#some give cyclone a raise
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And They Were Roommates! - Part 2
Part 1 Part 3 AO3
Eddie had called out of work the next day. Steve could hear him making his apologies to Mrs. Henderson who'd taken over the running of the shop when her husband passed.
Steve knew she'd probably tell him to stay home for the rest of the week, probably longer if she could get away with it, but Eddie loved every second he spent working there. Adored Dustin. Adored the other kids, Steve's kids, who used the back room for their dice game after closing on Thursday evenings.
Eddie would have to be beaten away from the premises with a bat. A bat with nails.
Steve might just have to give it a try if the idiot refused to rest properly.
He wasn't mothering him.
He was like… distant cousining him.
When he heard Eddie retreat back to his room after the call and when a light rumbling of snores came through the wall maybe a half an hour later, Steve finally made his exit from his room.
He hadn’t wanted Eddie to think he needed to put on a brave face or act like he was okay if Steve was out in the public spaces while he made the call.
Not because he cared.
Just so Eddie wouldn’t have to pretend.
And so he himself didn’t have to deal with the tension.
Yeah, right.
Also, it was the least he could do to complete Eddie's designated chores off the whiteboard that there had been war over.
Robin and Eddie’s friend Chrissy had been forced to come in and mediate the whiteboard before one of them set the other's hair on fire. Though by the end of the day the two best friends had been too busy making eyes at each other to be of any help.
Steve was taking a risk; messing with the delicate whiteboard balance that stayed the same, week in, week out, lest another war start. But if Eddie wasn’t up for going to work, he certainly wouldn’t be up for sweeping, mopping, countertops and garbage.
And like, Steve could hardly blame him, he’d been through a lot yesterday, he’d been betrayed by the guy he’d cared most about. He was attacked and had his heart broken all in one night.
So it was whatever.
Just a few chores.
Whatever.
At least he didn’t have to worry about keeping the noise down. Eddie could sleep through the apartment being ripped up by a cyclone then dropped into Oz.
He’d probably sleep through any and all musical numbers to follow, too.
Though he’d be bummed about missing them.
A few hours had passed by that point and Steve was just about to sit his lovely bottom on the couch to enjoy some good old fashioned thoughtless tv when there was a knock at the door.
He half expected Mrs. Henderson to be on the other side with half a hospital in tow behind her as well as, like, fifteen gallons of her famous chicken noodle soup. Which Steve would not turn down for love nor money and would steal a minimum 50% share.
As was his right.
But it wasn’t Claudia.
It was some guy.
Some guy who had a bandage over his nose, a harsh purple colour blooming underneath, sitting a little off as though broken. Some guy who had cuts and scratch marks all over his face and neck.
Some guy who seemed to be affronted at the very sight of him.
But as he stood there Steve could see the clogged up gears working in his brain before the guy opened his mouth and said "You're Steve, the roommate."
Steve pursed his lips.
Well, this interaction was off to a great start.
Though if this was who Steve thought he was, he couldn’t give less of a fuck.
"I'm Steve. Eddie's the roommate.” He said with a raised eyebrow. “What was with the look?"
The guy blinked at him. "What look?"
"The look you gave me, when I opened the door. Like I'd shit on your shoe." He answered with a cocked eyebrow and a cocked hip.
"Oh, uh… I just thought Eddie had shacked up with someone already.” The guy laughed. “Bit soon.” He shrugged and smiled at Steve as though looking for some kind of commiseration for a good joke, two men giving each other nudges about how silly their wives were or whatever other shit straight people did.
But Steve had no commiseration to give.
So this was definitely the shithead, then. Rick.
Steve leaned against the doorframe, practically acting like a barricade, blocking off access to the apartment with his arms crossed. "Don’t like the idea of him having someone at home?” He asked in a light tone. “Bit hypocritical if you ask me.”
Rick’s face immediately soured. "That wasn't his business to tell."
“I think you lose the privilege to that kind of privacy when you fuck around on people you’re supposed to love.” Steve shrugged. “Or just people in general.”
“Who the hell are you to judge me?” Rick puffed his chest out. “You don’t know me.”
“And thank god for that. I don’t need to know you. I know you’re a cheater, that’s enough.”
Rick scoffed. “Whatever, man. I’m not here to debate morality or some shit with you. I’m here to see Eddie.”
“No.” Steve answered as simply as he could.
The guy seemed to need things to be concise.
Rick looked bewildered. “Ex- excuse me?”
“You got cotton in your ears or something? I said no.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are? His keeper? You know he hates you right?”
Steve pulled his mouth down into a mocking pout. “Oh no.” He sighed, deadpan. “I’m so heartbroken.”
“Listen, I’m not getting into it with you right now, man. So call Eddie out or move.”
“Or what?” Steve leaned forward a little, feeling his blood light on fire.
There would be nothing more he’d love at this moment than Rick trying to square up to fight.
The guy was a little taller than him, but Steve was much broader, much stronger and though it wasn’t something he liked to do, he knew he could throw a decent punch if it was for someone else.
That much was obvious.
Thinking back on the things Eddie had said last night, the things Rick had tried, the way he’d cried into Steve’s shoulder, Steve would break Rick’s nose all over again if given half a chance.
“Steve.”
Eddie appeared next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him away from the door.
Rick looked between the two of them before his eyes landed back on Steve, snapping at him “You can fuck off now.”
Steve raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘oh, can I?’, but even so, he looked at Eddie, waiting for some sign of what he wanted, whether he wanted him to stay or go.
But Eddie gave no indication of what he wanted, wedging himself in between the two and pulling the door tighter to himself, his expression thunderous through the blooming bruises and angry cuts.
“The fuck are you doing here?”
Steve took that as his cue to go. Even through all the bluster and posturing and how much the two of them still didn’t like each other-
We barely tolerate each other, Steve insisted to himself, we don’t like each other. I don’t like him.
-he wasn’t going to force himself into this drama and if Eddie needed to tear this guy to shreds on his own, Steve would let him.
But he had barely taken a step back before Eddie’s hand shot out, grasping at what he could until he had a fistful of Steve’s shirt, white knuckling it and stopping him in his tracks.
The movement was hidden by the door, Rick wouldn’t have been able to see it and Eddie didn’t acknowledge that he’d done anything, still staring his ex down.
Steve stopped dead where he was and when Eddie seemed to realise that he wouldn’t be moving, his hand loosened, coming back up to rest against the door.
“I’m here to sort things out between us. Try to fix it.” Rick said, his voice going soft.
Eddie exhaled a derisive laugh through his nose. “Why don’t you go and ‘fix’ your wife?”
Steve crossed his arms, standing guard in the back but still mostly out of sight.
“C’mon babe…” Rick reached out, attempting to grasp at Eddie’s fingers but Eddie snatched his hand back. “I think you’re just… making a big deal out of this when you don’t need to.”
“A big deal?” Eddie snapped, leaning forward. “Not only have you been cheating on your wife but you’ve been cheating on me too.”
“You?” Rick sputtered, incredulous.
He exhaled with an eye roll and only then noticed that Steve was still standing there.
“Are you serious?” Rick almost shrieked. “What the hell are you still here for? Show’s over, normie!” He waved his hand in Steve’s direction as though dismissing him.
Steve raised his eyebrows and smiled back, not moving an inch.
Rick looked back to Eddie. “Are you not going to do anything about him? We’re in the middle-”
“Oh my god.” Steve injected as much sarcasm as he could. “Is this a private conversation? I had no idea.”
Rick’s face was turning red with frustration. “You got a real attitude problem, man.”
Steve turned his mouth down in a pout. “Oh no.”
“That’s it.” Rick slammed against the door all of a sudden, wrenching it from Eddie’s grip and almost blowing it open if it wasn’t for Steve’s hands stopping it in its tracks.
The sudden stop jostled Rick, sending him slightly off balance and Eddie took the opportunity to kick out hard, swinging his leg up until it landed in between Rick’s legs.
Eddie retracted his foot for just a second as Rick crumpled with a scream of pain before kicking out again, catching him in the hip and shoving him back into the hallway, sending him sprawling.
“Lose my fucking number, asshole.”
Eddie spat down at Rick before turning back inside and slamming the door behind him.
His eyes were still narrowed and furious as he glared at Steve who could do nothing but stand there.
The sound of Rick’s groans were still echoing beyond the door as the two of them looked at each other.
The silence stretched on as Eddie heaved heavy breaths in and out and Steve stared dumbfounded.
There was a glossy sheen to Eddie’s eyes by the time Steve opened his mouth, not sure of what he was going to say.
But it didn’t matter.
Eddie stormed past him without a backwards glance, his hair just disappearing behind the door before he slammed it closed and the wailing of a guitar and the crashing of drums started to scream out of the speakers in his room.
He didn’t see Eddie for the rest of the day. Didn’t knock on his door to try to pull him out and didn’t try to get him to talk.
Steve was only just waking up the day after when he heard Eddie’s bedroom door open and shuffling coming down the hall towards the phone.
He twiddled his thumbs, waiting in his room while he heard Eddie’s muttered conversation.
He didn’t want to interrupt, didn’t want to have to force his presence on Eddie before it was necessary but he really had to pee and he’d have to walk past the phone to get to the bathroom.
Thankfully the conversation didn’t last long but then Eddie shuffled away from his own room towards the bathroom and Steve had to take some very deep breaths.
He couldn’t really be mad at him for it, the guy hadn’t come out of his room at all yesterday after the confrontation, he deserved to pee but Steve felt like his kidneys were gonna start failing at any second.
When he heard Eddie shuffle back into his room Steve nearly cracked the wall with how hard he threw the door open, rushing down the hallway and into the bathroom before he exploded.
Eddie hadn’t made another appearance by the time Steve was grabbing his keys for work and as much as it irritated him, he was feeling a little wary about leaving him all alone for most of the day.
Turned out he didn’t really need to worry about it.
Just as he had turned back towards Eddie’s room, there was a knock on the front door.
He swung it open to find bouncing blonde curls and a bright perky smile.
“Hi Steve.”
“Oh, hey Chrissy.” He stepped aside, allowing her to sweep inside. Her sweater was very unusual. Dark blue and baggy and tucked into her light wash jeans. Steve could have sworn he’d seen it before. There was a large plastic bag in her hand that a glance inside told him was filled with every tooth rottingly sweet thing she could have scooped off the shelves at their local store.
She placed the bag on the kitchen counter with a light clink of glass against glass coming from inside.
Maybe it was also a day-drunk type of visit.
“How is he?” Chrissy asked, blinking up at him with her big earnest eyes.
“I’m… not sure?” Steve shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
She nodded. “Okay. That’s okay.”
“I think I’m probably going to call over to Robin’s after work.” He muttered, trying to keep his burning blush down. “Hang out for a little bit.”
He didn’t think he needed to say he was doing it to give Chrissy and Eddie their space, to do their ice-cream and chocolate and alcohol and talk about how terrible men were without him hovering. But thankfully she got it, smiling at him so bright it almost hurt to look at.
“Could you…?” She hesitated, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her fingers. “Could you ask Robin- never mind.”
Steve opened his mouth to assure her it was okay to continue but she barrelled on.
“The boys are coming over later too. Is that okay?”
“The boys?” Did she mean the kids?
“From the band.”
“Oh! Yeah I mean why wouldn’t that be okay? Eddie lives here too.”
“Yeah. I just wanted to check in case-”
“In case I complained about it later?” He tried to ask in his kindest tone. Maybe he’d been guilty of bitching about them in the past but he would never deny Eddie his support system, not at s time like this.
Even if he did… dislike him?
Did he still dislike him?
What was he talking about, of course he did.
“I’m sorry.” Chrissy looked incredibly guilty and Steve couldn’t stand it.
“No, you were right to ask. I haven’t- I’ve been a bit rude in the past.”
She looked like she wanted to apologise again so he shot her a warm smile and patted her on the shoulder. “I have to get to work, but take care of him, yeah?”
She gave him a curious look but nodded, sending him out the door with a wave of her hand, her sleeve following loosely where it was still pulled over her fingers.
Steve was halfway through his shift by the time Robin came in. She worked shorter hours ever since she’d taken that part time internship as a translator.
They’d just gotten past their mid-day coffee rush by the time they had a chance to talk.
“Are you doing anything after this?” He asked her, leaning back against the counter.
“Is this your way of asking me out?” Robin was rifling through the under counter refrigerator next to him, throwing out any old stock that had gone out of date.
“Yes.” Steve nodded. “I’ve been hopelessly in love with you for years and I thought now was the best time to confess.”
“You could have picked a more romantic location.” She sniffed at a container of strawberries, considering before shaking her head and dumping them.
“But my heart told me it had to be now, Birdie.”
Robin just rolled her eyes at him.
“So?” He nudged her with his foot, very nearly sending her off balance. “You, me, two of the best subs this city has and your couch. It’s my best offer.”
She shut the refrigerator door, pushing herself to stand, using the counter for balance. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Steve absentmindedly snapped his fingers at her, remembering.
“Oh! You have a date tonight, right?”
“I did have a date tonight but sh- he cancelled.”
“He cancelled, did he?” Steve smirked, trying not to enjoy the poorly masked revulsion on Robin’s face at having to pretend to be dating a man.
“Yes. He did. Rain check for another time.”
“Bummer.”
Robin hadn’t told him much about the girl she was seeing and Steve hadn’t pushed for any more information than she was willing to give. When she wanted him to know, he’d know.
“But-” he continued “-that leaves your schedule wide open for a date with me.” He spread his arms wide open and smiled at her.
“Well, aren't I just the luckiest girl in the world?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“The luckiest. Any reason for the rain check?”
Robin nodded. “Friend emergency.”
“Oh. That’s sweet.”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “He’s a very sweet…” her nose scrunched up, “boy.”
“Very sweet boy.” He repeated with a smile. “So can I steal your keys? Have everything all spread out for you when you get home?” He dragged his hand down his chest, wiggling his hips.
“God, Steven.” Robin shuddered. “You’re repulsive.”
“Wrong. I am a dish.”
“Ugh. Gag.”
Steve pouted at her. “I’ll get you a milkshake too, how about that?”
She crossed her arms and stuck her nose up. “Fine.”
She could only hold for so long before she started to break, cracking a smile.
“If you two don’t mind,” a voice next to them said and they both jumped, seeing Mark their manager standing there, “could you stop flirting and get back to work?”
Neither of them even bothered arguing that they were not flirting anymore. They both knew the rest of the staff had a betting pool going on when they would get together.
They would be waiting a very long time.
By the time Robin got home, Steve had himself swaddled in her blankets and had stolen her best hot water bottle.
Why did she live somewhere so cold?
His toasty warmth didn’t last very long, however.
She wrestled the hot water bottle from his grip by resorting to dirty tactics, pulling at his hair until he let it go.
“How many times have I told you the hair is off limits?” He hissed at her, trying to fix it. His hair was his fucking signature, how could she be so rude?
“That is exactly why I go for it every time. It’s your weak spot.” She grinned, smug in her win and attempting to pull the throw off of him as well.
“Go get one of my sweaters if you’re gonna be such a big bitch baby about it. I just got off work.” She pouted, batting her eyelashes at him. “I’m tired.”
“I brought you subs and milkshakes!”
Robin heaved out a heavy, put upon sigh. “Fine.” She heaved herself up from the couch, still clutching at the hot water bottle and disappeared inside her room.
Steve took the opportunity to swaddle himself again, just getting cosy when he heard Robin call out, “Evie, did you steal my sweater?”
“Which one?” He shouted back. He probably had five or more of hers at home and he wasn’t even sure if all of those had started out as hers or his.
“The blue one!”
“Which blue one?”
“The new blue one!”
“What does it look like?”
“What do you think it looks like, it’s fucking blue!”
Steve rolled his eyes and tried to remember any blue sweaters that existed within his own apartment.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t have it. I don’t even remember you getting a new blue sweater.”
“Well where the hell is it then?”
“How am I supposed to know? I didn’t even know it existed!”
“You’re supposed to know these things!”
“Maybe the sweater fairy stole it.” He snickered to himself until a dark red sweater that had definitely belonged to him first hit him in the face.
“You are the sweater fairy.” She pouted, sitting back down and stealing the throw from his lap.
“Don’t hate crime me. It’s rude.” He tugged the throw back over his legs, leaving her enough slack to cover herself as well.
Robin reached over to snatch her sub from the coffee table. “So.”
“So.”
“Something’s going on with Eddie.”
“What?” Steve ran through the entire day in his head. He didn’t think he’d mentioned Eddie once. “When did I say there was something going on with Eddie?”
“You didn’t.” Robin’s mouth went slack in the way it usually did whenever she was hiding something but she covered it up with a large bite, speaking through a full mouth. “But you’re here and not at home so…”
“That’s not that unusual.”
“No, but what is unusual is that you asked if you could steal my keys instead of just taking them.”
“Oh.” Yeah. That was not the norm. “Um, well it’s not really my place to say-”
“Who am I going to tell?”
“That’s besides the point.”
“Tell me.” She jabbed him with a sharp elbow.
“I don’t know if I can.” He said, running his hand through his hair.
“I mean, nothing too personal, if you don’t wanna.” She backtracked with a shrug.
“Doesn’t matter what I want. The thing is it’s not my business, it’s Eddie’s.” He shrugged. “But there was some… relationship drama the other night.”
“Ooh. Juicy drama?”
Steve winced. “Not exactly. More like… red flag drama.”
“Oh shit. Chr- I didn’t know that.”
Steve looked at her, bewildered. “I wouldn’t expect you to, how would you know?”
Robin just shrugged, shoving another large bite into her mouth.
“I don’t really… I’m not comfortable talking about the things Eddie and I talked about but I do need you to help me… figure myself out.”
“Okay, that I can do. I’m an expert at it. I helped you find your sexuality.”
“Find it? It wasn’t fucking lost Birdie.”
“Yeah, but I brought it out into the sunlight.”
“Jesus, you’re acting like you released it from captivity. I knew. I’ve always known. Just because you didn’t know that I know, doesn’t mean I didn’t know.”
She shoved his arm. “I unlocked it.”
He shoved her back. “You didn’t unlock shit.”
She shoved him again. “I unlocked it. You’re welcome.”
He gave her a final shove with a huff to go right along with it. “Whatever.”
“Okay, no more side tracking. Tell me your scrambly brain thoughts.”
“Alright. Um. Okay. So.” Shit. How much could he tell her without either breaking Eddie’s trust or revealing too much. “So there was drama the other night, between Eddie and the boyfriend, you know that much. I won’t say what happened but he didn’t get home until like four in the morning and he called out of work yesterday and today-”
“He called out?!” Robin shrieked, open mouthed. She’d lived with Eddie long enough and been through enough of Steve’s bitching to know just how much Eddie loved that job.
Steve nodded. “Yeah. It was… it wasn’t good, Birdie, what happened. It was actually really fucking fucked up.”
She nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“So then yesterday he’s trying to sleep it off pretty much and there’s a knock at the door.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah and I go get it because I had assumed it would be Mrs. Henderson with some chicken noodle soup and you know I’d kill my own mother for some of that soup-”
“-I’d kill your mother for some too, yes.”
“-yeah. But it wasn’t Mrs. Henderson, it was Rick, the boyfriend. Or ex-boyfriend, I don’t know and he was trying to like, bully his way into the apartment to see Eddie and I don’t know what happened with me but-”
“-you went full guard dog protector mode didn’t you?”
“I…” Steve sighed, looking down at his hands. “Yeah, I did. Why did I do that? It’s none of my business. I don’t even like the guy. Why would I care?”
“Because you always care, Evie. You saw someone who needed help and you helped, it’s what you do.”
Steve scoffed. “Hardly. It’s not like I’m some fucking selfless hero for doing it.”
“Nah, you kinda are.”
“It was just some guy!”
“And you’re just some guy too!”
Steve glared at her, offended. “You take that back.”
Robin looked at him for a moment. “Okay, fair, retracted.”
He gave her a small grin and dragged the sleeves of the sweater over his fingers.
“Hey! Stop, you’ll stretch it!”
“What does it matter if I stretch it, it’s mine.”
“It is not.”
“It is too!”
“Is not!”
“Is too!” He jabbed her in the side, knowing full well that if they continued the way they were this could go on all night. It had gone on all night more than once.
Robin squawked and immediately lunged, her hands grabbing at the top of his head.
“No, no! I told you not the hair!”
“And I told you it’s your weakness.” She hissed, her eyes flashing as he scrambled at her wrists before she could get her fingers buried deep enough.
“Boobies!” He shouted, as loud as possible. The effect was immediate, Robin tried to cringe away from him with a look of disgust. “Boobies, boobies, boobies!”
“Oh my god are you five fucking years old? Can you not say tits or breasts or fucking mammary glands or something like a damn adult?” She wrenched her wrists away from him. “I’m so embarrassed for you.”
“I’m embarrassed of your face.”
“I’m embarrassed of your weird man hair.” She scowled, patting at his chest.
“You shouldn’t be. Everyone loves the chest hair. Even the lesbians. It’s like a respect thing.”
Robin rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Steve pouted to himself.
He just wanted to help. He wanted to make sure Eddie was okay, that he would continue to be okay and there was this horrible little part in the back of his head that also wanted to make sure that no one would put their hands on Eddie ever like that again.
It was weird and possessive in a way he really shouldn’t have been feeling about his irritating as shit roommate who didn’t even have the courtesy to play guitar with headphones on half the time.
No matter how good his playing was.
“I can smell your hair burning.”
“What do I do now, Birdie?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like… I want to help, I guess. But I don’t know how. We don’t even like each other, why would he accept my help?”
“Well… how did he react when you did what you did?”
“He… I guess he… I was going to leave when Rick came to the door and he stopped me. He didn’t say anything to me, he didn’t even look at me but he grabbed onto me and… I think he was scared, Rob. I’ve never seen him scared.”
“Well Steve, I think you’re gonna do what you always do. Help. Whether you know you’re doing it or not, whether you even really mean to, you always help.”
"You're making me out to be some sort of saint."
“I’m really not.” She shook her head. “You’re just… you.”
“Wow, incredible observation there, Birdie.”
“Oh, fuck off and finish this for me.” She shoved the rest of her sub into his hands.
Part 1 Part 3 AO3
@augustjustice @geekymagicalpotato @wormdebut @eddielives1986 @releasethexbarakat @a-little-unsteddie @steddietogo @steddiehyperfixation
Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.
Divider by firefly-graphics
#steddie#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steve x eddie#eddie x steve#penny00dreadful#steddie fanfic#steddie fic#fanfic#pennys anniversary event#robin buckley#enemies to lovers#roommates au#roommates
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The Admirals Strike Back - Cyclone
Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson / Wife!Reader (Mitchell!Reader)
Word Count: 2.1 k
This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only
Warnings: Consensual and Very Much Legal Age-Gap Relationship (About 15 years); Non-Traditional Father-Daughter Relationship (Between Maverick and Reader); Humor; Cyclone's a Grump; Maverick Becomes a Grump; Use of "You," No Y/N, No Physical Description; Named Simpson!OC Kids
Summary: Maverick knew that his somewhat estranged daughter was married. He just didn't know who she married.
Master List
There was one major rule in the Simpson household. Work ended at the door. The Navy was not allowed to step inside and into your relationship. If Beau needed to deal with the Navy on his personal time, he needed to go into his office.
But Beau was going to have to break that rule tonight.
Beau could hear the sounds of your daughters from down the hall as he walked into your house and felt some of the weight already melting off of his shoulders from his long day.
“Daddy!” Maggie, your eldest daughter, squealed, slipping down from her seat.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Beau bent down and scooped her up into his arms with a bright smile on his face. Setting her on his hip, Beau pressed a kiss to her cheek and fixed the bow in her hair.
“How was your day at school?” Beau asked, walking slowly into the kitchen.
“I got a sticker for being a good line leader!” Maggie announced, causing Beau to smile proudly at her.
“Very good, sweetie. We’re so proud of you.”
“Mommy said that I could have ice cream,” Maggie stated, causing you to turn around from the sink.
“After you finish eating your vegetables, Mags.”
“That sounds fair to me,” Beau replied, setting Maggie back down in her seat. “And I’ll throw in some sprinkles if you finish that broccoli.”
“Promise?” Maggie asked, holding up her pinky finger.
“Promise,” Beau agreed, wrapping his far larger pinky around her own.
Moving onto your younger daughter, Beau clucked his tongue with fake disapproval, causing Parker to grin and giggle up at her dad.
“Ms. Parker, you have far too much tomato sauce on your face,” Beau stated, reaching over to grab a paper towel. Gently holding your daughter’s chin, Beau wiped the sauce off of your daughter’s face before planting a kiss on her chubby cheek. “Were you a good girl for Mommy?”
“Yup!” Parker returned quickly, wearing a mischievous grin that Beau knew was going to give him heart attacks in the future.
“Mostly,” you teased your youngest as you finished up with the dishes.
“Sorry I’m late,” Beau apologized to you, walking over to give you a quick peck in greeting.
“Well, after last night, I assumed that something big was going on,” you assured your husband, setting a plate into the dishwasher.
Beau had gotten a call right around bedtime last night and he didn’t come to bed until the early morning. And you knew what that meant. Something big was going down. And as the Air Boss, your husband was going to be heavily involved. Beau glanced over at your daughters, who were still eating their dinner, before turning back to you.
“You want to break the rule, don’t you?” you guessed, turning to face your husband.
“Am I allowed to break the rule?” Beau asked, causing you to smirk a bit.
“Permission granted, Admiral. Proceed,” you replied, drying off your hands.
“Well, we needed to call in a specialist for this particular event,” Beau started off, folding his arms across his chest. “And we called in someone a little . . . familiar to you.”
You frowned for a bit, your eyes darting back and forth as you ran through the short list of Navy personnel that you were ‘familiar’ with when it suddenly clicked. Setting down the dish towel, you turned to your husband with an incredulous look.
“Maverick?”
“Yes,” Beau confirmed, causing you to raise an eyebrow.
“I thought that he was taken off active-duty years ago,” you replied, causing Beau to nod.
“He was, but Iceman disagreed, and called him in.”
“Oh,” you mumbled, glancing over at the girls.
And how did you know Pete “Maverick” Mitchell? Well, you had technically known him your entire life.
Your mother and Pete Mitchell had a brief tryst that resulted in your existence. But Maverick was never very much around in your life, though you only found out recently, due to your mother’s actions. But after she passed away, you started digging to find out more about your father and reached out to Maverick.
Your relationship with your dad was very slow going. He didn’t even know that you were married to Beau. He knew that you were married with two little girls, but he didn’t know the name of your husband. He never asked. And you didn’t tell him.
“Did you want your whiskey then?” you joked quietly, spinning your wedding band around your finger.
“Not tonight,” Beau replied, straightening up. “We have an early morning tomorrow.” He took a step forward and gently took your hand into his own, rubbing your skin with his thumb. “And you’re alright? With him being in town?”
“Of course, I’m fine with that,” you returned, squeezing your husband’s hand. “I was just surprised.” Reaching up to grab your husband’s shoulders, you massaged his tense muscles. “And between the two of us, I think that you’re the one who’s less alright with him being in town.”
“I just need him to follow my orders,” Beau sighed, shaking his head.
“Oh,” you cooed, cupping your husband’s cheeks with your hands, “you’re definitely going to need some more whiskey. I’ll pick up some more tomorrow for you.”
Pressing a teasing kiss to his lips, you giggled when he pulled you in for more. And you were happy to return it, up until your daughter started screaming bloody murder.
“EW! Daddy! You have to put a dollar in the kissing jar!” Maggie yelled, pointing at the jar in the corner of the kitchen.
Similar to a swear jar, the kissing jar in your household was for when your daughters, mostly Maggie, thought that you and Beau were getting just a little too lovey dovey in front of them. The kissing jar money mostly went to ice cream or other desserts that you bought the girls, which only motivated them to call you and Beau out on it more.
“I will,” Beau promised, smiling over at Maggie. “Right after I give Mommy one last kiss.”
“That’s two dollars!” Maggie demanded as Beau pressed another kiss to your lips.
~~~~~
It was a few days after the mission and you waited with your two girls and the other families for the newly formed Dagger Squad to return to Miramar. Beau had called you yesterday from Hawaii, where the planes stopped to refuel and rest, before heading on to Miramar today. And right on time—which you expected nothing less from your husband—you spotted the planes in the distance.
Once they all landed and taxied off the runway and you were given the all clear from the grounds crew, you pointed your daughters in the direction of the plane that you knew Beau was on. Maggie took off running, already yelling for him, while Parker was happy to catch a ride from you.
“Come on, let’s go see Daddy,” you cooed to your youngest daughter before walking off.
“Who’s that woman?” Hangman wondered aloud, watching you walk across the tarmac.
“Out of your league,” Phoenix replied, not even having to glance up.
“Who do you think she’s here for?”
“Probably her spouse, judging by the toddler in her arms,” Bob added, sharing a look with his pilot.
“She’s probably . . .” Rooster trailed off, blinking with surprise at your appearance. Because you looked oddly familiar to the woman that Maverick showed him a picture of in the infirmary. Maverick mentioned that the woman was his daughter and that they were slowly reconnecting, but that they weren’t very close yet. “Holy shit. Who is she here for?”
“Did Hangman’s bullshit transfer that quickly to you? You were in his backseat for a couple of hours,” Phoenix scoffed, causing Rooster to shake his head.
“No, that’s Maverick’s daughter.”
“Maverick has a daughter?” Hangman asked, turning around.
“Yeah, one that he’s not really close with. So, who is she . . . you gotta be fucking kidding me.”
Maverick and Cyclone stepped off the plane side by side, chatting about what was to come in the next few days since Iceman’s replacement was not yet decided. But before Cyclone could get too wrapped up in the conversation, Warlock tapped Cyclone on the arm and gestured towards the hangar.
Cyclone turned and instantly smiled when he spotted Maggie running towards him, pumping her little arms to run as fast as she could. You trailed behind her with Parker on your hip, but you waved to him as soon as you locked eyes. Maverick followed Cyclone’s gaze, expecting the daughters that Cyclone mentioned very briefly in passing to be teenagers.
But when little six-year-old Maggie leapt into her dad’s waiting arms, Maverick was quietly surprised.
“You’re back!”
“I am back, yes,” Cyclone agreed, hugging his daughter to his chest. “Did you miss me?”
“Yeah, a lot! And Mommy was sad without you!”
“Well, she does like me just a little bit,” Cyclone joked, setting his daughter on his hip. “Were you a good girl for her?”
“Like I promised,” Maggie agreed, holding up her pinky finger. “Parker threw up though.”
“When?” Cyclone asked, instantly concerned.
“Mommy said that she ate too fast and then ran around too much,” Maggie replied, shrugging her shoulders. “It was a few days ago.”
“Daddy!” Parker yelled, causing Beau to look away from Maggie.
You set down a wiggling Parker onto the ground, letting her run the last of the way to her dad. And then you turned to face your own, who was staring at you in shock. You shot him a sheepish smile.
“Surprise,” you breathed out, waving to Maverick, who waved dumbly back.
Cyclone, meanwhile, picked up Parker and held both of his girls. Pressing a kiss to both of their cheeks, Cyclone walked over to you. Turning away from Maverick, you smiled up at your husband and gently cupped his cheeks to pull him in for a soft kiss.
“You’re finally home,” you sighed in relief, rubbing his cheeks with your thumb.
“We’re all home. In one piece,” Cyclone reported, causing you to let out a breath.
Pulling your husband in for another kiss, you wrapped your arms around your little family for a moment. In the background, Hondo slowly waved his hand in front of Maverick’s eyes, shocked himself at the turn of events, but far more amused than Maverick was about it. Pulling away from your husband, you turned to greet your dad.
“Hey, Mav,” you called softly, walking over to him. You gave him a quick hug and squeeze in greeting, all while waiting for his reaction to actually drop. “How are you?”
“Shocked,” Maverick replied, glancing between you and Cyclone. “You . . . he’s your husband?”
“For the past eight years,” Cyclone stated, adjusting his hold on your daughters.
“But . . .” Maverick blinked rapidly, turning back to you. “I mean, isn’t he a bit . . .”
“He is still your superior officer,” Cyclone reminded Maverick, causing you to shoot him the same look that you always did when he got a bit snappy during Navy social events.
“Yes, we’re aware that there’s an age gap between us,” you assured your dad, turning back to Maverick.
“How did the two you of you even meet?”
“Well, I had this ad up on a sugar baby website and—”
“—You know that I don’t like that joke,” Cyclone interjected, causing you to shoot him a playful smile while Maverick’s heart attack receded.
“We met at a wedding actually. Mutual friends. We sat next to each other at the same table and spent most of the night talking. I managed to convince him to dance and then we got together about two weeks after that.”
“Ten days,” Cyclone replied, pressing a kiss to Maggie’s head.
“And these are your daughters?” Maverick asked, looking over at your girls.
“Yes, this is Maggie. She’s six. And that’s Parker. She’s three,” you introduced, pointing out your daughters to Maverick.
“They’re beautiful,” Maverick commented, causing Cyclone to nod towards you.
“They get it from her.”
Maverick nodded in return and you and Cyclone excused yourselves, walking off to greet Warlock’s family. He blinked dumbly, still in disbelief that the fact that his daughter was married to someone like Cyclone of all people. Cyclone? Really? The man was an outstanding aviator, but he was probably at least fifteen years older than you and a stick in the mud.
Hondo’s barely contained laughter caused Maverick to turn towards the warrant officer.
“What?”
“Well, isn’t it ironic that for all the crap that they give you for running around with Penny, an admiral’s daughter, that your own daughter married an admiral? And Cyclone at that.”
“Shut up, Hondo,” Maverick sighed, causing Hondo to burst out laughing and nudge him in the arm.
#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick#top gun: maverick#top gun#tgm#tgm fanfiction#pete mitchell#pete maverick mitchell#beau cyclone simpson#beau simpson#cyclone#beau cyclone simpson x reader#beau cyclone simpson x you#cyclone top gun#cyclone x reader#cyclone x you#beau simpson x reader#beau simpson x you
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Mariner's Complex -- Jake Kiszka x reader
Summary: "Look for the lighthouse when you are lost, it will always bring you home. May the light in your soul guide you, may the love in your heart keep you strong." -- Jake is nervous before going on stage. You know just the right way to calm his nerves.
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader
Word Count: 2532
Warnings: 18+! minors be gone, mention of alcohol, mention of anxiety, public sex, unprotected penetrative sex, soft Jake (please let me know if I missed any!)
Genre: Smut, hurt/comfort (kind of)
Author's note: This piece is inspired by the gif above. I am smitten upon seeing it. This is my first time writing smut. It's about vulnerability, about receiving and giving love, lots of love. It is my fictional way of hoping that Jake is reminded of being one of the best guitarists out there and that he is loved by us. Deepest thanks to the wonderful @sacredjake for beta reading and for inspiring and encouraging me to pick up writing and post this. Please do yourself a favor and read her works; they're awesome beyond words. Enjoy!!
🎧: songs that pair nice with this piece: Lost at Sea by Lana Del Rey and Rob Grant; Mariners apartment complex by Lana Del Rey (can you tell I'm bad at titles now?)
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There’s just something about the air in the stadium before the concert; it feels like with every inhale, it immediately turns into adrenaline. With its graininess accentuated, one can almost sense the atoms buzzing in the air, like a shoal of sardines forming a bait ball, enclosing him, a cyclone where he is the eye. Is this what Josh means when he writes “carbon dancing through time” ?
His mind is racing a million miles a second; it’s like hoping onto a car with broken brakes, he’s bound to hit something in the hazardous terrain——
Knock knock. “Jake?”
As if someone pulled the switch, he is snapped back to reality. He immediately recognizes the voice of his lover. The sweetest sound in the world. His shoulder visibly relaxes, the corner of his mouth turning up, and his heart feels tender. He has always appreciated this—forever so considerate and thoughtful, always respecting his privacy even though they have already been together for so long.
“Come in!”
As expected, his lover’s face came into view, the familiar smile.
“I got you the salad you wanted!” You said, raising the white plastic bags in your hands.
You can tell he is anxious the moment you push open the door. Years of a committed relationship must have formed some kind of telepath between you two. You can almost sense it in the air. Is it a thing though? Like the service dogs that can smell it when their owner’s heart is beating too fast. Well, you know someone’s heart is certainly racing now.
You can’t quite figure out where his anxiety is coming from. They boys are at the middle leg of this tour. Is it from the traveling? Or maybe it has to do with his string snapping during soundcheck earlier? Or it could just be his brain playing tricks on him. And you respect that, even amazed or amused because you know it’s from the very same place where all the amazing melodies and witty remarks are born.
You spotted the glass on the vanity. Amber liquid barely covering its bottom, corresponding to the proportionate empty space in the newly-opened bottle of whiskey right next to it. You know Jake is never one to get plastered before going on stage. The alcohol is just a pacifier for his nerves. You follow his gaze to the white roses sitting in the vase. He’s remained quiet all this time, not even trying to hide his feelings, only giving you a smile through his reflection in the mirror. The comfortable silence hangs mellowly like willow branches, a mute radiation of his trust and vulnerability.
You set the bag aside and squat down in front of him, thumb brushing the back of his hand. You know better than to ask questions like “are you okay”. You know that right now your physical presence is already a comfort for him. You’d rather let him take the lead for the rest.
Jake tilts up your chin—a silent cue for kisses. You happily oblige, feeling his lips forming a smile upon contact with yours. He releases a contented sigh, pulling back after a moment. “I’ve missed you.”
“Yeah? You’ve got me now.” Now sitting across his lap, your hand rests gently on his cheek. Jake immediately leans into your touch like a cat, turning his head and pressing kisses into your palm.
“They already double-checked it. I’ll ask them to pay extra attention before the show starts, just to make sure.” You said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, revealing the little hoop dangling.
Jake hums, knowing you are referring to the snapped string earlier. Stupid mistake. His throat feels dry, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I——”
“Shh,” you give him a peck on the lips, “none of that. You don’t have to explain anything. Those feelings are valid. And they are temporary.”
Then a brilliant idea strikes you.
“We’ll take a walk, alright?”
“Here?” He cocks his head in slight confusion.
He immediately recognizes that you are giving him a taste of his own medicine. Well, in a good way. He knows you are talking about one of those “mental health walks” that he proposes when you are engulfed by the noises inside your head. But the backstage is not street gardens or some hiking trials in a park, how will that work?
“Yeah, you have time. Right?”
There’s indeed at least a good half an hour before the last sound check. He can’t argue with you. By the way, when were he ever able to say no to your invitations? This little genius mind of his lovers, constantly conjuring up the most amusing and endearing words and ideas like the hat of a magician. With a resigned smile, he caves in, placing his hands in yours.
“Come on, up you get, you lazy butt.” You step back and pull on his arm.
“Hey, you love this butt!” He protests in feigned grievance.
“Yup, can’t deny it’s a nice one.” You jokingly smack his ass as you follow him out of the dressing room, feeling happier hearing his banter, seeing him slowly getting back to himself. He’ll get there, you will make sure of it.
The corridors are generally quiet around this time, allowing the artists to rest before the real frenzy starts. Occasionally, stage crews pass by, rolling equipments boxes down the hall. You two swiftly move out of their way, hand in hand, strolling as if window shopping in the mall. You are entertaining Jake with a funny little incident you saw on your way to buy him food.
“You should’ve seen it, really,” you snort out a laugh recalling the scene, “that poor lady is struggling so hard and the shopping cart is just running away from her, loaded with two cases of Guinness!”
Jake is laughing with you, slightly shaking his head in disbelief. You turn to admire his profile, the apple of his cheek rising, the wrinkle to his nose deepening, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. There’s nothing you love more than seeing Jake smile and laugh, it never fails to create that fizzy feeling in your heart, like a bubble approaching the surface of a cream soda.
Having jumped out of your storytelling, your attention diverts back to the feeling of Jake’s arm snaking around your waist. Now his hands are sliding up your sides, from the small of your back to the sweet spot on your flank.
He turns to look at you. Upon meeting his gaze, you immediately pick up the implicit plea. His caramel eyes full of admiration, the edge of his iris grows fuzzy. His eyelashes flutter as his gaze falls to your lips.
You cover the distance between you with a kiss. This one is different from the one in the dressing room. The tip of his tongue tickles your bottom lip with small licks before him pulls back a bit and mutters under his breath, “Want you, want to be close to you.”
Once again, you are more than willing to indulge.
It’s just so convenient that you happened to be near the corner where a pilaster protrudes enough to hide you from the passersby. As your back hits the wall, your fingers are already tangled in Jake’s hair, holding him close. You are circled by him, his freshly applied cologne lingers, now well adapted to his skin, bergamot wrapping the hidden notes of pepper and cedar. Jake kisses along your jawline and traces downwards, creating a dotted line of kisses across your breasts and hovering over your navel. His hands tugging on the waist of your pants. As he unzips it smoothly, he dives back in with more kisses, nibbling on the material of your underwear.
“No,” you mumble, tugging on his elbow motioning him to stand up, “I want you in me.”
You loved it when he goes down on you, but not now. Now you need it to be about him, you know he needs it too.
There is a halt in his movement, suddenly his eyes a shade darker.
“Yes, let it out, Jake.” You hold your forehead against his, making sure he hears every word certain and clear. Whatever it is, a much-needed release, a claim of territory, an outlet of his bundled nerves. “Use me. Fuck me.”
“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Jake sucks in a breath.
You smirk, tilting your head back against the wall and surrendering more of your body to his arms. Jake’s hands on your thighs cover the coolness of your skin as your pants pool around your ankles. His knuckles tracing your heat through the fabric, the ghostly touch making you squirm.
“Please, Jake.” You loop your arms around his neck, raising up a leg pressing it into the side of his waist.
“So wet for me already, angel.” With frantic eagerness, he takes out his length and pulls your underwear aside. Your slickness draws his hard cock inside as he bottoms out in one firm and steady thrust. Jake was looking down as he enters you, his eyebrows creased in concentration, eyelashes throwing shadows under his eyes. He never fails to marvel at the way your bodies connect, it catches him in awe every time no matter how many times you have fucked, just as you are exploring each other’s bodies for the first time. When his gaze meets yours again, it’s like moonlight spilling behind clouds. You are the only object of his vision.
“Yes!” You mouth silently as he starts moving, him picking up the pace almost instantly as if placed in a running wheel. Jake’s head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, hot breath radiating and him lapping up at whatever area of skin he comes in contact with. His arm goes under your knee and finds leverage on the wall, the other hand holding onto your pelvis, pinning you in place. The rough texture of the brick wall rubs against your back along each shudder, magnifying the titillation deep inside you.
You feel like with each thrust his insecurity and anxiety ebbs away like the snaky morning fog, replaced by his confidence and charming self: the one you know will work his magic on stage tonight just like ever, the one that will make the entire stadium shake and roar just by his fingers moving across six strings, the one that proves both to the world and to himself again and again that “it could be done”.
You can feel him swell and twitch against your walls, you squeeze you thighs and clench, knowing he’s getting close. The spasms of his cock tickling that particular spot to the point of no return, the ecstasy washing over you like a cascade. The whines and screams rolling and tumbling in your chest like a pot of boiling water, threatening to jump out of your mouth. You roll your eyes back and swallow them down, releasing only one suppressed moan of “let go, baby” against Jake’s ear, and that is enough to send him over the edge.
With one jerk of his body, he cums hard. You can feel the additional thickness of his release almost dripping down your crotch. Jake’s whole weight falls towards you with the hunch of his shoulders. His chest presses firmly against your body, its rise and fall teasing your still hard nipples.
You hold his head against your chest as he comes down from the high, fingers brushing away the naughty strands of hair that have flown into the corner of his mouth and stuck to his cheek.
“As much as I would like to stay here forever, you really have to get going. They must be looking for their rockstar everywhere.” You chuckle while shimmying out of your rumpled underwear, using it to clean up.
“Damn.” Jake leans back against the wall as he watches you, still on cloud nine and short of words. For a moment, all he can do is look at you.
“Stop staring.” You nudge him, unable to stop blushing facing his caramel eyes filled with unadulterated adoration. You bet if you could reach into them, you would find a handful of stars. Plus, Jake looks exceptionally beautiful post-fuck, the upturn at the corners of his mouth accentuated the curve of his cupid’s bow. The smug smirk is counterbalanced by the rosy blush on his cheekbones, a tell-tale sign of his satiated desire. Good. That’s what you’d expected and what you’d like to see.
Jake cups your face in both of his hands as he leans in for a kiss. This time, almost childish, his pouted lips pepper all over, the bilabial “mwah” is especially pronounced, causing you to giggle again.
“Quite the walk, huh?” You insinuate.
“Well, now I prefer to call it the ‘mental health fuck’,” Jake slowly straightens his back, resembling a cat stretching after a content nap. “Catch you on the flip side, my love.”
He was already a couple of strides away when he rushes back to kiss you again, catching you in surprise. Aggressive and fervent in his actions, but oh so gentle when his mouth meets yours. This is the type of kiss where he takes the lead, and you are completely at his mercy. The tip of his nose brushes against yours, and his teeth softly bite your lower lip. It’s a kiss that steals your breath and your heartbeat away for tits entirety
.
“You know you are my lighthouse, yeah?” He stares right into your eyes, his voice low and husky. “ You always guide me back when I’m lost at sea. My Leucothea, my Lady of Luck.”
You feel a lump in your throat, and every word goes straight to your heart. The feelings there are so overwhelming that they rise and swell like tidal waves. It;s so much love that it makes you want to cry.
“Gosh, Jake, such the poet.” That all you manage to say.
“Because you’re my muse, my angel,” Jake smiles again as he steps back one last time. “And now it’s time for me to set sail again, yeah?”
“Aye aye,” you blow him a kiss, “Fair Winds, Captain.”
You watch as he leaves. The Starcatcher symbol on his back standing tall and proud. The crystal embellishments on his jacket scintillate, jet crystals and glass beads shimmers, reflecting the lights like a thousand stars falling onto his shoulders. He is the warrior that breaks their fall, wearing them proud as a crystal armour. You watch as he marches forward, carrying on his shoulders the weight of dreams. Your dearest rocker, the bravest captain.
For Jake, the atoms are still buzzing, but now he can feel them moving rhythmically, like the joyful wings of a hummingbird or the secret dance of bees. They delivering a yet undecipherable but nonetheless auspicious message. Soon he will be going on stage, carrying a heart full of love from his lover, so he can give all his love to his fans out there. And he knows if he looks, he will find you among the crowd, a cluster of flame, a powerhouse of love.
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Thank you so much for reading!! :) any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated.
The description of Jake's jacket is heavily relied on this post
kudos to who spotted the TLSP reference hehe
If you are in need of some fluff, feel free to check out my another Jake pieces: Permission to Fall || Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones
#jake kiskza x reader#greta van fleet fan fiction#jake kiszka smut#jake kiszka fanfic#greta van fleet smut#jake kiszka
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Hangman meets this Nick-Goose guy at the bar (not a joke)
Jake rested his chin on his cue stick as he stared curiously at the pair at the bar.
The famous Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson and some skinny blonde guy were hanging around. He never knew that the Admiral could smile. Sure, the guy was fair and respected all around the base, but he was stoic. He shrugged and went back to his game.
By the time he sunk the 8-ball in, he looked up and the Admiral was gone. He handed the cue stick to the next guy about to play and went up to the bar, knocking on the counter.
“Ma’am, a cold beer, please,” He said flashing Penny a smile, she rolled his eyes and handed him his drink.
“Stop calling me, ma’am, I’m not your commanding officer, Lieutenant,” Penny grouched before smiling.
“Aye aye, Captain,” Jake said flashing a wink and Penny rolled her eyes in response.
“Damn, Pen, not checking IDs, you’re getting sloppy or soft,” The mystery man said and Jake turned to get a better look at him.
He blinked before realizing that Roo-Roo Bradshaw was somewhere in the Pacific Ocean and a good 30 years younger than the man.
“Shut up, Nick, he’s a grown aviator,” Penny sniped back, hitting the man with a towel as he batted it away.
“Damn straight,” Jake said, taking a sip of his beer.
“Ahhh, so you are getting soft, you’ve always been soft around aviators,” Nick said, giving Jake a wink.
Penny blushed and gave Nick another hit with a towel before another customer called her away.
“Piss her off enough and you’ll get thrown overboard, even if I gotta do it alone,” Hangman said, flashing Nick a sharp grin.
Nick gave a low whistle, “Damn, son, no wonder she’s soft on ya, you probably remind her of me and the boys back in the day.”
Jake frowned at that.
“Nevermind that, I’m Nick or Goose, choose what you want,” Nick, Goose, said, reaching out his hand to shake.
“Jake,” He replied, shaking his hand, looking the guy up and down, seeing the grey on his temples. “You used to be an aviator?”
“Old men, can’t be on active duty?”
“The Navy would be too busy worrying about paying for your back pain.”
Goose honked out a laugh that made his callsign make sense.
“I was a backseater, RIO, then after I left I became a civilian flight instructor,” Goose said. “Single-seater?”
“Yep,” Jake said, finally deciding to sit down beside the older man. “Lucky guess?”
It was Jake’s turn to be scrutinized as he was looked up and down, “Nah, I just know the type, do you prefer Jake or Hangman?”
Jake’s lip twitched down before he settled on a blank mask. He used to have no shame regarding his callsign, so who gives a shit if he misspelled a couple words here and there. Until.
“All you do is leave good men hanging! Goddamn executioner of your own squad!”
“Hangman! Smoke in the ai-”
“Lieutenant Jacob “Hangman” Seresin, you did everything you could, dismissed.”
He took a deep breath that was more shaky than he’ll ever admit, “Jake’s good,” he said, flashing a smirk as he took another sip of his drink.
The older man’s eyes softened and he gave Jake a small smile.
“How about you?” Jake asked, realizing it was polite to reciprocate the question.
“Eh, either is fine, they’re both the same to me,” Nick said, shrugging.
“Doesn’t Goose remind you of the thrill of being in a jet?” Jake asked, swirling his beer bottle around.
“Nah, reminds me more of hanging around the boys,” Nick replied. “Still see them, but it ain’t the same as it used to be. Plus, I think I’ve had enough excitement for this life,” Nick said chuckling, leaning back and both men wincing as they heard his spine crack.
“You’re showing your age, old man,” Jake muttered, looking at him worriedly, wondering if he was about to keel over. “You hangin’ in there, gramps?”
Nick chuckled, “Not that old, brat, I have a son your age. He’s 27.”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Hmmm, 21?”
Jake squawked in offense, “You’re actin’ like this my second time drinkin’ or somethin’!”
Nick raised a brow at him, “Is it not?”
Jake glared at him and all Goose saw was the same pout on his son’s face when he withheld the cookies from him.
“ ‘M 23,” Jake muttered.
“See? Not that far off, no need to get your feathers all ruffled, birdy,” Nick said, honking out a laugh.
Jake grumbled, but Goose could see the smile behind the sip of the beer bottle.
—
“Mav, did the Navy bio-engineer you and Ice’s DNA to create a son we don’t know about?”
Mav paused, looking at his phone to check if this was Goose he was talking to. “Not that I know off,” he said slowly. “Why?”
“Kid, tall, blond hair, green eyes, naval aviator, technical flying style with some of your style, has your social skills too,” Goose added the last part thoughtfully.
“Is that a compliment to the kid or an insult?”
“....Anyways, you made sure you don’t have some kid we don’t know about, right? Because if you gave me a nephew and didn’t make me his godfather I will ground you, no jets for a month.”
“Let me check with Ice.”
—
“Hello my sweet-precious-baby-mini-me,” Goose crowed to the phone as his son groaned on the other line.
“Dad, I am taller and bigger than you.”
“You still get your good looks from me, honey, how’s the deployment going?”
“The other pilots are shitheads, the amount of ego here is astounding.”
“Naval aviators,” Goose said, shrugging before realizing his son can’t see that. “There’s never a shortage of ego, say these pilots are younger than you?”
“Some of them are, some of them are older,” Bradley said slowly, wondering where this conversation was going.
“Good, you’ll have enough practice then.”
“Practice!? Practice for what!? Dad?”
“All good things come to those who wait, Brad-Brad.”
—
Hey gramps, I’m being’ deployed to Top Gun, Hard Deck?
Sure, Jakey
—
Gramps flew with pops? Goose and Maverick ejected. Goose got an honorable discharge. Holy shit.
Bradshaw was Nick’s son?
Is that why he was angry?
—
Hangman was face to face with Bradshaw, anger coursing through his veins. Doesn’t he understand? If they couldn’t fly like Maverick, they would all end up dead. Dead.
Is he angry because of hop 31? Pissed on behalf of his Dad? But, Nick wasn’t angry at Pete, right?
You can find out.
“Come on, take a walk with me, son.”
No. Nick doesn’t deserve that.
“You have a family Bradshaw,” Jake said slowly, watching as Bradshaw’s hackles raised up even higher.
“Yeah, kid is simultaneously too hesitant and reckless at the same time, and I thought my wingman is the reason I’m gray…”
“You’re almost 60 gramps, that’s the reason why you’re gray.”
“Don’t let them lose you because you can’t think straight. Feelings ain’t matter here, not if you want to live,” Jake gritted out, shoulder checking the other man as he left the room.
—
They’re alive.
He saved them.
Thank fucking god because in all the hours he spent on stand-by in his jet, he still didn’t know what the fuck to say to Nick if he came back, but his brother and son didn’t.
A selfish part of him wondered if Nick would still care if they both died.
Probably not. Thank god he wasn’t a complete fuck up.
—
The celebration died down and he was walking back from his long-ass debrief. Getting reamed for launching without orders.
He felt his phone ping with a text.
Come over for dinner when you’re onshore.
Jake gave a small smile at that as he sent back a reply.
—
“Hangman! Hangman! Lieutenant Seresin! Jake!”
It was the inverted version of Mav calling out for Rooster during that first day in the tarmac. Except Jake was already turning around once Mav said Lieutenant.
“Jesus, Mav, calm down, I hear ya, I ain’t goin’ anywhere yet, pops,” Jake said, raising his hands up as he flicked his toothpick to the side of his mouth. “Don’t stretch your legs too far tryin’ to keep up with me,'' Jake said, smirking.
Mav rolled his eyes upwards as he put his hands on his hips, as if asking god for patience. Heh.
“I wasn’t able to talk to you one-on-one after the mission, kid, how are you?” Mav said, eyes softening as he looked at Jake up and down.
Jake felt self-conscious, as he straightened up instinctively, which was dumb because surely Mav wouldn’t notice that he was eating less. That he felt more tired each day. That he doesn’t know what kind of man he is.
“I’m fine, Mav, just thinking,” is all Jake could say.
“Don’t think too hard, kid, you might hurt yourself,” Mav said, giving Jake a smile, but there’s a glint in his eye that told him he meant it.
Mav’s an ace.
“Do you think about it, often?” Jake blurted out.
Mav furrowed his brow, “Think about what?”
Killing people.
No, not now.
“Nothing, nothing, sorry, pops, long day, just thinkin’ about how much the big bosses lectures on and on and on,” Hangman said, cringing at the babbling he just did.
Mav frowned, looking unconvinced, but gave a grin when command’s lectures were brought up, “I just learned to tune it out and forget. After you hear the first one, it all sounds the same, anyways.”
Jake barked a laugh at that, “You’re a menace, Mav.”
Mav grinned at Jake’s laugh, shoulders relaxing as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders.
“Anyways, I’m here to ask if you’re free tonight? My family and I are having dinner together and I want you to join in,” Mav said. “Some of the other Daggers will be there.”
He felt a pang of regret when he realized he’d have to decline, and it must have shown on his face, when Mav gave an understanding smile.
“Have plans, already, huh?”
“Yeah, a,” grandpa, family, mentor, father-figure-, “friend invited me for dinner, I haven’t seen him in a while, and yeah. I wanna hang out with ya pops and the squad, cross my heart, it’s just that I already got plans, and-”
Mav cut him off with a chuckle, “I get it, kid, don’t work yourself up, there will always be next time. Just promise me I won’t have to bail you out of jail tonight and you have fun.”
Jail with Nick? What a joke.
“Aye, Aye, Captain!” Jake said, giving Mav a salute, smirking as Mav shooed him away.
“Yeah, yeah, go on, brat, don’t cause trouble, you hear me!?”
“As if you can talk.”
—
Jake took a deep breath as he turned off the ignition of his truck, grabbing the beers he brought. He ain’t gonna come to a dinner empty handed, and Nick was more of a beer guy, rather than a wine guy.
He went up to the door and knocked.
“Hangman?”
“Mav?” Jake said, blinking his eyes in shock.
“Jakey! You made it, kiddo,” Nick greeted warmly, gently pushing Mav away to envelop Jake in a tight hug. Jake closed his eyes and leaned in, burying his eyes on the older man’s shoulder, trying to reciprocate the hug despite his hands being full.
“Here, let me take that from you, buddy, and you two can catch up for a little bit,” Mav said when Jake pulled away from the hug, taking the beer from his hands.
“It’s okay, pops–”
“How come Mav gets pops, but you call me gramps?” Nick said, pouting as he slung an arm around Jake’s shoulder.
“Because,” Jake said dumbly, still a bit shock at seeing Mav.
“Ahh forgot to tell ya I invited my former wingman, Mav and of course you’ve heard of my son, Brad-Brad,” Nick said leading Jake to the kitchen. “Some other guys will be coming, later, some of them are part of Mav’s squad.”
“We’re well-acquainted Goose, heck, the kid even told me he couldn’t come to hangout with us because he had plans with a friend,” Mav said grinning at the two of them.
“Awwww, so you do see me as a friend, huh, Jakey?” Goose cooed, ruffling Jake’s hair as Jake pushed him away.
“I didn’t know you were invitin’ me to the thing I was already invited to!” Jake protested, blushing.
“Hey Dad, where’s the— holy shit, Hangman, you came?” Bradshaw Jr. said, walking into the kitchen. “Mav said you said no, did something happen?” Rooster asked, furrowing his brow.
Jake finally had a side by side view of the two Bradshaw’s. Definitely related. Should have figured that out years ago.
“Ohhh good that you’re here Brad, here’s the baby brother I promised you years ago,” Nick said, steering Jake by the shoulders to push him towards Bradley. “You’ll love him, play nice, okay?”
“That is a pain in my ass, grown-ass man,” Bradley said, blinking slowly as if he couldn’t understand what was happening. “How the hell did you two even meet?”
“Oh, I found him in a bar acting like a mixture of Mav and Ice and I just gotta keep him,” Nick said casually.
“Baby brother-?”
“Congratulations, you’re adopted, kid,” Mav said, taking a sip of his beer. “Wait til Ice sees you.”
“Ice?”
“Iceman,” Nick said. “Tom-Tom, Tommy, Tomcat, you will probably be calling him gramps.”
“I am not calling the COMPACFLT, gramps,” Jake said, jaw-dropping.
“No, you will be calling my brother, gramps, Jakey, plus they already expect it, they have heard many stories about you.”
“You talk about me to the Iceman!?” Jake said, his pitch rising an octave.
“And me, and everyone else, I was wondering why I haven’t heard about this aviator kid Goose here was talking about, started thinking he adopted an air force kid or something,” Mav said grinning. “He only really called you Jakey.”
“Or Jake-Jake, Jay, Baby J –” Bradley started, smirking at a flushing Jake.
“THAT’s enough,” Jake said, pushing at Bradley to cut him off, but Bradley just laughed.
“Boys enough. Bradley, stop teasing your brother. Jakey, no pushing,” Goose said wagging a finger at them.
“Yeah, yeah, dad,” Bradley said, rolling his eyes.
“Also, we need to make a custody contract, Goose, I want partial custody of these two,” Mav said looking way too serious as he pulled out a pen and a piece of paper.
“We need to wait for the other boys to show up first, I have a feeling Cyclone or Iceman would be calling dibs,” Goose said grinning.
“What?” Jake said, confused.
“It means, you’re stuck with us now, Jake-Jake,” Bradley said, ruffling the blond’s hair.
—
“You named your kid, Bradley Bradshaw?”
“I wanted a little Brad-Brad.”
#fanfic#top gun maverick#top gun#top gun fandom#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#pete maverick mitchell#mavdad#tom iceman kazansky#bradley rooster bradshaw#nick goose bradshaw#parental nick goose bradshaw#cyclone and ice and the other flyboys are dads here too#i just like the thought of Jake being adopted and be given love#bradley is gonna be a big brother in this one#jake hangman seresin needs a hug
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taylor swift lyrics, the tortured poets department edition, part one
fortnight
▸ i was supposed to be sent away but they forgot to come and get me.
▸ i was a functioning alcoholic till nobody noticed my new aesthetic.
▸ no one here's to blame but what about your quiet treason?
▸ for a fortnight there, we were forever.
▸ i took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary.
▸ i love you, it's ruining my life.
▸ thought of calling you but you won't pick up.
the tortured poets department
▸ who uses typewriters anyway?
▸ you're in self-sabotage mode.
▸ we're modern idiots.
▸ you smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate.
▸ i chose this cyclone with you.
▸ sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.
▸ so tell me, who else is gonna know me?
▸ that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.
my boy only breaks his favorite toys
▸ you should've seen them when they first got me.
▸ i only break my favourite toys.
▸ i should've known it was a matter of time.
▸ we could've played for keeps this time.
▸ i know i'm just repeating myself. put me back on my shelf.
▸ i'll tell you that [you/they] run because [you/they] love me.
▸ i knew too much.
▸ you saw forever so you smashed it up.
▸ once i fix me, you're gonna miss me.
▸ you took me out of my box, stole my tortured heart, left all these broken parts and told me i'm better off but i'm not.
down bad
▸ for a moment, i knew cosmic love.
▸ now i'm down bad, crying at the gym.
▸ everything comes out of teenage petulance.
▸ fuck it if i can't have [you/them].
▸ i might just die, it would make no difference.
▸ i might just not get up, i might just stay down bad.
▸ fuck it, i was in love.
so long, london
▸ my spine split from carrying us up the hill.
▸ i stopped trying to make you laugh.
▸ how much sad did you think i had in me?
▸ i didn't opt in to be your odd man out.
▸ i'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.
▸ you say i abandoned the ship but i was going down with it.
▸ my friends said it isn't right to be scared every day of a love affair.
▸ just how low did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode?
▸ you swore that you loved me but where were the clues?
▸ i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place.
but daddy i love him
▸ i just learned these people only raise you to cage you.
▸ i just learned these people try and save you 'cause they hate you.
▸ they slammed the door on my whole world. the one thing i wanted.
▸ you should see your face.
▸ no i'm not coming to my senses.
▸ i know [you/they]'re crazy but [you/they]'re the one i want.
▸ all my plans were laid.
▸ growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all.
▸ i'll tell you something right now, i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning.
▸ i'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace.
▸ i don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing.
▸ god save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for me.
▸ you ain't gotta pray for me if all you want is gray for me. then it's just white noise and it's just my choice.
▸ scandal does funny things to pride but brings lovers closer.
▸ fuck 'em, it's over.
▸ time, doesn't it give some perspective?
fresh out the slammer
▸ fresh out the slammer, i know who my first call will be to.
▸ handcuffed to the spell i was under, for just one hour of sunshine.
▸ years of labor, locks and ceilings, in the shade of how [they were] feeling.
▸ it's gonna be alright, i did my time.
▸ as i said in my letters, now that i know better, i will never lose my baby again.
▸ my friends tried but i wouldn't hear it, watched me daily disappearing.
▸ ain't no way i'm gonna screw up, now that i know what's at stake here.
florida!!!
▸ you can beat the heat if you beat the charges too.
▸ they said i was a cheat, i guess it must be true.
▸ this city reeks of driving myself crazy.
▸ little did you know, your home's really only a town you're just a guest in.
▸ i'm barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine.
▸ well, me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time.
▸ yes, i'm haunted but i'm feeling just fine.
▸ all my girls got their lace and their crimes.
▸ i did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that have ever been on my body.
▸ i've got some regrets, i'll bury them in florida.
▸ tell me i'm despicable, say it's unforgivable.
▸ love left me like this and i don't want to exist.
#rp meme#rp starters#sentence starters#lyrics rp starters#lyrics starters#lyrics rp meme#roleplay meme#lyrics meme#taylor swift lyrics rp meme
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How do you think the welcome home cast would react to a reader who plays the mc of some kids show like the sesame streets or a reader who usually acts in musicals like ride the cyclone or heathers
Sorry if it sounds too much this is actually my first time requesting TT
Hello dear Anon! Don't sweat it! Your request is quite fine, I'm honored to be the first person you requested to write this!
Welcome Home Cast with a gn! Neighbor who plays the MC in a children's show
— 𖤐 —
Warnings: /
𖤐 I won't beat around the bush, but the whole neighborhood was amazed by it! A neighbor who plays the most important role in a show! And it's their neighbor!
𖤐 Sally Starlet, once she got to hear about it, she definitely had stars as eyes once she heard of it! She was completely over the stars about it! (Possibly even the moon!)
𖤐 expect that she will learn your lines, a true theater kid by heart! You could possibly even call her your biggest fan! (Now thinking about it, if you were someone who acts in musicals, there will be a big BIG hint that she wants to re-act those musicals with you!)
𖤐 Julie Joyful really was joyful! Ecstatic! You could name them all! She was possibly giddy once you talked about it, getting stars in her eyes like Sally! It must be fun being the star of the show!
𖤐 Frank Frankly, the well known bookworm in the neighborhood may not have been as amazed or possibly be even joyful like Julie was, but it certainly caught their attention. Maybe you could even turn their frown slightly upside down! (But you clearly didn't hear that from me!)
𖤐 Barnaby b. Beagle, well known prankster in the neighborhood finds himself impressed! Even gives you a slight praise with a pat on the back, but it's expected that'll he'll crack at least a joke (maybe even two if he feels like it!)
𖤐 Howdy Pillar found himself rather jolly, or well rather a bit more jolly! (which he always is! It's quite hard to express his character), you could even find him nodding along while you're talking, he's all ears after all.
𖤐 Eddie Dear (who's often busy delivering letters to the neighborhood) does make time to listen to what you have to say, he's happy! For you especially! But you could expect that he'll forget it after awhile, it isn't a complete bummer, he'll try to remember it (and even if he doesn't, he'll have the same reaction even if you tell him again!)
𖤐 Poppy Partridge really got her feathers raised! (In a positive light of course) even if she seemed rather frantic, it didn't seem like she minded on you being a important role in a show– specifically for kids, but at least it wasn't bad news she had to hear! (Even if she does think of the worst outcome, it felt better to prove her thought wrong instead!)
𖤐 last but not least, Wally Darling had his usual smile on his face, feeling quite happy for you! But he still views you as well, you! MC of a children's show or not, you're still his neighbor after all! Nothing will change his perspective. But you knew that already, didn't you?
𖤐 the neighbors still love you the same way of course! Being a important role in a children's show shows no difference to anyone, that wouldn't be neighborly of them after all! It's you who they see! Their neighbor who just happenes to be well known to children.
#welcome home#welcome home x reader#sally starlet x reader#julie joyful x reader#barnaby b. beagle x reader#howdy pillar x reader#eddie dear x reader#poppy partridge x reader#wally darling x reader#frank frankly x reader
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Is It Working For You? Part 3 | Rooster x Reader
And here is Part 3, because you are all lovely and I now have 100 followers! Thank you!
If you need to start from the beginning, check my Masterlist.
Summary: You feel bad and you should; Rooster looks like a kicked puppy.
Warnings: angst, some swears, adult banter, getting more into 18+
Length: 2600
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
You wanted nothing more than to go home and climb into bed. You literally felt like shit. Worse than shit. You felt like a villain, and even your heart was mad at you about it. And of all things, you were shocked to realize how much involvement your heart had in this scenario.
You leaned forward and let your head hit the desk in front of you. "All right there, lieutenant?" Maria asked you viciously. She was currently so mad at you, you could feel the daggers she was glaring. Apparently she had heard more of your lunch conversation than you originally thought she had, and she was firmly on Team Rooster.
"No," you muttered and raised your head just as Cyclone and Warlock were returning from their lunch break. It was time to get back to work, but you had no motivation. You were supposed to be going over software updates that would help the Dagger aviators with training. It was literally your responsibility to keep them safe on this mission. As safe as you possibly could. Your stomach soured even further as you realized it might be Bradley flying this course for real in just a few weeks. That was enough motivation for you to open your computer and get to work, at least for a few minutes.
Unfortunately, from your seat in the tower, you had the perfect view of all the aviators down on the tarmac as they had a meeting with Maverick before heading to their F/A-18s. There was Bradley, looking hotter than sin. But now his hair was a mess, as he kept running his hands through it, and he was sporting a frown. As soon as they were dismissed, he headed right for his aircraft and started on his safety checklist.
The tower radios crackled to life, and Maverick announced that the next group up would be the Green Team, consisting of Phoenix, Bob and Rooster. You tried to focus on everything you needed to get done, but you could hear Bradley communicating with the tower before taking off.
You sighed and rubbed your eyes. "You deserve to feel bad. You clearly ruined his day. And you made him frown," Maria told you in a monotone voice as she typed up an email. She was literally giving you the cold shoulder, turning away from you slightly even though she was sitting right next to you.
"You did not react like this when I turned down Jake Seresin."
"He didn't frown and look like a kicked puppy afterwards. Also, it was probably good for Jake that you did that, he seems like the type who always gets what he wants. Today, on the other hand, with Bradley Bradshaw? What even is your problem?" she asked, glare intensifying.
"It's not like you even know him! I barely know him! Why are you so invested?" you asked as Lieutenant Cam Harvey, your friend since your Naval Academy days, slipped into the seat on the other side of Maria.
"Because he's perfect for you! And I can tell you like him," she replied indignantly.
Your heart bounced around in your chest. You had wanted to tell Bradley yes, you really had. He seemed sweet, and he was funny, and oh so easy on the eyes. But you really needed to focus on your career instead of giving any appearance that you were getting places by sleeping around with other officers.
"Who is perfect for her?" Cam asked cautiously, alarmed by Maria's tone.
"Rooster," she told him, still keeping her shoulder turned away from you.
"Why don't you ask him out then?" he asked, leaning over to look at you.
"He just asked her out, and she said no!"
"I have my reasons, okay?" you told them both quietly as the flight proceedings were about to begin. "It's hard enough for women here, I don't want to make it seem like I want attention from all these pilots. I don't want to look like the one who sleeps around to get a promotion, okay? Female officers are already outnumbered seven to one, and I don't want to look like a joke. Plus, Rooster will most likely have moved on in a few weeks. He will have probably literally and figuratively shipped out. You know how these guys are. So what's the point? And if I keep it casual and try to keep it quiet, everyone will find out anyway, and I'll be labeled a slut. It was bad enough what happened with Kyle when I tried to keep it casual. So please, drop it."
Maria turned toward you sympathetically. "Okay. I get what you're saying. But, maybe he's different. I mean, you are interested in him, right?"
"Obviously," you groaned as Rooster's voice sounded through the radio.
"Tally, tally, Maverick at eight o'clock low! Break right, Phoenix!"
"Breaking right! Talk to us, Bob!"
You listened to the three of them try to outmaneuver Maverick, something that sounded impossible to your somewhat untrained ears. They went at it for a long time, before Maverick forced a move on them.
"Phoenix, now!" Rooster called over his radio before Maverick got him in his sights and eliminated him.
"He kind of sounds like a stand up guy. He just saved his teammates and their mission at his own expense," Cam mentioned as he adjusted his glasses and worked on the software protocols. "None of the other leaders have been doing that."
Of course Bradley was good to his team! Of course he was! You listened as he cheered on Phoenix and Bob as they successfully eliminated Maverick. They were the first team to do so in almost two weeks. This made you feel even worse.
After they all landed, Bradley gave Phoenix and Bob a massive bear hug between their F/A-18s. They looked absolutely elated. And when Hondo came out to count off his push-ups, Bradley looked more than happy to do them.
Your heart lurched as several of the other pilots cheered him on.
Perhaps you had made a mistake.
-------------------------------------
This had to be a new personal record, eight hundred push-ups in the last two days. But these ones felt good.
When Bradley had twenty more to go, Bob and Phoenix joined him in solidarity. Their team had managed to finally eliminate Maverick. Sure, he'd been eliminated first, but he set Phoenix up for a massive slam dunk, and of course she followed through. And it felt fucking good to nail down Maverick like that.
"Down! 199! Down! 200! Good job, Rooster." Hondo gave him a firm slap on the back and headed back inside the tower. Phoenix and Bob went in as well.
But Bradley needed another minute before he could stand, his arms were absolutely throbbing. As he propped himself into a seated position, he saw the next team was getting ready to take off. Distracted by this, he didn't notice you had come outside.
"Hey, you look thirsty. Thought you might want this." You reached toward him, a cold water bottle in your hand. "And congrats on taking down Maverick."
"Thanks," he grunted, barely meeting your eyes. The elation he felt while flying today almost made him forget about his lunchtime fiasco. Almost. He drained the water bottle in one go and stood to head back to the meeting room.
You licked your lips, seemingly trying to find the words to say what was on your mind, but you remained quiet. Had you just come out here to torture him? Make him smell your sweetness over the odors of jet fuel and hot pavement? Make him look at your gorgeous face?
Probably. You were already capable of torturing him. But that was his fault, not yours. You hadn't really done anything to deserve it, but he turned away from you anyway without another word and went inside.
As soon as he was inside, he realized that trying to hurt you just made him hurt himself more.
-------------------------------------
You spent the rest of the week regretting what you did, but as far as you could tell, there was no coming back from it now. Rooster was avoiding you at every turn. When you sat down at his table for lunch on Wednesday, he inhaled the rest of his food and then power walked out of there. And then on Thursday, you and Maria were supposed to brief all of the aviators on the updated communications system designs, and Bradley went so far out of his way to get Maria to explain it to him instead of you, it wasn't even funny.
Maybe you thought that water bottle you gave him on the tarmac was going to be some sort of peace offering, but clearly Bradley was done. And it took you until Friday morning to realize it, but he had made you feel special. Appealing, even. You'd barely even scratched the surface of getting to know him, but when he spoke to you, you knew you had his undivided attention.
He hadn't said so much as good morning to you since Tuesday, and by Friday, you were determined to get him to talk to you. You cornered him near the door to the meeting room as he strolled in. It was like being hit over the head; it was literally absurd the way your body reacted to him. He was so much taller than you, you had to look way up to meet his beautiful brown eyes when he was this close. And you could feel his body heat. Your heart was racing.
You could tell he was trying to keep his face as calm as possible, but you could see something under the surface. Maybe he was angry at you, maybe he was still disappointed. Either way, if he avoided you when you were right in front of him, you were going to have to excuse yourself to go hide in the ladies' room.
"Good morning, Rooster," you managed, barely above a whisper. To your immediate relief, his lips quirked up into the tiniest of smiles.
He shook his head slightly as he said, "Good morning. You look really nice in your head to toe khaki today."
A laugh bubbled out of you, and his smile grew a bit more. "Don't be mad at me," you told him.
Bradley ran his fingers through his hair and told you, "I couldn't be mad at you, even if I tried."
You felt like you needed to touch him like you had at the Hard Deck. You wanted his fingers on your wrist again. But he quickly ducked around you as soon as Maverick and Cyclone walked in, grabbing a seat next to Fanboy.
----------------------------------
Bradley wasn't sure what you wanted from him, so he would just play as nice as he could. But inside, it was a different story. He still thought about the shape of your body and the sound of your voice. He still thought about pinning you against the wall, and he wondered what kinds of noises you would make if ever you let him take you to bed. But mostly he thought about how hard it was to get what he wanted when it actually mattered to him.
This was one of the times he hated that he had nobody to talk to about this. For a while when he was younger, he believed he would have Mav in his life for this stuff. If his mom were still around, she would have been giving him the best advice. As a teenager, Carole told him to make sure he was always a gentleman. She also told him to always wear a condom and never take a girl on a date just to get in her pants. That wisdom only went so far nearly twenty years ago, as he was a sixteen year old virgin when she died, but he did try to carry it with him as an adult.
But now he was thirty-five years old, for fuck's sake, and yet somehow too stunted to be able to figure this out on his own. What kind of adult was totally unequipped to deal with wanting to date someone instead of just sleeping with them? Maybe he went too fast with you. Maybe he should have waited awhile, got to know you as a friend first. The problem was, he didn't generally want to sleep with his female friends. And the females he wasn't friends with, well they were always fair game for a hookup. But you seemed to fall into a brand new category.
On top of all that, his brain felt fuzzy from a long day of flying. And that's how you were able to blindside him for a second time on Friday. He had been doing a stellar job of keeping contact with you to a minimum since Tuesday, but when he exited the locker room to leave for the weekend, there you were, smack in the middle of the elevator car. And of course you were completely alone. Thankfully you only had to ride down eight floors together.
Your face seemed to light up as he stepped inside, and you made no room to give him more personal space. So he just squeezed in next to you as the doors slid shut.
"Hi," you greeted him cautiously as you pulled one earbud out. Bradley could hear your music playing in the enclosed space.
"What are you listening to?" He couldn't help himself, he had to know.
"Oh, I just have my music on shuffle. Want to listen?"
He shrugged and you handed him your earbud. The second your fingertips danced across his palm, he wanted to push you against the elevator wall and shove his hands up your shirt. He prayed he didn't have a visible hard on in his jeans as he put the earbud in and heard the opening piano notes to a familiar song.
"It's OutKast, but I can change it to something else," you muttered, about to tap on your phone screen.
"No, I like this," he managed to say. Because of course he did. Of course you were listening to an album that he had in his library as well. This was torturous.
And that's how Bradley ended up walking you all the way to your car, as you both quietly hummed along to "Roses", one earbud for each of you. The way you shimmied along to the chorus was not doing him any favors. He could barely remember why he had been avoiding you in the first place.
"It's the red one," you gestured to your beat up little car as you unlocked it and then threw your bag on the backseat. "It's ugly, but it's dependable," you added, seemingly in its defense.
Bradley laughed, and before he could think any better of it, he asked, "Does that represent your taste in guys too?"
You looked him right in the eyes for the first time since he got in the elevator. "No, I like them pretty and dependable."
Well that probably ruled him out then, given his facial scars. He handed you back your earbud. "Thanks for the song. Enjoy your weekend," he said as he turned to leave.
You bit your bottom lip before calling out to him. "Hey Bradley, will you be at the Hard Deck tomorrow night?"
"Uh, probably. I have a standing appointment to lose at darts," he told you with a smile and a small wave before turning back toward his Bronco.
-----------------------
It took me awhile to think of a song with a baller piano intro that was also long enough for a walk all the way to your car.
The upcoming chapters will be longer, and there will be several of them!
Part 4 is up!
@hotch-meeeeeuppppp @swthxrry @yaboid19 @mak-32
@miles-rooster @solacestyles @avoirlecoupdefoudre
@daisyhollyxox @grxnde-dwt @callsigndiamond
#top gun fanfiction#rooster fanfic#rooster#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#rooster x female reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader
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Wholesome prompt: sonic teaching tails how to play guitar?
word count-971
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“Dude, this isn't rocket science.” Sonic said, laughing at the confused look on his brother's face as he repositioned the younger’s fingers again.
“Of course not. Rocket science is easier than this.” Tails grumbled, shifting to sit in a more comfortable position.
“You're being dramatic.” The hedgehog rolled his eyes before plucking the same three cords again to remind the kid of the melody. “It's not hard. It shouldn't even hurt, your fingers are destroyed.”
“It doesn't hurt.” The fox mumbled, pulling at the first string. He frowned at the guitar, “Even if it did, that's not the problem.”
“Then what is?” Sonic asked, gently placing his paw to cut off the noise. The younger seemed to shrink into himself at the fact his hero's attention was now fully on him.
Tails debated with himself on whether he should talk about his concerns. He ended up deciding against it and gave the guitar back to its owner. “Nothing.”
“If it's nothing then why are you giving my guitar back?” Sonic asked, raising a brow as he nudged the instrument back towards the other.
“Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal.” The kit said, setting the guitar in his brother's lap before standing up. “I should get back to working on the weapon upgrades for the Cyclone anyway. I still—” He was cut off by his own yip when his wrist was grabbed and pulled, landing him right in the hedgehog’s lap.
“Not today, kiddo.” Sonic shook his head as his arms banded around the fox's middle, the guitar laying on the floor of the workshop beside them. “I won't force you to learn it, you know that, but you seemed excited about it when you asked me to teach you. What's going on?”
Tails groaned at the tone of the older’s voice. He leaned his head back against the teens shoulder, “It's stupid.” He grumbled, “Seriously, I–”
“What did we talk about with that?” The kit bit his lip at that and started to fidget with his fingers. The older sighed, one of his paws gently taking the younger’s two to stop him, “If it's bothering you, it isn't stupid. Not to me.”
Tails stared at the paw atop of his own for a few quiet seconds as he argued with his own brain. He knew he wasn't winning this fight, so might as well let it play out. “I play the violin.”
“..Okay?” Sonic hesitated to answer, not having expected that. “What about it?”
“I looked it up. It's easier to learn guitar than to learn violin.” The kit explained, letting one of his tails drape across his lap as the other wrapped around the hedgehog. “And yet I keep screwing up the basics that I already know from violin.”
Sonic thought on it for a minute, his eyes trailing around the room before they landed on a cupboard. “Maybe we need to treat you like a true beginner, then.” He said, setting the fox on the ground before running to the cupboard to search through it.
“But I'm not a full beginner.” Tails said, his head tilting to the side in confusion as he watched the older, “Regardless, how are my mints going to help anything?”
“Just trust me, will ya?” The older grunted, pulling out a square package of some mint flavored gum. Tails wasn't crazy about gum, but he kept it so he'd have something to chew that wasn't his lip, tongue, or whatever writing utensil he used.
Tails’ confusion only grew once a stock of gum was presented to him, but he took it anyway, “What do you want me to do with this?”
“Give it a little kiss, Tails.” Sonic teased before rolling his eyes and poking the fox’s nose, “You never eat gum before? Chew it.”
“How does this help anything?” The kid asked as he unwrapped the gum, placing it in his mouth.
“The guy who introduced me to guitar said it helps.” The hedgehog shrugged and tossed the package over to the general area of where the cupboard was, earning an annoyed glare from his little brother.
He didn't pay attention to or though, already zipping off to dig in a new cabinet. He quickly emerged with a pair of headphones, running back over to his original spot and pulling the kid back onto his lap.
“Headphones?” Tails asked, not even bothering to fight against the older’s hold. “How–”
“You learn better when other people can't hear.” Sonic winked at him as he dug his phone out of his shoe, plugging in the headphones.
“How exactly do you plan on teaching if you can't hear when I mess up?” The fox mumbled, his ears twitching at the sound of him chewing the gum.
“Just trust me, kid.” The teen smiled as he turned on his music app, letting the songs shuffle as he handed the guitar back to the fox.
He gently positioned the kit’s finger again before playing the three cords again, resting his chin on the younger’s head.
Tails went to say something, but decided it'd be easier to simply not question his brother's antics. He went to pull the strings, a bit surprised he managed to copy the melody almost exactly. He was just a bit too slow.
He rolled his eyes when he felt the older squeeze him, knowing there was a grin on his face. “Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled despite knowing the hedgehog wouldn't hear him.
“See?” Sonic's voice was elevated now due to the music blasting in his ears, causing Tails’ ear to lower slightly, “Big bro knows best, keed.”
The fox rolled his eyes and elbowed the older in his ribs, but couldn't help the smile that grew when the hedgehog laughed at him.
He had the best, most annoying big brother ever.
#AHH MADE IT#it's freezing in the room im in so i typed this all out painfully slow#but it's fine#happy wednesday yall#im not making you cry this week 🫶#miles tails prower#sonic the hedgehog#sth#tails the fox#sonic#unbreakable bond#dynamic duo#no-need-to-apply#myyanswers#myydrabs#sonic drabble#drabble#wholesome sonic and tails wednesday#wsatw#wholesome wednesday
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chapter five.
masterlist
Chapter summary: Your father arrives, the end of the month draws near, and you and Gaara hit some milestones . . .
Chapter warnings: 18+, smut (THATS RIGHT YOU GUYSS), lots of angst, physical sickness
Word count: 12k
A/N: full notes on ao3! Pls let me know if you find any errors tumblr hates me (and I hate tumblr <3333)
Read on ao3 here:
You knew it was him, though his back was to you. For you had been walking behind him all your life.
An entourage of personal guards surrounded your father. Cyclone. The strongest band of ninja from the Oasis village. All of them carried shields fashioned like scorpion pedipalps. Face masks covered all but their eyes. In the center was your father. The elders listened with rapt attention as he raconteured some epic story containing a dragon with arms outstretched and a stentorian voice. Baki sat among them, his eye shifting between you and Father. Neither Kankuro nor Temari were present yet.
“Ahh,” said Ebizo. “And here is Lord Kazekage now.”
Your father turned to see who had come, his eyes widening underneath the disk of his village head hat; they were devoid of the madness you were accustomed to seeing in them.
“(Y/n) …” Father ignored Gaara to marvel at you. He strolled, arms wide, to you. “My angel.”
He roped arms around you; you suppressed a flinch. He parted to caress your face. “I’ve been blind without the light of your smile,” he said.
“Father …” Your voice was high with hope. “I’ve … I’ve missed you.”
“Not nearly as much as I have missed you, my star.” His voice hadn’t been this gentle in addressing you since you were a child, lulled to sleep by the bounce of his knee. “How I managed in the dark, I will never know.”
Gaara bowed to him. “I have hoped to meet you for a very long time, Lord Boutoku.”
“Oh, son-in-law.” Your father strode toward Gaara, arms ready to embrace him. “You are the splitting image of the fourth Kazekage himself.”
He enveloped Gaara as everyone watched, not sure of what to say.
“Come,” Father urged. “There’s much to discuss.”
Your father’s Cyclone parted down the middle to admit the three of you. You followed Gaara to the table, but your father remained on his feet.
“It is a shame Lady Ikanago is absent,” Ebizo said. “She would have relished this the very most.”
“There will be more than enough time for me to become acquainted with the Sand’s dignitaries, surely,” your father said.
“Lord Boutoku was just telling us about the customs of your village,” Baki told you.
“Yes,” your father said. “Now —“
The door burst open. Temari and Kankuro came through.
“Don’t start without us —!”
“Kankuro, get off my foot —!”
“Ahh,” your father said, “and this must be Lord Kazekage’s eldest sister.”
Their eyes widened before they hastened to compose themselves, hands going behind their backs.
“Uh — yes.” Temari bowed. “A pleasure.”
“It’s very nice to see you again, Lord Boutoku,” Kankuro said.
“The feeling is mutual,” your father said. “Come, come. Now that we’re all here, we can discuss the wedding at last. But first.” Your father clapped his hands, and a servant knelt at his side, offering something in his hands. Your father took it to give to you. “Your mother made me promise to pass this on to you when the time came, and I infringe upon her memory if I withhold it from you a moment longer.”
A small velvet box. You opened it: a ring.
Your mother’s ring.
“It’s beautiful,” Gaara said.
You gawked at the miraculous rock for a few seconds longer before slowly raising your head to your father. He had loved no one in the world more than her. Hideo a close second (and you last, probably). Warmth blanketed over your entire being as Father squeezed your hand.
“I am sure Lord Kazekage had his own plans for securing a ring. I hope he does not mind,” he said, eyes soft on you.
“Not at all,” Gaara interjected. “The Oasis is very loyal to its traditions; I suspected something like this may happen.”
And he gently took the ring box from your hand as the members of the council watched, entranced by the sight of Gaara taking the ring from the box and sliding it over your finger.
You raised your hand to the light; the ring shone like a star he’d pricked from the sky just for your finger. You observed the scene, as if it had been plucked from one of your daydreams. Gaara before you, your father blessing it all, Kankuro, Temari, and Baki smiling.
“I’m … so happy,” You said, choked with emotion. “Thank you, Father, I — Thank you …!”
“What a blessed union,” Ebizo said. “Hopefully, Lord Boutoku will be open to answering a few of our questions?”
“Of course,” Father boomed. “Of course!”
Your father spoke of the traditions of your village. Dual colors were decided on, a mixture of the Sand’s beige with your village’s blue, along with the special foods that have become specialties in the Oasis. By the end, there was a layout for the reception, who would be coming and then seated where.
It was surprisingly fun for you. Temari had taken it upon herself to bring a binder to keep the information safe and at hand. You were waiting for your father to pause in the event of possible objections, but it obviously wasn’t necessary; the council was besotted with your father, hanging on his every word as he circled the council’s oval table as though lecturing them.
“Now,” Father sighed dramatically with a pat of his thigh, “if the council would oblige me, the trip here was excessive, and I am not as young as I used to be …”
“Of course,” Ryusa said. “A period of rest is warranted now.”
A Sand guard appeared by Gaara’s side to whisper, “It’s time, Lord Kazekage.”
Gaara nodded as you frowned, confused. It hit you: Matsuri.
“Gaara,” You murmured. “I want to come. I know this will be hard for you.”
“And I would like you to be with us.” Gaara lowered his head. “But perhaps it’s better for you to stay and reconnect with your father.”
A few seconds and you said, “Okay.”
“And,” Gaara smiled, “perhaps excise a few details?”
You chuckled. “Will do.”
You gave Gaara’s arm a reassuring squeeze before he raised from his seat, Kankuro and Temari following him.
“I’ll send one of them to tell you how things went,” Gaara said.
You nodded and watched the three of them leave. By the time you turned your attention back to the council, it was disbanding. Your father came to you.
“I finally have you to myself, my dove,” he said. “Lord Kazekage has fixed me with my own quarters. Come along. We have much to talk about.”
You didn’t know what to expect as you entered your father’s private room. Similar to yours, save for the luxuries yours didn’t possess (which, you were sure, was Temari’s doing in an effort to impress him). A fireplace crackled in the quiet space, dousing amber light on the sitting room floor as the curtains were drawn. Two plush loveseats faced each other, separated by a rug and a coffee table. A large bed sectioned off in the corner.
Your father followed you in, Chuuyou on his tail.
“These knees.” Your father sank into a couch with a pained sigh. “Never get old, (Y/n). Promise me that.”
“I promise,” You said simply to obey.
“Chuuyou.” Father turned to him. “I applaud you for protecting my daughter, as you have. You have made both your village and head proud.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Chuuyou bowed his head, both out of respect and, though he could not hide it from you, to conceal his guilty expression.
He’s still thinking about the beach.
Seconds passed in silence. You sat across from Father, feeling as though it was what he was waiting for, and remained stock still. Another sigh from him. He appeared aged in a way he never had to you before.
“Despite all my orders,” he said after a century, “you still have not tried to poison him.”
Oh no. You balled your fists in your lap. You shrank into yourself, desperate to make yourself smaller.
“I’m sorry.” You hung your head. “I’m sorry I disobeyed, I … I just couldn’t.”
“… Thank the gods.”
You looked up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I have been rash.” Father ran a hand over his face. “There is more benefit to you marrying the Kazekage than there could ever be in disposing of him.”
“But …” Hope, once again, sat tentatively inside of you, unsure of its place in this conversation. “What about Hideo?”
There it was — the insane look common in your father’s eye rushed into his irises, all for it to disappear as quickly as it had come. Father lowered his gaze, his entire being depressed and deflated, and for a moment you felt the full weight of your father’s losses like it was yours. And in a way, it was.
“I have lost a great deal, by living in the past,” your father said. “I refuse to lose anything else … It was a mistake to send you here under such nefarious pretenses.”
“Father …” You were so quick to tears lately and now was no different. You couldn’t believe it. Relief and sympathy raised within you. The vice, wrapped around your heart always, fell away.
“Just tell me one thing,” he said, looking up at you finally. “Do you think you may come to love him?”
You thought, now, of Gaara, and the unobstructed path that now led to him.
“Yes.”
Matsuri was relocated to the Sunagakure prison later that day. Multiple accounts of her espousing her jealousy and displeasure of Gaara’s imminent marriage to you had reached a variety of ears, and, with all the evidence against her and no more cards to play, her guilt was obvious.
In the midst of all of this, all you wanted to do was go to Gaara — to be there for him and because, freed from your bond of violence, you ached for him — but you fought against it. Surely what he needed now was time to breathe. Despite knowing so little of her, you knew Matsuri had been his student, and to watch her fall into treason due to personal feelings had to be traumatic.
You just wanted to be out of the way. You couldn’t shake the feeling this was partially your fault to begin with. You kept to your room, unsure of what to do with all this free time and lack of anxiety. You couldn’t believe you were free. You admired the little piece of sky sparkling on your finger. You only had the slightest recollections of your mother wearing it as she held you, tending to your tiny body and needs.
You held your ring finger with a tenderness mirroring hers, sat at your windowsill as evening sighed into night, the soft whistling of the wind brushing past a village at peace, when a knock ripped you from your reverie.
You straightened. “Come in.”
You expected a maid who’d come to tell you dinner was ready, but —
“Are you all right?”
You startled. Gaara shut the door behind him, never taking his eyes off you, and let himself into your room. He was without his Kage robes, dressed in his trench coat.
“Gaara,” You said, astonished. A pause.
“I’ve not seen you all day.”
“I thought it best to stay away,” You said. “Are you all right?”
His eyes rounded with clarity. “You’ve heard.”
“Maids like to gossip.”
He was quiet for a second. He looked away. “It is done.”
“I am so sorry.” You removed yourself from the window seat and crossed the room to him. You folded your arms, having it awkward to have them simply dangle there, and you weren’t sure if Gaara would like to be touched.
Gaara’s head hung still. He looked so aggrieved, tiredness lining his face.
“What happened?” You asked carefully.
“There was an abundance of evidence,” Gaara began. “The elders were especially hard on her. Matsuri cried a great deal.” His hands clenched at his sides. “She kept saying it wasn’t her and that she’d been framed, yet there was nothing she could do or say to defend herself.”
You sat on your bed. “Sit with me,” You said, patting the space beside you.
When he did, he continued: “I forgive her.” Gaara turned to you. “Please do not let this taint your view of who she is. She is still a very talented and gifted shinobi.”
“I won’t.” You shook your head. Despite the anger you felt for Matsuri at the last meeting with the council, it had long since passed, and all you felt was a hollowness for the man beside you, his aggrieved bewilderment your own.
Gaara gazed into his lap, invisible brows furrowed by sorrow. “I … am still perplexed as to how this could have happened … Matsuri … But I also know love is a powerful force that can make people act contrary to themselves.” His hand inched toward yours, resting on your lap. “I know because … though I felt sympathy for Matsuri, I feel as though my heart wasn’t with her.” He looked up at you. “It was with you.”
“Gaara …” You held his hand. You were beyond flattered, and, with the new conditions you were under, you felt you could really lean into the reserved but true affection Gaara was giving you. You, now, lived in the serene turquoise of his eyes as the faintest of smiles crossed his face.
“I wanted to return to you to be by your side. All I could think about was you today, and the ring … Our future.” He rose from the bed, your hand still in his. “Come. There is something I’d like to show you.”
“Of course,” You said, curiosity lilting your voice.
Gaara led you down hallways. You realized you had never been to this area of the palace before. It was a more secluded part of the palace, quieter; nothing but a simple vase potting an enormous plant by the new, mysterious doorway you were led through.
He led you to a door, and all clicked into place for you.
His room. Gaara’s room.
At that moment, you realized you had never actually been to Gaara’s room. You couldn’t even tell anyone where it was in the palace. Sweat pressed against your palms. Warm light filled the room, but it was bare save for a simple wooden desk, a lamp, a bed, a carpet — but what caught your attention was the collection of cacti on the desk.
Definitely Gaara’s room.
He let you in first and you heard him close the door behind him as you took it in with a small smile.
You turned to him. “What do you want me for?”
“I invited you here because I wished to see you in private,” Gaara said. “I want to be alone with you. I’ve …missed having you by my side since the tent. I’ve never had anyone so close to me for so long.” Color came to Gaara’s cheeks. “As a couple,” he began, approaching you, “we should be sharing a room — and a bed.”
You turned to it, conspicuously wide enough for the two of you. You stared. Nothing was keeping you from Gaara now.
“Then perhaps we should make it truly ours.”
Gaara searched your face, your meaning lost on him, as you approached.
This time, you kissed him.
You cupped the back of his head, where crimson hair ran between your fingers. When Gaara reciprocated, your legs weakened, but he kept you steady with all the strength with which you’d been familiarized.
You had not realized your feet were moving backwards until the slight jab at the back of your knees.
With a whimper, you fell backward. Gaara quickly caught you. You sat on the bed, scooting away from him, which he took as a beckon to follow. You sighed when your head pressed into the pillows. Gaara blanketed your body with his, his lips possessing yours a second time.
You moaned, opened your mouth for his tongue to come play with yours. You welcomed the pressure of his body on top of you, your hands once again losing themselves in his hair as he flicked and nibbled against your lips.
“Show me,” Gaara moaned against your jawline, his tone raw and commanding as your hands scaled his back. “Show me everything from the books. I want to know everything.”
“That could take a while,” You hummed, your lips parting as he nibbled at your flushed skin. But we have time. We have all the time in the world.
“Then you should start now.” Gaara nibbled on your neck. Your heels dug into his calves as his wet tongue swept over the vulnerable skin.
You fumbled, pulling yourself out from under Gaara to work your shirt over your head, grappling with the deja vu you felt as you tossed it aside. You couldn’t wait. You couldn’t. Gaara awkwardly fumbled with the buttons of his trench coat until you assisted.
So many layers. You shed your pants away, now down to your underwear. You had never let another see you this naked before, let alone nude, besides your maids, and there were no secrets amongst women. But somehow, you were not nervous as you unhooked your bra. Gaara’s motions had stilled to a stop. Flutters went straight to your cunt with the way his eyes scanned you, hungry, as it slowly unfolded before him.
Your panties hung around one bare ankle when Gaara brushed a hand over your leg. He hooked fingers under your panties to pull them away himself and onto the floor.
“I want to touch you.” His tone was impossibly husky, low. His hand traveled from your leg to your inner thigh.
You laid back down for him. You were completely bare for him now, you realized, as his eyes roved hungrily over your naked flesh. Gaara’s head settled over your chest, pressing kisses against the valley of your breast, one hand preoccupied with your nipple —
“Mm …!” You arched into him. Gaara’s teeth grazed against another nipple. His curious tongue swirled against the rising bud. You heard the buckles of his uniform unfastening as your head sunk in the pillows, and you knew he was in the midst of shedding the remainder of his gear as he busied with your breasts. His naked skin pressed against your thighs. Your cunt throbbed, maddening you to be touched.
Thankfully, Gaara’s curiosity worked in your favor; his lips traveled down your skin, brushing over a nipple before sliding past the bones of your ribcage. His hands hooked over the fat of your thighs, the soft brush of your pubic hair grazing his chin.
“I remember, in the books …” Gaara’s thumb gently spread one lip, your juices surely leaking over. “The man tastes the woman. I want to taste you, too.”
Your heart skipped; Gaara’s hot breath hit your lips. “He licks up the valley of her lips …” .
You gasped. You realized what he was doing; he was quoting Icha Icha.
His lips flicked experimentally at your folds. You flinched, a knee knocking his head.
He paused to examine you. “Does it feel good?”
“Yes, Gaara …” You gripped one of Gaara’s shoulders to compel him forward, excitement causing you to flutter. “It feels so good …”
Not needing to be told twice, he sank down, gave your folds a series of licks. You could feel him pause to taste your juices before starting again.
“Good …” he murmured. “So good … If I’d known …”
“Keep going …!”
You lost a hand in his hair. Gaara was eating you. It was unreal. His hot breath on your lips, his open palms spreading your thighs open, was something right out of your wildest dreams. He ate you gently, experimenting with this new territory that was you. You were more than happy to oblige, spreading your legs wider to become more accessible to him in a way you have never been with any man before him. You gripped the sheets at his sudden kisses, the unsuspected swipes of his tongue. His fingers gently spread and kneaded at your labia, exploring you and overstimulating you in the process.
Gaara came up, accidentally brushing a nose against your clit —
You cried out. You pressed him into your cunt. A quick learner, he tested the tip of his tongue against the nub, coaxing another series of moans from you. Your eyes doubled back as he latched on to your clit, the suction of his lips driving you wild.
You writhed underneath him. Your hands rubbed over his hands as he lapped up your juices.
“Oh — use — Gaara, you have to use your — your fingers, oh!”
Gaara paused momentarily, as though something had occurred to him.
“She welcomed his fingers like old friends into her heat …”
You felt his thumb brush against your folds. It pressed farther in until it breached the entrance of your hole.
“Gaara …!” You pulled at his hair.
He grunted but did nothing to stop you, teasing your entrance with his thumb as his tongue swirled around your clit. Your legs trembled, your back arching off the bed and into his willing mouth. Your juices seeped past the fat of your behind, only for Gaara to reach down to collect it with his tongue.
His breath quickened as he replaced his thumb with a finger, pressing it in —
“Ahh! Ha—aha!” A familiar tightness was tormenting your abdomen. Close, close. You tried to think through your haze; if you could just get him to … “Another, please, and — and curl them up, oh —“
“I will …!”
He obeyed with a soft growl, adding another finger into your slippery heat. Your strangled breath coincided with his fingers sinking in. So full, but not enough. You ached for more, bucking your hips in desperation. As instructed, he brought his fingers up in beckoning —
“Aah!”
Gaara’s tongue returned to your clit, curling his fingers again and again, your juices seeping, slipping past his digits. You rocked into his fingers, finding a rhythm with him.
He sucked and kissed your clit, fingers beckoning one final time —
You cried out, clutching at him with both hands. You clenched over his fingers, the walls around them becoming rougher and tighter as your climax came. You shuddered, biting your lip. Gaara was not stopping, inciting wave after wave through you until you plateaued. Pleasure crashed back down around you, forcing you limp against the bed.
“Gaara!” You warned, pushing him away. “Stop, stop! I — I can’t —!”
Immediately, he pulled his mouth and fingers away. You fell to your side, squeezing your legs. You panted, face hot, and in your haze wondered, in the future, if he would do this to you: edge you without realizing — or maybe on purpose? Finger and fuck your poor insides to make you a fumbling mess, as long as it was what you liked. If you told him, he would do it …
A second or so more and Gaara’s hand brushed against your elbow. “Was that all right?”
You turned over your shoulder to look at him, stars in your eyes. “Incredible.” You twisted to face him, kissing his lips, tasting and smelling yourself on him.
It wasn’t long before you were throbbing again, desperate for more contact. Your overactive imagination made it so. He embraced you in the kiss, his warm cock poking at you. You broke the kiss, panting as you brushed him aside to admire him.
You salivated at the sight of him. Your dream to have him twitching and dripping his seed down your mouth was not gone, but … but you couldn’t wait any longer.
Besides, there would be more time for that.
“I need you inside of me,” You said.
He seemed to understand. You laid back down for him to topple you. Visions of the future — you topping him, bouncing atop his cock, swallowing his seed from under his table— filled your mind. Many fantasies that had already been revisited during your alone times. There would be so much time now. You just needed him.
You helped him position himself. Your excited cunt clenched around nothing in anticipation. You bit your lip as his cockhead brushed against your entrance.
“You will tell me,” Gaara began, both an assumption and an order, “if anything hurts.”
You nodded hastily, clinging to his arms. “Of course.”
“Good,” he said, “because I may not be able to stop.”
His cock slid into you, filling you in ways you couldn’t have imagined. You clung to him, nails digging into his forearms as he filled you to capacity.
You nestled in the crook of his neck. “Gaara …”
Pain gave way to pleasure as Gaara succumbed to a thrust. Your head whirled with the novel sensations. The pain was alien but not immense. You stifled stammers out of fear they might encourage him to stop.
Under no circumstances could he stop.
Another thrust —
“Mmfm!” You threw your head back. Gaara’s lips crashed into yours as he moved against you, slapping his hips into yours.
You bit into his neck this time, nibbling at the hickeyed skin soon to bruise there. Gaara’s hand found your clit by accident — and upon seeing your pleased reaction, fixed his hand there and circled it.
He grunted with pleasure as your legs involuntarily wrapped around his waist. His pants puffed into your skin as he pounded you. “Ti — tight …!”
The pain at your core mingled with the pleasure in a way that was strangely pleasant. Your lips part to emit a confused moan-whimper. You wanted more, demanded more. So enamored with Gaara’s plundering of your cunt and his sounds increasing in volume, you didn’t feel him flinch away until his cock had left you.
Gaara pulled away, a hand glued to his cock with eyes squeezed shut. White spent spilled over your inner thigh with a frustrated cry from Gaara. You watched, mesmerized, as ropes of come spilled from his slit and onto your beaded skin.
“Gaara …” You murmured, cunt squeezing around nothing.
He opened his eyes to mere darkened slits, panting as he observed his work.
“I’m — I’m sorry …” He began to come to his senses, realizing what he’d done. “I didn’t know …”
“It’s okay.” You swept his spent from your thigh with scoops of your finger, disposing of it on the fabric. “They’re just sheets.”
Gaara glanced up at you. “Yes, but you …?”
“It’s okay.” You inched toward him. “I can’t get you back up, don’t worry …”
You caressed his cock, now turning flaccid. Gaara took a sharp intake of breath as your grip grew firm. You ran your tongue over your bottom lip before pressing a soft kiss to his head. You tested the waters, taking him into your mouth slowly to see how he would react. Another kiss and swipe of your tongue —
“Nnrgh …” Gaara fisted the sheets.
You resisted a smirk as you drew back, eyes flickering up at him. “Good?”
“Yes …” His breathing had grown labored, no doubt due to the gentle strokes you spoiled his overstimulated shaft with.
You leaned forward to run your tongue over the ridge of his head, outlining the span of it with your tongue. Gaara’s short, nearly inaudible gasps spurred you on to trap his head between your lips and suck.
“Ah, hah-ah —“
You took in more of him, feeling the veins trailing his cock grow more prominent with each new inch into your mouth. You grazed your fingertips over his balls as you dared another inch, hollowing your cheeks to serve his twitching cock.
“All right.” Gaara’s hand laid on your shoulder. “Enough — enough.”
You obeyed and released him with a pop. He was near fully erect now, his cock level with your face. You dug nails into your thigh. It had been so hard for you to resist tweaking your clit with him buried in your mouth.
“If you go on, I won’t last,” he explained.
You nodded and followed the gesture of his gaze back into bed. He returned to his rightful place above you.
“One day soon, I’ll be on top,” You rambled, cheeks red and hot, as Gaara repositioned himself above you. “I can’t imagine how good you’d feel.”
“That day will be today. I only want to get this right now,” Gaara said, and with the tiniest bit of fanfare, placed his head at the tight ring of your cunt and slid inside.
“Aah — AHAA!”
“You seemed to like this before,” Gaara said, voice raised with teasing tilt as he rolled two finger pads into your neglected clit, accompanying his play with deep, slow thrusts.
“Mm …!” You arched into him, your leg spasmed in his hold as he tapped at your clit, Gaara’s fingers dangerously close to where his cock and your opening met. “Gaara!”
“That’s it,” he said. “That’s what I want to hear.” His thrusts quickened inchmeal, but a simple step felt like a mile. “I won’t be a novice for long, (Y/n). I’ll learn everything.”
He slapped a hard thrust into you and stayed there, your hips to his.
“I’ll make you feel everything,” he said as your head fell back into the disarrayed pillows.
You clenched him hard without meaning to. He had to stop talking, otherwise … The encouragement of your cunt was enough to make Gaara rock into you, lustful grunts sounding above you. You closed your and looped arms around his; his clit play would not stop; three fingers tweaked and circled your clit now, your pleasure mounting.
“She finds herself at the peak of climax, and he would be the one to deliver it to her …!”
With a loud moan, you clenched around him tighter and relished the startled moan he gave. His frown rested against your forehead. He seemed to be battling both with the pleasure he felt and the struggle to understand you, how this was possible. Your clit fixed between his two fingers, driving you mad as he filled you again and again with his cock.
Tightness gripped you again, and you knew were you were close. Gaara’s hand abandoned your calf to knead at your breast, eyes closed as he lost himself in you.
“I — I’m …” he panted. “Again …!”
Gaara’s cock twitched inside of you. Close. How could he not be? You knew this wouldn’t last long, even with the help of your mouth. Your mind blared white, bright with the idea of Gaara coming so deep inside of you —
“Ahah …” Your vision gave you another pleasured throb you didn’t need. “Gaara …!”
Stupid, stupid. You couldn’t let him, you couldn’t —
But you wanted it. Wanted him. You gripped on to him tighter. “Do it,” You ordered. “Do it, I want you — want —“
Yet as he slammed into you one final time and the warmth of his come filled you, you could do nothing but hold him closer and take it. His fingers tormented you, the stimulation sending you over the edge as well.
Gaara pulled out, and you felt the slick of his seed seep from your hole onto the sheets. You moaned, clenching around his spent.
So good …
“Amazing …” he remarked, eyes on your drooling cunt.
You tried to wade through the pleasure thrumming through you to understand your mistake, but couldn’t. The after-sex buzz proved too profound. You could hardly register it as a mistake at all, what with how good you felt, pleasurable aches simmering underneath your flushed skin. You dragged Gaara close for another kiss.
Once released, Gaara said, “I’ve never experienced this level of closeness with anyone …” He wrapped arms around you. He lowered his gaze to your beaded clavicle while you played with the damp ends of his rustled hair. “It is strange, but wonderful, too.”
“Neither have I.” You grinned. He’s so grateful. You admired the light smile that came to Gaara’s face. “Was I good?”
Gaara glanced up. “Is it possible for someone not be to be good?”
You couldn’t discern your blush from the natural post-coitus flush you had. “It’s possible.” You wished you hadn’t said it; Gaara’s brows knit together, his eyes wandering with thoughts. Apparently, you’d given him a new worry. “But you were amazing,” You hastened to add.
His expressions softened. “Good. I’m glad.” He watched you pepper his hand and arms with kisses. “I want to be as good as the men in the books.”
“I think you’ve already achieved that, my love.”
Gaara nestled closer to you in the sheets. His hand flexed — open, close — as you left a kiss on his green veins. “Do we need to stop?” Gaara asked.
You met his eye, your mind drunk with him.
“No,” You said and pulled him forward — for the two of you to be pulled under.
You had very little appetite at breakfast, your mind still enamored with the previous events that had come to pass.
Gaara was, of course, not at breakfast; tending to sensitive Kazekage duties was of the utmost importance. So instead, you choose to eat with Kankuro and Temari.
Gaara had quite the … stamina. You were sure you had looked like murder for the rest of the night; bed hair and wild eyes as you walked Gaara through all the things you had only read about and heard from other noble ladies. Aches you fought to keep discreet restricted a lot of your movements.
The sounds of Gaara’s soft pants and whispers of praise were still in your ear long after they had faded into time. Warmth spread through your cheeks as you stared idly at the water remaining in your glass, looking but not seeing.
“So close, (Y/n) —“
“You feel amazing —“
“Don’t make me stop —“
“(Y/n)? (Y/n)!”
Temari tore you from your reverie, the images of last night turning to watercolor in your mind.
“Watch the salt,” she said, pointing to your plate.
You looked down to see your hand pouring a hill of salt on your fish. You sighed, put it away and shoveled the hill from your plate.
“I’m going to give a speech at the wedding,” Kankuro said, mind made up.
“I think that’s a great idea.” Temari sipped her tea. “Just as long as you tell me what you’re going to say.”
“What?” Kankuro crossed his arms indignantly. “You don’t trust me?”
“Oh, I wonder why, Mr. psychoactive cactus man?”
Kankuro sighed in defeat as you giggled. “All right, fine,” he replied.
“Do you have anything written?” You asked, desperate for something to cling to so you might live in the present.
Kankuro shrugged. “Not yet. I’m not as good with words as Gaara.”
“Nonsense!” You playfully slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure whatever you say will be lovely. You’ve got to let me read.”
Kankuro held up his pinkie. “Promise.”
“I hope Lord Boutoku’s quarters are to his satisfaction,” Temari said as you wrapped your pinkie around Kankuro’s. “We wanted only the best to make him comfortable.”
So it was her. You smiled. “He’s doing well. Thank you, Temari.”
“No problem!”
Better than well, actually; your father had returned to a softer version of himself, ordering servants to and fro and requesting to be served all of his meals in bed. You resisted an eye-roll, thinking about the prima donna that he was. As long as he was happy, you supposed.
“All right, I’m outta here.” Temari set aside a napkin and rose from her seat. “Long day today.”
“With what, exactly?”
“Lady Ikanago has requested details about Lord Boutoku’s arrival, and I said I’d go fill her in,” Temari explained.
“Gonna grab her some painkillers for that hip, too?”
Temari threw a bun at Kankuro’s head, which he aptly caught and bit into.
“Or maybe some purple pandemonium.” Temari snickered as Kankuro blanched. She left her chair. “So long, you two.”
You waved goodbye to her and returned to your breakfast, humming quietly before taking a sip of your water —
“So,” Kankuro began. “You and my little brother sure had fun last night, didn’t you —?”
— You spit out your water.
“Wha — what?” You dabbed yourself frantically with a napkin.
Kankuro’s laughter shook his shoulders, the bun becoming clearly too heavy to hold under the weight of the mirth.
“How do you —“ Your mind went to wild places. “He didn’t tell you —?”
“Are you kidding?” Kankuro said. “Of course not. He’d never; he’s ever bit the gentleman he seems.”
“Then …” You looked around helplessly. “Then how …?”
Kankuro tapped a finger on his temple. “A brother knows these things; I got a good look at him earlier this morning.” He took another bite out of his now crescent moon of a bun and added with a mouth full, “plus, the two of you are such virgins — all dazed and bashful. If this is you trying to hide it, then the whole village will know.”
“Oh, gods.” You hid in your soup. You had passed out long before Gaara and had woken up in his bed without him in it, accompanied only by a simple note telling you Kazekage duties had pulled him away and to go back to sleep full of good dreams.
Kankuro chuckled. “Don’t sweat it. Nobody heard anything.”
“That’s not helping me to not sweat.”
“It’s okay!” Kankuro couldn’t stop grinning. “Really! I’m glad of it.” He shook his head, his smile not having died. “I was worried it’d never happen for him, my poor little brother.”
You groaned, elbow supporting your weight as you ran a hand over your face. “Does Temari know?”
“You’re still alive,” Kankuro said, “so no.”
That earned a little dry laugh from you, a spark of mirth, and it was gone. You looked up through a crack in your fingers. “He looked happy this morning when you saw him, right?”
Kankuro’s expression sobered a bit as he looked into your worried face. “Of course.”
You sighed, relieved.
Kankuro scooped another egg onto his plate. “You gonna go see if he’s still happy?”
“He’s busy.” Both your arms folded on the table. You looked out the window at the faraway blue sky. “I don’t want to bother him.”
In truth, you had no idea what you were supposed to do after sex. Icha Icha was coming up dry on that front; the couples usually lazed in bed or fell asleep together and the time skips gave you no idea what was meant to happen the day after.
“You’re too timid, sis.” Kankuro reached over and pinched your cheek as you grumbled. “Don’t worry about that; we bug him all day with little things. He always says he doesn’t mind. Breaks up the monotony of the day.”
You smiled to yourself. “I don’t know …”
“Both of you think too much,” Kankuro said. “Do you even think last night would have happened if my brother was so sensitive to everything you did? Stop worrying.”
You chuckled. “Okay, okay. I’ll go myself.”
“That a girl.”
You straightened your back as you neared Gaara’s office. Despite your nerves, you did want to see him again.
“Do I look all right, Chuuyou?” You asked.
He blinked, as though surprised you would expect a reasonable answer about fashion from a shinobi. “The skirt complements your legs very well, my lady.”
You nodded, assured. You had opted for your precious fishnets again, with wedged sandals and a skirt to soften their effect. Would everything be different post-coitus? For better or worse? You let yourself into his office.
“Gaara?” You sweetened your voice as the door creaked open.
Two other Sand ninjas flanked Gaara’s desk. Their heads raised when you entered. You met Gaara’s eye immediately, who stiffened upon seeing you.
“Hello, gentlemen,” You said. “I would like a minute alone with my fiancée.”
The ninja exchanged glances. You watched in mild amusement as they obeyed without a word from Gaara and exited.
“They are instructed to listen to you now as well,” Gaara said as the door closed, reading the question on your face. “I thought it appropriate, as you will be a part of my family from now on.”
Butterflies fluttered in your chest as you strode to his desk. You will be a part of my family. You admired your cactus gift now present atop it, now the parent of two tiny succulents flanking either sides of it.
“I apologize for leaving so abruptly,” Gaara said. “My responsibilities as Kazekage …”
“No!” You dismissed him with a nervous laugh. “Don’t apologize, it was nothing.”
“I never would have left you for anything less imperative,” Gaara said while shuffling papers.
Gaara’s fingers grazed yours as they ghosted the wood of the desk. And, upon instinct, you crossed the desk to him. He stared ahead. Rose-colored the pale in his face as he set aside a folder.
“Last night was … all right?”
“That’s a bit of an understatement.” You looped a finger around one of his. “Funny. I was going to ask you the same.”
“Nonsense.” Gaara’s grip grew firmer on your hand. “You were — are — everything a man could ask for.”
You lowered your gaze sheepishly, not knowing what to say to that.
Gaara gave an affirmative nod. “Good. At any rate, there is still much I wish for you to teach me.” He opened a drawer. You gawked at his collection of Icha Icha novels.
“You keep these in here?”
“They don’t interfere with work, I assure you.”
“I could’ve sworn I taught you enough last night!”
“Perhaps for one night,” Gaara said, “but not indefinitely.”
You giggled as he rose to admire you. A gentle smile narrowed his eyes. Gaara’s thumb brushed the side of your face. He left a kiss on your forehead.
Gaara …
“I intend to spend more time with you once my work is done,” Gaara said as he parted from you.
“I understand,” You said and, feigning tiredness, you added, “and in the meantime, I guess I’ll look to see what my father is up to.”
Gaara nodded wordlessly. You pet his hand, not quite through with the feel of his touch, before waving goodbye to him before leaving the office.
You might as well have been walking on pure air; there was nothing tethering you to the earth. Nothing at all.
The end of the month began to draw near. You, your father, and Gaara were in talks about how the two villages would intersect from now on. Father was willing to split his Cyclone down the middle and gift you some of the members, but you weren’t too sure. There were certain classified documents he promised you could now read and, if you deemed it wise, share with Gaara. Those you were more interested in; if you could assist in the coming together of your two villages in any way, that was how you wanted to occupy your time. The diplomacy enthralled you.
But it wasn’t because you didn’t appreciate the effort; Father hadn’t been this warm toward you since the days before your mother had died. It made you feel precious to see him grow incensed about the attack at the beach. You had to suppress laughter when he promised he would send his best to hang your attacker at a town square, slice him into pieces (whatever suited his mood that day) until you steered him on to a different subject. You often had your breakfasts with him now, where he either asked you about your days with Gaara’s family or reminisced about the good old days of being a shinobi (whenever those were, but you knew better than to interject).
And, of course, there was the ever-elusive oasis.
You asked Father if he had told Gaara anything about your village’s greatest secret, but his answers were always vague. Supposedly, he was saving the juiciest information for last.
“He’s told me nothing,” Gaara said during one breakfast Father hadn’t roped you into, “and I think it’s because I haven’t asked. I don’t wish to seem too eager.”
“Well, they can have it,” Temari had said, twirling her fork. “I’m not really that curious about some puddle of water in the middle of the desert — no offense,” she added to you with an apologetic flash of a smile. “I just care about how much of a precedent this will set for other villages we’ve rivaled with.”
“Temari’s right,” Baki said before turning to Gaara. “Excellent deduction skills, Lord Kazekage; we wouldn’t want to make Lord Boutoku uncomfortable with our inquiries. The council is doing more than enough of that on their own.”
Kankuro, you noticed, had been strangely silent on the matter.
You and Gaara were sharing a room now, which you were sure was some kind of symbolic metaphor. You had few possessions to move in besides things that were left in your closet; the clothes you had brought with you to Sunagakure, the clothes you’d bought with Temari, simple knick knacks. Gaara was more than liberal with his personal space and seemed to welcome the intrusion.
You woke one morning — ready to retch. You tore the sheets off of you and sprinted to the bathroom. You ducked your head in the toilet and vomited until you dry-heaved.
You collapsed to the side with a groan. You wiped your mouth and flushed it away.
“Are you all right, my lady?” one of the servants asked, her voice muffled through the closed door.
“I’m — I’m fine!” You rubbed your chest, stiff and aching from the retching.
What was this all about? You hadn’t eaten anything out of the ordinary? In fact, you’d barely eaten anything at all the past few days. Nothing beyond what was necessary to sustain you. Your mind had been on things far more urgent than food. How could you —
A sharp, cold chill ran over you.
No … it can’t be.
… It could.
Leaving out your first night with Gaara, the others had been … extensive. And sorely lacking in protection.
Oh. Oh —
“Damn you, Jiraiya-sensei!” You hissed as you scampered to your feet.
This wasn’t supposed to happen! His characters never used protection! What a fantasy!
But you should’ve known better, after all the stories noble women had shared with you about their accidental pregnancies. Some had even fallen pregnant on their cycle. All of these cautionary tales had impelled the younger ones to be more careful. You had not been careful.
You were pregnant.
Your head spun as you faced yourself in the mirror, ready to … you didn’t know. Laugh maniacally? Cry? Be … happy?
Happy?
You brushed a hand over your belly. Could it be possible you were growing life there at that very moment? Your child? Gaara’s child? You would be a mother? All of these casualties formed chaotic webs inside your mind, one string falling after the last. Your overactive brain flashed images of you and Gaara and children that looked like both of you. A family. A proper family …
Worry was replaced with rising elation, like a morning sun coming to bring clarity. What if you were pregnant? Wouldn’t it be a good thing? And the wedding … no one would ever know you had gotten pregnant before; in no way would you start showing before the time came.
Who would you tell? Who could you tell? Temari? Would she be upset with you?
You wished, more than anything, to have your mother.
She would know what to do. You felt a strange kinship with her suddenly; was this what it was like for her when she had discovered her pregnancy? Your mind went a mile a minute. You knew who you could tell.
Finally, you stepped out of the bathroom to see serving ladies and Chuuyou looking concerned.
“I’m fine, really!” You assured. Your mind was made up. “Chuuyou.”
“Yes, my lady?” his soothing voice hit your ear.
“I need to see my father.”
“Ahh, and if it isn’t my favorite daughter.”
Chuuyou stepped aside so you could enter your father’s room. The windows were drawn to let in the morning sun. Tendrils of steam curled into the air from his teacup. All of this was contradicted by him fanning himself on one of the couches.
“Hello, Father,” You greeted.
“Come, come.” He centered the tray on the table.”And to what do I owe this early meeting? I wasn’t expecting to see you for a few hours more.”
“Well, uh.” You watched your father’s hands dance around the tea. He poured you a cup and offered it to you. You accepted it with a tight smile. “I have something to tell you.”
Father sipped his tea. “I’m all ears.”
“Well …” You lowered your gaze to your mug, the steam heating your chin. “I woke up feeling sick this morning —“
“Oh, don’t tell me.” Father snapped his fan closed with a chuckle. “You inherited your weak stomach from your mother. Shame, shame. The woman was my entire world, but the poor thing could be so —“
“I think I may be pregnant.”
…
…
Breeze whipped the curtain hems with a howl. Chuuyou seemed to take in a sharp breath in the corner, unseen by you; You only had eyes for Father. He’d become a statue, facing you without seeing.
“Pregnant?” Father’s voice was hushed, low. “You’re sure?”
“We — well, I’m not entirely sure.” You twiddled your fingers. “I haven’t done any tests, but it’s a possibility …” You cleared your throat, lowering your gaze. “Highly possible. I was sick this morning, and I’ve never felt anything like that before. We can visit the infirmary together to be sure —“
“You stupid girl.”
You glanced up — hot tea seared your face.
You screamed, hands flying to your face as you doubled over to the sound of china shattering.
“Chuuyou!” Father roared, “close the curtains!”
You collapsed on the floor, still holding your face. Every part of your face burned, hot and horrible. You wailed. Curtains rustled. A hand seized the hem of your shirt to hoist you to your feet.
“Get up — GET UP — look at me!” Father snarled, shaking you.
You obeyed with a frightened whimper. Your blurred vision of Father struggled to focus in the darkness. “Father — father, please —!”
“What did I ever do for the gods to curse me with you?” he yanked you closer. “I’ve been as patient as possible, but this? I am so sick of your whorish ways!”
“Father, fath —!”
“Chuuyou told me everything about your filthy little tryst with the Kazekage in his greenhouse,” Father hissed, hot breath close to your face. “Why do you think I’m here —!?”
He tossed you. You were a fool to think the couch would meet you; your back collided with the hard ground. You stumbled, fumbling away on the wet floor on wobbling hands and feet as Father advanced.
“Did you think I would be overjoyed to see you married off to our greatest enemy? Stupid girl!” He picked up another tea cup and threw it at your head. You dodged with a shriek and it split apart at the wall.
You gasped, clutching at the wall. Something came to light in your head, wedged by the horror. The greenhouse … You glanced at Chuuyou. At the same moment, he met your eye.
You had been alone with Gaara in the greenhouse. But you were never alone, not really. And Baki had been assured by his own informants the two of you hadn’t been seen. But you had been seen. But not by Matsuri. By someone who was always watching, for you had your guardian, your supposed protector.
Your shadow.
“It was you …” You whispered. “You spread the word about the greenhouse …”
Chuuyou lowered his gaze. “Yes …”
“You told him!” You pointed to Father, a set of dominoes toppling in your mind. “You set up Matsuri!”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes,” he muttered. “Once I realized you were truly falling in love with the Kazekage, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I left your side at times I knew you wouldn’t notice or care, and assured there were two Matsuris when there should have been one. I had a clone of her visit a gossip columnist in the village. I knew it would cause a scandal.” He bowed his head. “And it did.”
You shook your head, the level of scheming overwhelming to wrap your head around. “How could you?”
And one of Gaara’s closest? His precious student, of all people? But, with a sickening feeling in your stomach unrelated to the fetus growing there, you began to understand: It would appear as though Gaara was a leader, a Kage, who did not have his house in order, who could not control those closest to him. An unstable house was one easy to topple. How he must have felt in the desert, when morning had come and Gaara was still alive.
“The Sand must be defeated, My Lady —“
“Do not call me that!” You shrieked. “You have no right to call me that!”
“This village is duplicitous, it is evil!” Chuuyou went on. “All the years of humiliation, of oppression ― it cannot be undone by something so cynical as a political marriage! They must pay for the pain they have caused us.”
“You helped to sully Gaara’s reputation to spread doubt in the council.” You felt you might retch again. “To strengthen the factions already against him.”
“His reputation has already been sullied. He is a monster — he was born on —“
“And my reputation, Chuuyou?” You murmured, your heart breaking even more than you thought it could, thought it capable. “What about mine?”
Chuuyou opened his eyes only to cast his gaze to the floor, shame keeping him from lifting his chin.
“You were supposed to protect me …” Rage and sorrow toiled inside you. And he failed both times.
You felt dirty and depraved, deprived. Chuuyou, the one person you felt you could always trust even if his shadowing had been bothersome at times. But then … What kind of fool were you? Chuuyou had been chosen by your father, after all. Anyone imposed by him should have raised your alarm, should have cast doubt within you.
“The opinion of those living in the Sand will cease to matter once I have instilled myself as their ruler,” Father said. You had not forgotten he was there. You could never forget. “I was really hoping you would surprise me,” Father’s voice was low as he glowered over you. “Everything I have taught you … I was hoping you had some sound reason for delaying your task. But instead you come to me, suspicious of carrying his child. You are so pathetically predictable.”
“So it was all lies,” You said. “All of it, from the moment you came.”
“My time here has been miserable,” Father hissed. “Having to watch you play house with that thing” — he threw his hand — “and his family. I am here for one reason and one only, and that is to take matters into my own hands.”
Your eyes widened at him. It was all beginning to make sense now. The letter — it had come after the greenhouse. Your father and his Cyclone. You had thought him simply paranoid, wanting his own protection.
That was not why.
You thought of the other Oasis ninja littered all over the palace — the entire village. Perfectly poised to act. All they needed was to be given word …
“So you’ve just been —“ You struggled to get words out. “Biding your time?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Father said. “It seems, despite my intentions, I have friends in this village.” His smile was cold. “Members of the council would like to see the Kazekage’s removal.”
A cold chill. Joseki. And only the gods knew who else. No. No …!
You weren’t quick enough — Father grabbed you again.
“I would hate to kill kin,” he said. “I am giving you not a mission, but a choice. Either you kill your beloved, or you can join your mother and brother in the afterlife.”
You stared at him. Tears ran down your face. “You wouldn’t,” You whispered hopelessly. “You wouldn’t.”
The madness had returned to your father’s eyes. Dread sank you; the madness had never left him.
“It would be a shame if I had to kill my unborn grandchild as well, a blight on our family that it is.”
He dropped you and you fell sloppily to the floor. You cradled your head as it throbbed. You cracked your eyes open, sobbing in the corner as Father left the room, and Chuuyou, his sorrowful gaze lingering on you, followed him.
You hated no one more than yourself.
You had no idea how long you laid on the floor, shattered dreams and china surrounding you. Darkness and quiet swallowed up the room. Spilled tea long cold wet the bottom of your sandals. Time blurred miserably, thick and colorless, and you inferred that it must’ve been hours. You had managed to pick yourself off the floor and skulk to the room that had once been yours. Chuuyou’s loss weighed your step where he would’ve trailed them. Locking the door behind you, you waited to collapse on the bed to collapse in every other way.
You screamed into a pillow, your tears wetting the fabric. You clenched fists into its plush, and you were sure you could rip it apart, powered by nothing but anguish.
Emotions had blinded you. You were so desperate to believe your father had changed his mind you had missed the truth: he only wanted to succeed where you had failed.
He was playing along. All this time … All the while working out sinister background details with Joseki and — horror rained down on you — others to take down Gaara. Had all those times at his bedside been a lie? You couldn’t quite believe it; Father’s joy had seemed so genuine, his laughter — when was the last time you’d heard him laugh? He’d been a different person, an echo of something long lost. The memories of all those mornings evoked a different ache in you, impelling you to touch a hand on your chest. I lost the father I never had. That’s why I feel the way I do.
Chuuyou (your shadow, what a joke) had, at some point, slipped away to frame Matsuri. What was her role in this? Beside your angst lay curiosity; a part of you wanted to go to her cell and ask her yourself.
But you couldn’t. There was no time. Angst. Curiosity. Alarm. You were possibly carrying Gaara’s child — and wouldn’t be for much longer, if you didn’t do something fast. You wiped your tears with the back of your arm, releasing a shuddering breath as you rose from bed.
There was only one card you had to play: you had to tell Gaara. Now.
You picked yourself up from your self-hate, composed yourself, and left the room for the one you shared with Gaara. He had to be there by now; it was late afternoon. The last time you had turned your head to the sky, it had been periwinkle. Your head had swelled with dreams. You hadn’t wanted to die.
You lugged yourself around, giving idle hellos to maids and servants who greeted you, working past hallways now familiar to you until you made it to the bedroom door and entered.
“Gaara …!” You were relieved.
Gaara sat at the bed’s edge, one leg swung over the other. Unharmed. He raised his head to smile at you. “(Y/n). Hello. I was just waiting for you.”
You brought him into a hug. “Thank the gods …” You whispered into his sleeve.
You felt his hand still at the small of your back. “(Y/n) … There have been some issues.”
You pulled back to stare inquisitively up at him. Carefully, you asked, “What do you mean? … What types of issues?”
Gaara cast his gaze low. “Would you be opposed to remaining only in the palace?”
“Gaara.” Your brows furrowed. “What’s going on?”
Gaara still averted your gaze. “I hate asking this of you — you’ve been so sequestered already — but … There are anti-Kazekage sentiments brewing across the village.”
“Anti-Kazekage …” You trailed. Did this have to do with the greenhouse? Or your father? Or both? “Gaara, oh no … I’m sorry …”
“Don’t be,” Gaara said. “It’s as I told you: not all have come to accept me. And as there has been a significant uptick in drama lately, it was to be expected. I highly doubt it will leak to the entire village. I’ll deal with it.” He glanced up at you at last. “But I fear for your safety, especially after what took place at the beach …” He stopped, invisible brows furrowed as he appraised you. “Is something the matter?”
“Yes.” There was no point sugarcoating. This was it. You couldn’t be a coward anymore. Do the right thing for once. For your husband. For the baby. “My —“
But your tongue refused to work; it lay limp in your mouth. Your lips parted, but only breath escaped. Sound, no words.
Gaara took your hand. “Take your time. That is what Temari would always tell me when I had trouble speaking as a child.” He paused. “As a young child.”
“I’m all right,” You said, creating some distance between the two of you. “I’m — okay, really! It’s just, my —“ Again, your tongue froze. Your lips closed against your will, refusing to help you impart speech. You tried to force words out — only to remain hopelessly tongue tied. You closed your eyes with a sinking realization.
Your heart ramped. Panic set in. Oh, no. Oh no oh no.
Father’s done something to me. I can’t say it! I can hardly think !
“Are you okay?”
“Gaara …” Fear shallowed your breath. It gripped you like a child hiding from the dark, and you wished you had a teddy to hug. I’m so scared. What should I do?
“(Y/n).” Gaara’s voice was firm now.
You closed your eyes, bringing Gaara close. “No.” You shook your head. “I — I just …” You fought tears. You couldn’t tell the truth, and now you truly couldn’t. I can’t tell him — I literally can’t tell him. “I just can’t stay inside anymore! I feel so claustrophobic, but — but I always seem to be causing trouble for you … That shouldn’t be the case for someone you love.”
“No.” Gaara caressed your cheek. “If anything, I cause trouble for you.” And with all the authority of a Kage, he said, “I will address this. I’m sorry, truly, but it will only be for a few more days. No longer.”
Like you cared about living or being anywhere besides the Sand palace. Like you wouldn’t want to burrow into it and stay forever. Wordlessly, you brought him into a hug. You wanted to burrow inside him, hide in your fiancée, the only place you felt safe. Even if he couldn’t save you.
“If anything, I cause trouble for you,” Gaara said. He stroked the nape of your neck, his voice as gentle as autumn rain. “Forgive me.”
You pinched at his sleeve, a cue for him to comfort you more, and, miraculously, Gaara obliged, running a hand over your arm.
“You … could never cause trouble for me.”
“Do you think (Y/n) has been acting strangely lately?” Gaara asked.
His siblings lounged around the sitting room, accompanied by Baki. Despite the demands of their respective duties, some days were slower than others. Gaara lived for these days where he could enjoy the company of his family and friends, and he enjoyed it now, even with his concern for you.
At his inquiry, Temari stopped fanning herself. “Hm?” “I haven’t noticed anything. Though … I haven’t seen much of Lord Boutoku lately. Oh.” She sighed and rested her chin on her palm. “I hope the council’s not crowding him too much. Did you hear Ryusa kept him out all day yesterday?”
“Serves him right,” Kankuro grumbled. “Geezers. All of them. He’s got some nerve, always retiring to his room because he’s tired — like he doesn’t have servants waiting on him hand and foot.”
“I’ve heard about people having …” Gaara fought the anxiety inside of him as he reached for the term, “cold feet …”
“Certainly not, Lord Kazekage,” Baki said. “You must understand: women are mysterious creatures. They need a great deal of time to themselves.”
“I second that,” Temari said. “It’s a surprise you’re not married, Baki.”
Baki gave her a flat look. “Oh, is it?”
“Gaara,” she said, ignoring Baki, “I’m sure she’s fine. Don’t worry.”
“Yeah, I’ll go check on her for you,” Kankuro said.
Gaara frowned. “But …”
Kankuro placed a hand on Gaara’s shoulder on his way out. “Big brother will take care of it. Don’t worry.”
Gaara appreciated the levity, and after a second or two nodded.
“Thank you, Kankuro.”
Kankuro made it to Gaara’s quarters. He could hear the trickle of shower water. The bed was perfectly made, along with the rest of the room. Not a hair out of place — beside your necklace on the bedside table.
Kankuro sighed. Worried about nothing, as always, Gaara. The necklace’s disk caught in the lamplight. Curiosity tugged at him. He approached the necklace. He remembered the pomp-and-circumstance that came along with Lord Boutoku bestowing it on you. The whole thing was cheesy, but … sweet. He knew how much you loved the thing, were never seen without it. Maybe the old man wasn’t so bad. Crazy, but not bad.
Kankuro grazed the necklace’s face — he misjudged it, though, and it clanked to the floor.
“Woops.” He knelt down to retrieve it, only to see its disk had cracked open.
His eyes widened. “Oh no,” he hissed. “No!”
Kankuro, what the fuck did you —?
Glistening black caught his eye. The necklace had broken apart at its center like a metaphorical heart, allowing something to … seep from it.
Something was inside the necklace.
He leaned forward to further inspect it.
Your hands ran absentmindedly over your body. The hot water did nothing to change the corpse-cold temperature of your skin. With numb fingers, you shut the water off, your hair dripping over the valve.
You felt othered from your own body, trapped in it with no choices, no resolution. The clock ticked imminently to doomsday in your mind. When would Father attack? Would he make you watch it as punishment?
I hope he kills me first. I do not want to see what he does next.
You palmed your stomach and imagined the fetus occupying your womb. The only thing anchoring you from life, and you had even failed this life before it was even born.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Only a few days ago, you were reeling at the prospect of marrying Gaara, only sooner you were imagining starting a family. What a risible delusion. What a farce.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
You left the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself. A new set of dry clothes lay folded for you, and after drying off, you dressed. Fresh clothes. Soft. Flowery-scented shampoo, soap. The warmth of the clothes failed to penetrate your skin, much like the shower water had. You felt carved, rounded out and empty, like a shell whose creature had long since slithered away.
You reached for your necklace — it was gone.
What? Your reverie cleared enough for you to ponder. Had you misplaced it? Remembering one moment from another had become a struggle. What had you done with it?
Unless it was taken?
Your eyes widened. Panic shattered the reverie completely. What if Father had taken it, or had someone do it?
You exited the room, head swinging either way. Where would you look? The only place that came to mind was the sitting room. You headed there, descended the stairs to the last floor —
“Has anyone seen my —?”
Gaara was there, waiting for you. And Temari and Kankuro. And Baki. And a dozen other sand ninja.
You froze on the stairs.
Kankuro, blank-faced, lifted his hand: your necklace chain roped around his fingers and hung there. “Looking for something?” He turned half of the necklace’s broken face and the poison dripped blood-black dots onto the floor.
Your body, flushed from running, ran corpse-cold again. “I …”
“(Y/n) …” Gaara said. “What is this?”
Your throat was too constricted to help form words. A thousand knives seemed to hold you in place.
“An incredibly powerful agent, I’d say,” Kankuro finished for him in a detached, clinical voice, though nothing could conceal the cold fury underneath. “Extracted from the Red Spine plant. Grows from her side of the desert. I’ve even read about it … You would’ve been dead in seconds, Gaara.”
You shook your head wildly. “No, Gaara, Kankuro — I can explain …!”
“So that’s why Boutoku’s here,” Temari said under her breath. You could see the whites of her knuckles from where you stood. Shadows shrouded her eyes before she fixed you with a murderous glare. “You planned to poison him.”
There was no air in your lungs. “No … no …. Wait, I — please —“
“This whole time …” Kankuro’s anger simmered under his breath, barely held back. “It’s all been a ruse. You were waiting for us to let our guards down —“
“No!”
“I knew something was off!” Temari roared, a hysterical edge to her voice now. “I knew something was wrong! This whole time — and when you woke up in the infirmary and flipped out about the necklace being gone! You thought we’d found out!”
Tears were streaming down your face now. You tried to move your mouth helplessly to reveal the truth, but no words were forthcoming. As Father designed, your tongue rolled and failed you.
It doesn’t matter. I knew. I agreed to all of this. All of it.
“There must be some explanation.” Gaara’s voice was measured, but even you could detect the hint of desperation in his tone. “A misunderstanding …?”
You kept moving your mouth, but you were sure you only appeared stammering and pathetic, grasping at straws to craft into lies. Your legs failed; you slumped to a step. You caught Baki’s eye, quietly pleading, but disappointment seemed to keep him silent.
“There isn’t, Gaara.” Kankuro took a step. You’d never seen him look so imposing; his face paint rendered him monstrous. “She’s been wearing that fucking thing since she got here, since I brought her to you —!”
Kankuro threw the necklace, emptied of its contents, into your face. You yelped, catching it with trembling hands. Temari’s
hands shook, aching, probably, for a weapon to strike you with.
“You snake!” Kankuro hissed. “After everything —!”
“Gaara …” You looked up — and your heart fell to pieces.
Gaara was a stone, but his eyes were lined with moisture. You had brought him to near tears.
You had done this.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Baki asked. “If you’ve anything at all to say.”
“Please, Gaara …” You were crawling away from the stairs now, toward them. “Please, please …”
Save me.
Gaara turned away from you. His expression was cold.
“Take her.”
“No!” You screamed as ninja advanced to grab you. You kicked as you were hoisted to your feet. “No, you can’t, Gaara!” You were being thrust through the threshold when your voice ripped from your throat: “I’M PREGNANT!”
The shinobi paused, turned to Gaara for guidance.
Gaara searched your eyes, his expression reserved in his desperation for this to be true.
“Please,” You sobbed. “It’s true … You can’t do this. You know it’s possible.”
He turned around, this time his back to you. “She’ll be given a test to confirm whether this is true. We can no longer take her on her word. We’re done here … Take her.”
You sobbed miserably as you were dragged away. Temari and Kankuro’s words filtered through your awareness, but nothing registered.
“Matsuri needs to be released, we need to go get her —“
“We have to deal with Boutoku now!”
“I can’t believe this —“
But it all fell away as you lolled your head to the side. Brutal daylight hit your face as you were dragged from the palace’s entrance, and through blurry eyes, you watched the place that had become your home grow farther away. Nothing but a dream.
#gaara x reader#gaara x you#gaara x y/n#gaara smut#naruto x reader#naruto x y/n#naruto x you#naruto smut#my work
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Father-Daughter Dance
Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x daughter!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw
Word count - 3,316
Warnings - angst, brief mention of potentially being injured, sad hours, swearing, fluff
Summary - your plans for the father-daughter dance were disrupted by unforeseen circumstances, only you have an uncle who would do anything for you
A/N - hey y'all sorry it's been a hot minute but it's time for a new part of Hangman junior. I'm sorry I'm not producing fics as much as I used to, I'm doing my best. I won't ramble, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!
When your school got the idea to host a father-daughter dance in a few months' time, you didn’t plan on telling your dad about it. You didn’t see much point in going, you figured neither your dad nor Bradley would want to go to anything like that. You stuffed the leaflet in your bag before you left school and intended to leave it there. When you got home, you went into the kitchen, shocked to see your dad and Bradley already home.
“Hey, y/n/n.” Bradley greets you with a smile as he crosses to give you a hug while Jake grins at you from where he was leant against the counter with a coffee in hand.
“Hi, I wasn’t expecting to see you guys home so early.” You say, shrugging your bag off your shoulder and placing it on the chair by the kitchen table as Jake crossed to you, hugging you quickly before placing a kiss to the top of your head.
“Mav let us off early. We finished training earlier than expected and since the new recruits don’t start until Monday, Mav gave us an early start to the weekend.” Jake says as you begin searching in your bag for your homework since you wanted to ask Bradley and Jake for some help. As you pulled out your notebook, the leaflet came out with the book and fluttered to the floor. Jake bent down to pick it up almost the second it hit the floor despite your insistence that you’d pick it up.
“Your school’s doing a father-daughter dance?” Jake asks, a raised eyebrow as he looks from the piece of paper to you.
“Yeah… I figured you guys would be too busy to go or wouldn’t want to go so I wasn’t planning on going or anything.” You shrug, opening your notebook and flipping through it to find the question you didn’t understand.
“Hey, we’d love to go with you. If you can deal with your dad’s potentially embarrassing you.” Jake says, grinning as you roll your eyes and shake your head.
“You wouldn’t even have to go with both of us. If you just want to go with your dad, I won’t be offended by it.” Bradley softly offers, making you turn to look at him, almost offended by his words.
“I’m going with both of you or I’m not going at all.” You insist, glancing from Bradley to Jake who soften at your words before they both encase you in a hug.
“Then we’ll all go.” Jake mumbles softly, getting a hum of agreement from you and Bradley before they both pull away.
“Now will you help me with this homework?” You ask, getting a laugh from both of the men.
A couple of weeks after Jake and Bradley agreed to go to the father-daughter dance with you, Jake and Bradley received news that they’d be sent on a short deployment. They did extensive checks on the date they shipped out and when they’d return, double-checking with Maverick and triple checking with Cyclone that the mission would be simple enough to finish within a couple of weeks so that they’d make it back before the date of your dance. With their confidence intact, they packed their stuff and headed to the dock to board the carrier with you and Javy waving them off amongst other families. During the first week of their deployment, you got occasional emails from Jake and Bradley keeping you updated on how their deployment was going, as well as letting you know just how much they missed you. However, a few days into the second week of their deployment, Javy received a video call from them while the two of you were lounging around in the living room.
“Hey, guys.” Javy said with a grin as he sat up, standing his phone up against a glass so Jake and Bradley could see both you and Javy.
“Hey, dad. Hey, Bradley.” You greet, your smile widening at being able to see your dad’s, albeit through a screen. The two smiled up on seeing you but you noticed that their smiles didn’t quite reach their eyes.
“Hey, Javy. Hey, sweetheart.” Jake says, glancing from the screen to Bradley.
“Are you being good for Coyote?” Bradley asks, a slight chuckle tagged on to the end of his sentence as you and Javy exchange a mock offended look.
“Are you suggesting my niece is anything but an angel when she stays with me?” Javy asks, hand on his heart as he dramatically pretends to faint. You laughed at Javy’s actions while your dad and Bradley couldn’t muster up much more than a light chuckle.
“Is everything okay, dad?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing at the thoughts that run through your head. You knew Payback and Fanboy had gone on the deployment with them, so you were immediately worried that something had happened to them.
“Are Payback and Fanboy, okay?” You then ask, your eyes filling with worry.
“They’re okay y/n/n. We’re all okay.” Bradley assures, giving you a reassuring smile before your dad clears his throat nervously.
“y/n, we’ve had some delays in the mission. We had some pretty shit weather recently, so we’ve been unable to fly because of it. They’re extending the deployment and I don’t think we’ll make it back in time for the dance. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Jake says gently, fighting the urge to get his F-18 up on the catapult and fly back to San Diego himself when he saw the light in your eyes dim as you process his words. Remaining silent, you nod stoically, slapping a smile on.
“That’s okay. You can’t help these things.” You say softly, fighting to keep your smile from faltering.
“y/n…” Bradley starts, trying to find the right words to comfort you when you stand up suddenly.
“I just remembered I have some homework to finish. I gotta go. Love you.” You say hurriedly when you feel your resolve crumbling by the second, darting upstairs and ignoring the calls of both your dad’s and Javy as you go.
“I’ll check on her.” Javy says instantly, moving to stand up but stopping when Jake and Bradley call out to him.
“No, leave her. She needs a minute. Check up on her before you go to bed.” Jake says, knowing that you need some time alone to process the news.
“Is there really no way you’ll make it back in time?” Javy asks quietly, his gaze drifting to the stairs.
“The weather has been so bad Coyote. There’s a very slim chance we make it back in time because of these delays.” Bradley says, his heart breaking as he replays your face falling in his head. Javy nods minutely at Bradley’s words, silently cursing the weather for the upset it’s caused you.
“Javy, make sure she doesn’t isolate herself. She might not want to go to the dance anymore and I can’t blame her. But just make sure she’s not hiding away.” Jake requests, his worried gaze meeting that of Javy’s who nods diligently. Just before another word can be spoken, Bradley glances down at his watch and nudges Jake, letting him know that it’s almost time for them to head to their brief.
“We have to go. Keep us updated, okay?” Bradley says, both men standing up, bidding Javy goodbye before the call is ended. Turning his phone off, Javy sighs as he leans back against the sofa cushions. He felt awful for you, you’d told him that you initially had no intentions to go, and you agreed to go because both Jake and Bradley said they’d go with you. You had been excitedly looking up dresses and not long bought one that arrived the other day. Unable to sit swelling in his thoughts, Javy pushes himself up from the sofa and heads up to the guest room in his house that usually became your room while your dads were away.
“y/n/n, can I come in?” Javy asks tentatively, knocking on the door softly and waiting to receive permission to enter. When he receives a light mumble in response, he pushes the door open gently, entering the room and perching on the edge of your bed, near the mound in the duvet he knew was you.
“What’s up, Kit-Kat?” Javy asks, a small smile gracing his face when he heard your soft snort at the nickname.
“It was one time.” You mumble, making Javy let out a soft laugh at the memory. He had been babysitting you when you were about five while Jake went to the gym, and you’d somehow broken into the packet of Kit-Kats that were stashed away and got through almost half the packet before Javy had even realised you had snuck off to the kitchen.
“One time is enough to earn a nickname for life, kiddo.” Javy chuckles as your head pokes out from underneath your duvet, your tear-stained cheeks immediately sobering him up and reminding him of what had transpired.
“You wanna talk about it?” Javy then says, his eyes soft as he watches you shuffle to sit up slightly. You hesitate at first, debating on whether to open up or not.
“I know I shouldn’t be upset. It’s not their fault that the weather is unpredictable.” You shrug, downplaying how you’re feeling so Javy doesn’t worry, which was already much too late, he was in mother hen mode.
“It’s okay to be upset. I know you were looking forward to this.” Javy says softly, watching as you shake your head lightly.
“I was only looking forward to it because I was going with my family. I don’t think it would work out as well if I went alone.” You mumble, a few more tears welling in your eyes, giving away how upset you were.
“I could go with you.” Javy suggests, shrugging lightly as the idea comes into his head.
“What?” You question, wondering if you heard him right.
“I know I’m not your dad, and I’m not Bradley either. But I’d be a shitty uncle if I sat around and let you miss out on something like this. I know you bought a dress and everything so I’m more than willing to go with you to this. I even bet I won’t be the only uncle there.” Javy says, watching as you silently debate his words before burrowing into his side for a hug, taking him aback slightly, recovering quickly so he could return the hug.
“You really want to go with me? Did dad put you up to it?” You ask, your voice muffled by the material of Javy’s shirt but yet was still audible to him as he fights back the temptation to gasp in offense at your question.
“Your dad did not put me up to this, this was my idea. Scouts honour, kid. I don’t think you should miss out on a chance to hang out with your friends and have some fun. But it’s up to you, if you don’t want to go, I’m not going to force you.” Javy says softly, squeezing you lightly as you look up at him.
“I’ll go. But only if you promise to take pictures for my dad’s.” You say, a small smile on your face as Javy nods.
“Whatever you say Kit-Kat.”
When the day of the dance had arrived, you had headed back to Javy’s house after school to get ready for the dance and Javy arrived not long after you, getting into one of his suits after showering. He had emailed Jake and Bradley after you had agreed to still attend with him and let them know about the new plan and they were in full support, happy you were still attending. In the last couple of days, they had also said that the weather had cleared up, so they guessed they’d be home soon, although they still figured they wouldn’t make it back in time for the dance.
When you changed into your dress, you headed downstairs to meet with Javy who couldn’t stop the smile crossing his face. He had seen you grow up from a baby to the beautiful teenager you were today. He understood why Jake gushed about you in the way that he did, you were the closest thing Javy had to a kid of his own and every time he saw you, Jake and Bradley he knew he couldn’t wait for the day he had a kid of his own.
“You look beautiful y/n/n.” Javy says softly, giving you a hug once you reach him.
“Thank you, Uncle Javy. You scrub up well too.” You giggle as Javy scoffs with a soft laugh. Javy then takes some photos of you and then the two of you take some silly selfies as well before heading to your school for the dance. You enter the gym that had been decorated beautifully and Javy wastes no time in dragging you to the dancefloor, making you laugh at your uncle’s antics, more than used to them at this point. As you dance, you think about how glad you are that you took Javy up on his offer to go in place of your parents because you were having so much fun. You got to say hi to your friends and their dads and uncles and most of them made a point to pull you aside and whisper to you about how attractive they found Javy which got a laugh out of you. You expected that to happen, especially since Javy was on the younger side compared to the gym filled with mostly middle-aged men. After a bunch of upbeat songs, a slow song comes on and Javy wastes no time in tugging you into his arms, slow dancing with you as every other dad and uncle present does the same with their child.
“Thank you for offering to go with me. I love you Uncle Javy.” You whisper near the end of the song as Javy presses a quick kiss to the top of your head.
“No need to thank me Kit-Kat. It was my pleasure.” Javy replies, looking up briefly and faltering in his actions when he catches sight of two familiar figures entering the gym, both checking each other’s ties before turning and surveying the gym.
“Are you okay?” You ask, pulling away slightly to look up at your uncle who is grinning wildly.
“You might want to turn around.” He says, releasing you and watching as you turn around. At first, you look around, confused about what Javy was talking about until you catch sight of who Javy was referencing and immediately go rushing over to the two.
“Dad! Bradley!” You cry out, immediately flying into your dad’s arms as he reciprocates the hug, and you waste no time in pulling Bradley into the hug too as you fight back tears.
“I thought you wouldn’t make it.” You whisper, clinging to both men as they squeeze you lightly.
“The weather turned out to work in our favour, we had such clear weather we made it home earlier than expected. I’m sorry we’re late baby girl.” Jake whispers, clinging just that little bit tighter to you.
“Don’t apologise, it wasn’t your fault.” You reply, finally pulling away from the embrace and smiling up at them as Jake gently swipes some of your tears away with his thumb.
“May I say you look absolutely beautiful in that dress, y/n?” Bradley says, smiling softly down at you as you thank him quietly. The three of you cross to Javy joining him in the middle of the dance floor and continuing to dance. As you glanced around the gym you noticed a couple of girls sat around the edge of the gym, not joining in with the dancing and watching everyone else with sad expressions. You figured they had come despite not having a prevalent father figure in their life and your heart broke for them so you grabbed the attention of your dads and Javy and whispered something to the three before crossing to the stragglers.
“Hey guys, I noticed you guys looked a little lonely over here. Both my dad’s and uncle are here, and we figured we’d extend an offer for you to join us. You don’t have to I just didn’t want you guys to be alone.” You offer, giving them a kind smile and patiently waiting for their response. You were expecting to be shooed away, and you felt like you may have been overstepping people’s boundaries when it came to a subject that could be as sensitive as family, but the girls smiled gratefully and took you up on your offer. You led them over to your dad’s and Javy and allowed them to introduce themselves. Most of the girls were in the grade below you, so you didn’t know them that well, but you had definitely seen them around school before. You all danced along to the music and sang loudly as you did so, eventually attracting the attention of other groups of people who joined in your cluster. Before you knew it, a large number of those who had come to the dance were dancing with you and your family, everyone laughing and smiling. When the dance ended, the girls you invited to join you trapped you in a tight hug and thanked you quietly for making their night better as you hugged them back as tight as you could, insisting it was the least you could do. You then follow your dad’s and Javy out to the car park and quickly find the Bronco and Javy’s car.
“You head home with your dad’s, y/n/n. You can collect your stuff in the morning.” Javy says, bringing you into a hug which you instantly reciprocate.
“Okay. Thank you again, Uncle Javy. For everything.” You say, cuddling as close as humanly possible as he presses a kiss atop your head.
“No need to thank me, it’s part of my job as your uncle. Have a good night.” Javy says, bidding you and your dad’s goodbye before getting into his car and driving off as you, Jake and Bradley get into the Bronco and begin the drive home. When you reach home, you were more than ready to curl up in your bed and go to sleep and you could tell that your dads were in a similar boat. The three of you enter the house, remove your shoes and head up the stairs to your rooms to get ready for bed. By the time you had crawled under your duvet, Jake, and Bradley, knock on the door and ask for permission to come in and cross to your bedside. You bring them into another hug, grateful they made it back to you.
“I’m so glad you’re back.” You whisper, burying your face in Jake’s shoulder as Bradley runs a comforting hand up and down your back.
“We’re glad too, sweetheart.” Bradley says, pressing a kiss to your temple before both men pull away as a yawn spills past your lips.
“We’ll let you sleep now. We love you so much, my sweet girl.” Jake says, pressing a bunch of quick kisses to the top of your head, eliciting a small giggle from you.
“Love you guys too.” You reply, lying down and burrowing under the duvet as Jake and Bradley cross to the door, whispering one last goodnight before switching your light off and returning to their room as you allow your tired eyes to close, both relieved that your dads are home safe and sound, and grateful for your Uncle Javy who without hesitation offered to take you to the dance. The last thought that crosses your mind before you drop off to sleep is how lucky you are to have the best family in the world.
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same mistakes pt. i (bradley “rooster” bradshaw)
a/n: @roosterbrdshaw made a post about a enemies-to-lovers, maverick’s daughter fic and this was born. i rewatched the movie last weekend and got a new idea, so i scrapped everything i had already written and started over. and then... it got out of hand.... so i’m breaking it up into a least three parts. uhm, kylie, write a slow-burn??? where are we??
title comes from one direction’s “same mistakes” don’t come for me
summary: (enemies-to-lovers, maverick’s daughter!reader) you and Bradley used to be best friends. key word: used to. as in, over, in the past, never gonna happen again. the sight of the pilot makes your skin crawl, disgust and anger curdling in your stomach. it definitely has nothing to do with the unspoken feelings leftover from your teen years. not at all. furthermore, being put together on a suicide mission is not your idea of a good time. no matter what, you and Rooster seemed to be doomed to make the same mistakes over and over again.
callsign: rebel
main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | pt. ii | pt. iii
warnings: my shitty military knowledge, i swore, no the movie didn’t tell us what squadron Coyote originally flew with so i made it up, I am actually from San Diego so some of my personal experience is filtered in here sue me, okay really it’s just my love of burritos, i don’t know jackshit about flying a plane and it’s obvious, i tweaked some of the movie dialogue for plot reasons, justice for Coyote, Maverick’s a supportive Dad no matter how much his daughter fucks up (this will become apparent in the upcoming parts but we get hints here and there in this part)
word count: 5,126
Maverick took a deep breath, eyes flitting over the board of twelve students recalled for this special mission. “Is there a problem, Captain?” Cyclone’s voice called.
“You know there is.”
-
You walked into the Hard Deck behind Coyote, welcoming the familiar sounds of music and patrons talking amongst themselves at the bar. You breathed in a comfortable sigh, Coyote looking at you with a smirk. “Good to be home.” You said, seeing your Dad sat at the bar talking to Penny. Coyote laughed, moving towards the back where a tall, handsome blond was sat next to the pool table.
“You spend twelve weeks here for TOPGUN training and suddenly this is home?”
“Born and raised here, baby.” You said, pushing your trademark aviators to sit atop your head. You waved to your Dad as you followed behind Coyote. Penny turned, seeing you and giving you her signature smirk with a wave of her fingers. You weren’t sure what your Dad was doing back in Fightertown but you had a suspicion he’d gone and pissed off the Admiral overseeing his project in the Mojave Desert. The blond shot up out of his seat, pulling Coyote over into a hug.
“Machado, man, what’re you doing out here?”
“Got re-called from the Green Vipers for a special mission. You?”
“Same thing. Wondering what kind of mission they’re asking us to fly for. Who's your friend?” Coyote opened his mouth, presumably to introduce you when the man’s attention shifted to a group of three nearing the table. Your eyes locked on a tall man sitting in the corner, who was quietly observing and eating peanuts. You lifted a hand from where your arms were crossed to wave at him and he gave you a shy smile back, waving in return.
“Fellows, this here’s Bagman.” You hear the woman say, attention shifting back to the group.
“Hangman.” The blond said, shooting the girl a bright smile. Her eyes locked over towards you, clearly getting ready to ask about you. You noted her pin said Trace and you realized who were standing in front of. Few pilots made names for themselves like Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, so yeah, you’d heard of her.
“Whatever.”
“Who's your friends?”
“Payback.”
“Fanboy.” Hangman’s eyes slid over to a brunette approaching to the table and you could’ve vomited at the sight of him. Of all the goddamn pilots...
“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.” Rooster took off his aviators, squinting at the sight of you next to Hangman.
“Hangman.” He responded, giving the man a curt nod. “Rebel.”
“Rooster.” You responded, and the table’s interest piqued.
“Two of you know each other?” Phoenix asked.
“Our old man’s used to fly together. Let’s just say that I’m not a fan.”
“Coincidentally, neither am I.” He sneered at you in response and you returned the look.
“Your old man a pilot, Rebel? I didn’t know that.” Coyote said, turning to you. You shrugged.
“There’s lots you don’t know about me, Machado. I’m a woman full of secrets.” You taunted, a sly smile on your face. Coyote opened his mouth to respond but then the bell rang as the bar went up in cheers and you looked over to see your Dad groaning. Typical Maverick. Hangman turned towards the bar to get another round and Coyote looked down at you with a questioning look. As Phoenix talked to Rooster, you leaned over as Coyote whispered in your ear.
“The hell was that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Look, there’s Yale, Harvard, Omaha, Fritz, even Halo. What kind of hell mission is this?” Someone asked as you pulled away from Coyote shrugging.
“That’s not the question. Everyone here is the best of the best. The question we should be asking is who the hell are they going to get to teach us?” Phoenix responded. Your eyes flickered over to your Dad who was still chatting with Penny. Nobody better than Maverick...
The bell rang again, pulling your from your thoughts. The bar began to chant “overboard, overboard” as Coyote and Hangman moved towards the bar. Towards your Dad specifically. You rolled your eyes, smiling as they picked him up. He winked at you as he was not-so-gracefully tossed out of the bar by the pair. The bar cheered again as notes on the piano began to play. Your stomach soured as you realized who was singing. You caught a glimpse of your Dad outside the bar, stone-faced. You looked over at Coyote, who was staring at you long before you made eye contact. As the bar sang along to Rooster’s song, you screwed your eyes shut and willed yourself to not think of old memories that were better off locked deep down. Fuzzy memories of growing up with Goose and Maverick singing to you both at the piano. Memories of Rooster singing around the house as Carole made him clean, long before Rooster was Rooster and was only just Bradley. Memories of Bradley teaching you how to play piano when you were 13. Memories of Bradley singing softly the night your heart had got broken for the first time when you were 16. Memories of yelling to ABBA in the car on summer road trips as a teen with him.
As the bar began to chant Rooster’s name, you bit down the nausea that was surfacing. You wanted out. As the group that had surrounded the piano moved their way back towards the pool table, you pulled out your phone, shooting your Dad a quick text, asking if he wanted to get burritos and catch up. You bit your lip as he typed back, confirming he’d get them and meet you at the house. You shut the phone and looked up, making brief eye contact with Bradley. You sighed, rolled back your shoulders, and told yourself to shake it off.
“Alright, I’m headed out.” You said, slipping the phone into your jacket pocket.
“We just got here like two hours ago. Why do you want to go back to base already?” You rolled your eyes and laughed at Coyote, walking away from him backwards.
“Back to base? No, no, me live here. Me go get dinner and then me go sleep in my own bed.” You said, mocking Coyote. Not that base, or even temporary, housing from the military was bad but getting to sleep in your own space was a comfort and privilege one was not often allotted in this line of work. He flipped you off as you cackled, pushing your way through Phoenix and Rooster. The brief contact with him made your skin burn and you tried not think about it too much. You waved goodbye to Penny as you called an Uber back to your place. Your car lived at the house, with one of your neighbors taking it out every once in a while to make sure it didn’t die. The place was technically your Dad’s but with him being gone so often, it had sort of, unofficially, kind of become yours. You thanked the woman who dropped you off as you noted your Dad’s motorcycle was already sitting out front. You unlocked the door, peeking your head around. “Dad?” You called, kicking off your shoes.
“Kitchen.” You heard and you moved towards there. He must’ve just gotten back, with the way the burritos weren’t even out of the bag yet. He smiled at you, pulling you into a hug the moment you entered the small kitchen. “Mmm, it’s good to see you kiddo.” He said, pulling away. You laughed as you opened the fridge and got out two beers.
“You too, Dad.” He pulled the burritos out and sat at the table and you exchanged your respective goods. “So, what Admiral did you piss off now?” You asked as you popped the cap on your beer. He chuckled.
“Cain.”
“The old one?” You asked, wrinkling your nose.
“Sweetie, they’re all old. I’m old.” You shrugged.
“Whatever.”
“So who was the kid you were with today?”
“Coyote? He’s my wingman back at the Green Vipers. You wouldn’t happen to know what we got recalled for, do you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes slightly. Your Dad sighed and took a well-timed sip of his beer.
“You’ll find out tomorrow.” You sighed, leaning back in your chair.
“It was weird to see Rooster today.” Your Dad nodded, clearing his throat.
“Yeah.” He agreed quietly. “The two of you still not talking?”
“You’d know it if we were.” He sighed.
“Hate that the two of you are like this now. You guys used to be such good friends. I mean, maybe even more...” He prompted, a teasing smile on his face. You groaned.
“That’s gross, I never had a thing for Bradley.”
“Mhmm.” He responded, taking another bite of his food with that all-knowing grin. You tossed your beer cap at him.
“Stop, I didn’t!” He chuckled as you pouted. “Even if I did, it wouldn't matter now.” He sighed.
“I know.” A solemn air took over the room. It was times like this that made you miss the little happy family you’d before Carole had died and Rooster had cut you off. You sighed.
“I miss Carole.”
“I miss her too.” Your Dads respond, looking at the counter, clearly somewhere far away. A silence passed between the two of you, which was finally broken by your Dad, as he seemed to return to the present. “So, Coyote, huh? Anything going on there that I should know about?”
“Dad, no.” He laughed as you stuck out your tongue.
“Hey, I’m just saying. I’m getting old, I want grandkids sooner rather than later.”
“Dad!”
-
You zipped up your jacket as you made your way to the classroom, greeting an awaiting Coyote, and unfortunately, an awaiting Hangman. You rolled your eyes as you pushed past him, heading towards the classroom. You pushed the classroom door open, where Bradley was sat at the front. Payback, Phoenix, Fanboy, and the tall man from last night, whose name you noted as Bob from his patch, were stood in pairs on either side of the aisle. “C’mon, you’ve known me for less than 24 hours, how can you hate me already Rebel?” Hangman asked from behind you.
“I don’t have to know you for any longer to know that you’re a pilot who thinks they’re better than they are, and have an obnoxious ego the size of Texas.” You snarked back. TOPGUN pilots like Hangman were a dime a dozen. Cocky, arrogant, competitive, assholes.
“C’mon, Rebel. Hangman’s rough around the edges but he’s solid once you get to know him.” Coyote defends, slapping his friend on the back. Phoenix barked out a laugh as the three of you stopped in front of them.
“Yeah, no, don’t take Coyote’s word for it Rebel. Hangman’s not someone you want to get stuck with as your wingman.”
“Harsh, Nix. I’m the best wingman there is.” You laughed, not missing the way Rooster’s head turned at the sound.
“No, Bagman, I think that’s me.” Phoenix snickered at your response. “But quite frankly, if I had a choice I wouldn’t pick any one of you to be my wingman with the exception of Coyote.” He fist-bumped you as Payback groaned.
“C’mon now, that’s no way to make friends.” Payback stated and you rolled your eyes, moving towards the empty seat next to Rooster.
“Respectfully, I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to fly a mission.”
“Touche.” Phoenix responded from behind you as you slid easily into the seat next to Rooster. He looked at you briefly and then looked away. You heard the sound of the classroom door opening somewhere from behind you as you settled in.
“Bradshaw.”
“Mitchell.”
“That hasn’t been my last name in a long time and you know it.” Mitchell never had been your last name to start with. Your Mom’s maiden name was on the birth certificate despite the fact that she’d taken off not long before Goose died. Your Mom and Maverick were never married either, so there was no reason for Mitchell to be your last name legally. Still, most people knew you as Pete Mitchell’s daughter, something you and your Dad quickly made a secret once you joined the Navy. He had a reputation and he didn’t want your career to be tainted before it ever had a chance to start. It wasn’t even really a secret, but rather something that just wasn’t talked about.
“C’mon, you don’t even get along with Rooster man, and you’d rather sit with him than your wingman?” Coyote’s voice called from behind you and both you and Rooster turned.
“I’d rather not sit in a 5 mile radius of Hangman anyhow, much less in the seat next to him.” Rooster quietly laughed and you smiled. Maybe this time you guys could get things right. All thoughts of reconciling were vanished however, when two officials walked into the room, one of them calling you to attention. The class quickly stood up, as your eyes flickered over them. They introduced themselves, Cyclone and Warlock, and and began to explain the seriousness of the mission you’d been called back to fly. Then they introduced your teacher as...
“Captain Pete Mitchell, callsign: Maverick.” You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry at the prospect of your Dad being your teacher. Maybe you would settle for throwing up, as you suddenly felt nauseous. Rooster’s eyes hardened and you felt his gaze for a brief second before looking away. You had suspected it sure, but actually knowing... why was this suddenly so much more daunting than the dangerous mission now being explained to you? You sighed and took a deep breath before straightening up. Your Dad’s eyes flickered over you and Bradley briefly before he began to explain to parameter for training for the day. He listed out the groups. You’d conveniently go last with Rooster. You moved down to the airstrip, where you noticed your Dad calling after Rooster. Apparently, Hangman and Phoenix noticed too and the three of you shared a look.
Eventually, you moved back to the waiting room as the rest of the pilots listened in to those up in the sky. You giggled probably a little too much for Coyote’s liking after Hangman got his ass handed to him, but other than that, no one came close to beating your Dad. If you looked out in the window, you could see the pilots doing their 200 pushups with Hondo. Damn Payback and damn TOPGUN pilots and their egos. Eventually though, it was the last round of the day, and you and Rooster made your way out of the room and towards the airstrip. The two of you clambered into your planes and finished off the last-minute checks. Before you knew it, the two of you were up in the air.
“You see him?” You asked Rooster, and there was silence. “Great, don’t help me.” You muttered.
“Saved the best for last didn’t we?” Maverick’s voice came over the comms.
“Don’t let Hangman hear that, his ego will be hurt.” You knew full well hangman could hear you. You accelerated a little bit, moving up in the air to try and spot your Dad, and then... there. “Hey Rooster, look out.” You called, moving up more to get out of Maverick’s way.
“Don’t need your help.” He started and you sighed.
“Damn, okay.” You muttered. You watched from above as Maverick got Rooster out and you head a “Shit” along with a dial tone.
“Alright Rebel, your turn. Where are you?” You were seated just above Maverick, just far enough out of eye sight, but definitely too far away to get a hit. You moved downwards, praying to God your Dad didn’t spot you. And he did, just not in time. “Shit, kid.” He said, moving his plane forward, trying to get out of your target range. He was too slow, however, as a dial tone sounded through the comms.
“That’s a kill. You’re dead, Mav.” He groaned. “Go see Hondo about your push-ups.” You said, imagining the laughter back on base. You moved your plane back down towards base and it wasn’t long before your Dad caught up too. He pounded on the glass, catching your attention as you neared base. You looked over and he nodded, smiling and giving you a thumbs up. You laughed quietly to yourself as the two of you settled and landed. Rooster was already well into his pushups, but Hondo laughed at Mav nonetheless as he climbed out of his plane. You saluted Hondo as you pulled your helmet off and made your way towards the locker room. You by-passed Phoenix on her way out, presumably to go see Rooster.
“Hey, nice work today.” She said.
“Oh, thanks. You too. Sorry about y’all getting out.” She shrugged.
“Hangman leave you hanging. What can you do?” You laughed quietly. “Hey, we’re all gonna go get some drinks at the Hard Deck tonight, if you wanted to join us.” Despite your comment earlier in the day about not being there to make friends, you’d like for this group of people to like you, at the very least respect you, especially considering most of them had known each other since their TOPGUN days.
“Yeah, yeah that sounds great. Yeah, I’ll be there.” She nodded.
“I’m gonna go check on Rooster.” She said, nodding her head back towards the tarmac. “I’ll see you there.” You nodded and the door to the locker room shut behind her. You sighed out a deep breath, feeling a little tension from the day release.
-
You wandered into the Hard Deck, seeing Coyote and Hangman by the dartboard. While there were a few people at the bar, it wasn’t overly busy and no one else from the squadron was there yet. “Hey boys.” You called and they both turned to you. “Can I play?” Hangman smirked, handing you a dart as you approached.
“Show us what you got, Rebel.” The rest of the team slowly filtered in and eventually Payback and Fanboy walked in, getting beer from Penny and coming to stand next to the dartboard. As you threw another dart, narrowly missing a bullseye, Fanboy decided to break his silence.
“So Rebel, do share about how you managed to be the only person to get Maverick out.”
You laughed as Hangman took his turn, also missing another bullseye. “A magician never reveals her secrets.” You said, taking a sip of your beer. Out of the corner of your eye, you noted that Phoenix and Rooster had joined the crew in the bar and were headed towards you.
“No, actually I want to know how you did it.” Rooster said, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with you. You tried not to shudder as he came into such close proximity of you. The last two days were the closest you’d been to Rooster in years, ever since he cut you off for a reason you’d yet to know. You shrugged, turning your attention back to the bar.
“Tell you what, I’ll tell whoever buys me the next round.” Fanboy and Payback groaned. “Hey, I’ve got to be adequately compensated for sharing my knowledge.” Fanboy laughed at that but then Hangman was shoving another beer into your hand and sitting down.
“Spill.” He demanded. You shrugged again.
“Pure luck. I happened to be out of Maverick’s eye sight and took advantage of the fact that he was distracted with getting Rooster out.” Hangman scoffed. “I’m serious! Most of my career is reckless flying and luck.” Not quite unlike your father...
“So why the callsign Rebel then? Why not Lucky or something?” Payback asked. A ghost of a smile flickered over your face.
“I have tendency to break Navy regulations that are small enough that the Navy can’t discharge me for because my skills as a pilot outweigh the rules I break.”Coyote snickered at this, causing Hangman to raise an eyebrow.
“You have experience with this?” Hangman asked and Coyote nodded.
“Our last CO at the Green Vipers wanted to chuck her out of the squadron at least once a month but he wasn’t allowed to.”
“What’d you do?” Phoenix asked, the curiosity raising in her voice. You shrugged, fiddling with a dart. “I’ll wear my hair in braids instead of a bun. Not when I’m flying of course, but any other time. I paint my nails ridiculous colors. Sometimes I don’t make my bed, other times my uniform won’t be just right. Always small shit, always just enough to get on officials nerves. I won’t do it here because Cyclone and Warlock scare the shit out of me and I fully believe they’d dishonorably discharge me but everyone who’s tried before has been told no because getting rid of one of the Navy’s top pilots for an unmade bed seems ridiculous to higher-ups.”
“You mad woman? Are you trying to get discharged?” Payback asked incredulously. You shook your head.
“No, but I hate rules that feel sexist and outdated. And who the fuck cares if my bed’s made anyways?”
“The Navy.” Rooster responded and you laughed.
“Apparently.” He smiled at you and for the second time that day, you wondered if maybe this would be the time the two of you could get things right. You felt Hangman’s eyes flit between you and Rooster and you felt your stomach sink. A smirk began to appear on the blondes face and quite frankly, you wanted to smack it right off.
“You know, I just can’t help but feel like Rooster and Rebel here know more about each other than they’re willing to let on.” Rooster shot Hangman a glare as you bit your lip nervously. You didn’t care if Rooster told these people about your past but you didn’t want him revealing who your Dad was. You wanted them to respect you and you don’t want to blow your chances of getting selected for this mission.
“Fuck off Hangman, you know nothing.” Rooster said. Fanboy snorted.
“Bradshaw, man, don’t think we all haven’t seen the little side glances you take at her.” You groaned.
“Oh fuck off with that, would you?” Fanboy looked a little taken aback by your response.
“So there’s no secret thing you’re hiding from us?” Coyote said firmly. You shook your head.
“There’s no secret thing.” You confirmed.
“Okay, no secret thing, but any secrets you’re keeping from us?” Hangman said, looking between the two of you. Rooster scoffed and you shook your head.
“Grow up and stop being a nosy asshole Hangman. You’re not entitled to my life story or my secrets.” You said, grabbing your beer and moving towards Halo, Omaha and Fritz, who were over at the pool table.
“You say that like there is a secret.” He taunted and you turned slightly, just enough for him to see you flipping him off. You’d tell these people anything they wanted, but they couldn’t know about your relationship to Maverick. It would fuck everything up.
-
The next week of training was grueling. You knew this mission was going to push you to your limits mentally and physically but holy shit. Despite your initial success and luck on Day 1, no one had successfully completed the course since. As your squadron sat in the debriefing room discussing the day’s activities, a heated argument broke out between Rooster and Hangman. You’d unfortunately got stuck sitting next to Hangman and you wanted to, not for the first time, lean over and smack him. Hangman was getting closer and closer to pushing Rooster over the edge. “Stop being a goddamn asshole.” You snapped, turning to him. He raised his eyebrows.
“Oh shut the fuck up, Rebel. Stop trying to come to my defense like we’re fucking friends.” Rooster shot at you from a row behind you. Maverick looked bewildered at the commotion, unsure how to stop it.
“What the fuck did I ever do to you?” Rooster’s eyes narrowed as you fully faced him.
“You really want to get into it right now?” You shook your head and huffed, turning back around. Your ears were ringing with anger. Rooster cut you off with no warning or explanation as to why and he wanted sit here in front of everyone and act like it was your fault? Asshole. Suddenly, Hangman was making a comment about Goose and your Dad and Rooster was launching up across the row to Hangman. You pushed Hangman back as Coyote grabbed him, pulling backwards. Bob and Phoenix pulled Rooster away as Maverick moved in between the group. Your heart was pounding against your ribs as you and Rooster locked eyes.
“Holy shit, your Mav’s daughter. This is why the two of you don’t get along.” Hangman was saying and you whipped back to Hangman as the attention shifted. His eyes shot over to Rooster. “It’s true, isn’t it Bradshaw?”
“You finally got something right Bagman.” Rooster snarled, chest still heaving. Before you knew it, you were launching at Rooster yourself, but your Dad had been quicker, pulling you back away from the group and into his chest.
“To the grave, Bradshaw, that was supposed to go to the goddamn grave.” The venom in your voice transforming into hurt. You might’ve been able to get by it, deny it to the squadron, but Rooster had just confirmed it in front of everyone. Your Dad still had you by the arms as he dismissed everyone.
“You stay here.” He said to you, pulling you further back from the group. Hangman and Coyote went first, Coyote shooting you a look as he walked out the door that screamed we need to talk. Rooster followed with the rest of the squadron going after him. You didn’t miss the dirty looks and death glares that got sent your way. After the door clicked shut behind the last team member, your Dad’s grip loosened and you turned around to face him. He sighed, moving to sit down in one of the chairs but you stayed upright, chest still having as your ears slowly stopped ringing.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to- You know I’m not-” He waved you off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sorry to be a Mitchell, and I knew it was going to come out eventually, but it shouldn't have come out like that and he knows it.” Your Dad shrugged, looking at you. “Why does he hate me?” You asked. You knew your Dad wouldn't have the answer, never had had the answer, but it was a question that had bothered you for years.
“Because he hates me, and you’re an extension of me. He’s never going to forgive me for what I did.” Your Dad finally answered and you cocked your head in confusion. In all the years that you’d mourned your friendship with Rooster and then grown to hate him yourself, this was the first time your question had never been followed with an “I don’t know.”
“What’d you do?” He sighed, clearly debating on telling you.
“I pulled Bradley’s application to the Naval Academy.” You stumbled backwards, reeling.
“You what? Why- why would you do that? Why didn’t you tell me?” He sighed, looking away from you.
“I figured the less you knew, the better. That way, Rooster would still have you, wouldn’t let it affect his friendship with you. But that’s clearly not what happened and I- I didn’t know how to fix it.” Your mind reeled as you took in this information. You shook your head, finally finding your voice.
“I’m going for a drive.” You finally stated, heading for the door.
“(Y/N)-”
“I’ll see you for training tomorrow Mav.” You called. You knew the usage of his callsign stung and it was meant to. But you needed a moment to process what the hell had just happened and what the hell you had just found out.
-
You shut the door to your car in the parking lot of the Hard Deck as you grumbled. Why the fuck your Dad had called you all out here today was beyond you. You squinted as you saw the figures of Fanboy, Payback, Phoenix, Rooster, and Bob gathered at the edge of the beach. You debated making a run for it before they spotted you, but you didn’t get a choice as Coyote’s arm clapped down on to your shoulders. You startled, looking up at him, and unfortunately, Hangman who was next to him. You rolled your eyes and pushed his arm off, moving towards the group at the edge of the beach. “Oh, sweetheart, c’mon. Why do you always run away from me?” He called as the pair followed after you.
“Because you’re a dick.” You shot back, officially catching the attention of the group. “Didn’t your Mom ever tell you it’s not cool to insult someone’s dead parents?” Phoenix scoffed as you arrived in front of them.
“You’re one to talk. You’ve been keeping the secret that you’re the instructors daughter since Day 1.” Your eyes narrowed.
“Would you have respected me if you’d known?” You challenged. “Look, enough military officials who know his reputation give me enough shit. I’m not going to let this squadron, or any other, do the same. I’ve earned a right to build a name and career for myself separate of Maverick. The least you could do is give me enough grace to do so.” You noticed Payback and Fanboy’s stature soften as Bob shot you a small smile. Rooster was pointedly not making eye contact with you, but honestly, you couldn’t care less considering you still wanted to punch him in the nose. Phoenix opened her mouth to respond but then Maverick was calling for you, motioning you all down to the beach.
“Why in the hell does he have two footballs?” Hangman muttered as the group moved through the sand towards him.
“Fuck if I know.” You responded, causing Coyote to laugh. The group stopped in front of Maverick, where the rest of your squadron awaited.
“Today, we’re gonna play dogfight football. Offense and defense at the same time.” You blinked at your Dad who chuckled at your response. Where did he get these ideas...
As Maverick split you all up into teams, Fanboy grabbed your arm. You stopped, looking at him. He offered out his fist. “May the best pilot win.” He said, looking at you expectantly. You chuckled, fist-bumping him.
“Oh, I intend to.” He laughed and followed Payback over to their side as Hondo explained the rules. You smiled, following Coyote to your area. You knew what the gesture had been indicative of. A truce.��
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Make It Better
Pairing: Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Alluding to Smut, Alcohol, Switch Beau?, Rank kink
A/N: I had to get this Thot out
Main Master-List
———
Everyone has days where they come home from a really bad day at work, today was that day for Y/N but not the wanna cry bad… no it was the pissed off type of bad.
She came home from work late, normally she gets home before Beau does but not tonight. When she did get home she walked straight to the kitchen not bothering to set down her bag, take off her jacket or shoes and completely ignore Beau’s greeting.
Setting the bag on the counter before walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a wine glass before moving to the fridge to grab a bottle of wine. Popping the cork, she poured some into the glass, as she did Beau leaned against the doorway of the kitchen with his arms crossed. Watching as Y/N downed the wine in the glass with one gulp before giving herself another pour. Heavier than before. Pushing off from his spot, Beau comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist just as she takes a sip.
He rests his head on her shoulder and nuzzles his nose just behind her ear “is there anything I can do to make it better Angel?” Setting the glass down, she tapped her fingers against the counter for a moment before nodding “What can I do?” He hums, pressing a kiss against her neck.
“Go upstairs, clothes off and sit on the edge of the bed.” She turned her head slightly to him. And Beau nods, pressing one last kiss to her cheek before following the order.
As soon as Beau was upstairs, Y/N left her bag on the counter, turning back to the entryway of the house, taking her glass with her. She slipped off her shoes and jacket before making her way upstairs as well. As she made her way up, her hand came up to the front of her shirt. Undoing the buttons that held it together before freeing the hem from the waistband of her pants.
Reaching the bedroom door, she pushed it open, taking another sip of wine as her eyes trailed over Beau and how he rested his hands on his knees, waiting, naked, just as she had instructed.
Moving over to the dresser she set the wine glass down, back to Beau as she finished taking off her shirt the rest of the way and undoing her pants. Before she realized what was happening, Beau’s hand made its way to her back. Unclipping her bra before letting it fall to the floor and kissing her shoulder.
Turning her head to the side to catch his lips, she hummed into the kiss before nipping at his lip. “Did I say you could move from the bed Beau?... or that you could touch?”
“I’m sorry Angel… You looked too pretty not to” he smiled, turning to face him. Y/N placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him down to his knees.
And he listened, dragging his hands down her frame and along her waist as he went, before pulling her panties down with him. Leaving a kiss on her hip bone when he was fully seated on his haunches.
Stepping out of her panties, she turned away from him. Grabbing her glass, she made her way over to the corner of the room to Beau’s reading chair.
Settling down into the leather hold of the seat. Y/N took a sip from her glass, motioning Beau over with the curl of her finger. As her legs spread, her eyes followed Beau’s form as he crawled along the floor to her. Stopping in front of her, eye’s trained on her cunt, sat at perfect eye level just inches away from him.
She leaned forward, taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger with her free hand. She raised his attention back to her.
“You wanna help” she raised her brow as he nodded. “If I don’t cum at least once before I finish this glass…” she swirled the remainder of her wine “We’re gonna have a lot more problems. Is that understood?” she watched him nod again before using her grip on his chin to shake his head “I need words”
“Understood, Ma’am”
Leaning back into the chair, she nodded her head “Get to work then Admiral”
-------
Cyclone Enthusiasts(?): @sebsxphia @fanboygarcia @hangmanapologist @rhettabbotts @thesluttyarchivist @t-nd-rfoot @sweetlittlegingy @mothdruid @beachbabey @auroralightsthesky @weakling-grace @basiccortez @wildbornsiren @writercole @hangmanbrainrot @
#beau cyclone simpson#beau cyclone simpson x reader#cyclone simpson#cyclone top gun#cyclone#beau simpson x reader#beau simpson#cyclone x reader#cyclone simpson x reader#top gun imagine#top gun#top gun x reader#top gun maverick#top gun maverick imagine#jon hamm#jon hamm x reader
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The First Time - Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x Reader
Tagging: @burningpeachpuppy @chickensrule @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @justameresimp @lxaah11 @librarian1002 @littlebadariell @imaginecrushes @luckyladycreator2 @flrboyd @nani-kenobi @areamir @@b-bradshaw @adaydreamaway08 @crimeshowjunkie @shepgurl @ashcosmo @inkandarsenic @caffeinatedwoman @tortilla-maria1 @lemmons1998 @dr-alan-grantler @watashiwasun @burningpeachpuppy @penguin876
Prequel to the Deployment!Series:
Propriety (NSFW) - All thoughts of propriety goes out of the window when Beau finds you in his office.
Rumours - Beau doesn't realise there's a rumour about him.
Disengage - Beau discovers your secret.
Stalemate - The stalemate between you and Beau breaks when he recieves some news.
Absence - Beau misses you.
The First Month - Beau struggles through the first month apart.
Home - You finally make it home to Beau.
Darlin (NSFW) - You and Beau spend a little time together.
The first time Beau saw you; you were prosecuting an Ensign under his command who was accused of smuggling coke through produce in the kitchens. Against Beau’s advice the idiot had elected for a court martial. You had eviscerated his case; it was both beautiful and painful to watch.
He'd ran into you that night at a bar just off base. The two of you had shared a drink after he’d congratulated you on your success. You’d been surprised by his candour, Evans was an idiot he told you, he deserved everything he got. It was a refreshing attitude from a commanding officer, they usually gave you both barrels. He’d put you in a cab at the end of the evening because his mama raised a gentleman, and he wanted to see you home safe.
“I enjoyed tonight.” You tell him, lingering in the open door of the vehicle. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”
He gives you that handsome smile and that’s when it happens.
It feels like a lightning strike, a spike of adrenalin searing straight through your nerves. In that moment you want to kiss him, run your fingers through his hair, strip away his shirt and find out what’s underneath but you don’t.
You lie in bed that night, staring at the ceiling wishing you’d taken that shot before you ship out again.
You run into each other a couple of times after that. It always ends the same way, the two of you propping up the bar at the end of the night, heads bowed together laughing. There’s no one that makes you smile as much as Beau, and you adore it.
Things change in Norfolk. You’re doing a two-year rotation as a defence attorney when you meet up with him at a bar off base.
“What’s it like playing for the other side?” He asks you.
You're sitting in a quiet corner away from the hustle and bustle of the other patrons, sharing a pitcher and a basket of fries. The atmosphere is low key, relaxed. It’s easy being with you, there’s no airs and graces, you’re just a woman and he’s just a man, rank doesn’t come into it. His knee bumps against yours underneath the table, you don’t move away. It’s a sign he thinks, you like him just as much as he likes you.
“I don’t really view it as that.” You tell him, dipping your fry in some ketchup. “I like representing service members, it’s different focusing on the needs of the individual. These people are facing the biggest challenges of their life and having me on their side gets them some relief in one way or another. It’s humbling how grateful some people are to have someone actually fighting for them. A lot of them don’t have a lot of faith in the system and I get that. It’s imperfect.”
“That’s an interesting way of looking at it.” He says leaning back in his seat, his evergreen eyes coming to focus on you.
“And I suppose you think the government’s infallible?” You ask him with a sardonic tone. “That there’s never any mistakes or grey areas.”
He picks up his beer and considers your point. It’s the first time someone’s challenged his thinking and he finds it refreshing. He thinks about all the shit he’s seen throughout his career. The shit he’s done in the name of his country. The system isn’t perfect, he’s seen that for himself. There was a sailor last year who was court marshalled for going AWOL, the reason she had gone AWOL was due to a sexual assault, perpetrated by the very people worked alongside. She’d had her trauma challenged and dragged through the court room, before she received a dismissal. It was fucking nauseating.
“No, I don’t.” He admits, shaking his head. “I think it’s a good thing they have someone like you on their side.”
You can tell he means it; he has that haunted look in his eyes. The law isn’t always right, it’s why you took this assignment in the first place. You wanted to see both sides of the table, find your place in it all.
It’s raining heavily when the two of you step outside, you linger in the doorway as you tug your hair out of your jacket. He smiles, reaching out to help you, his fingertips brushing a stray strand back behind your ear.
“Beau.” You say quietly, your fingers smoothing out the collar of his jacket. “How long are we going to keep doing this?”
His eyes capture yours, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek as he leans in close.
“If I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” He tells you.
“Maybe I don’t want you to.” You murmur, your fingertips chasing along the line of his jaw. “Maybe I want this as much as you do.”
He kisses you then, his heated mouth brushing over yours and in that moment you’re lost. Your fingers tangle in his hair, his firm body pressing against you as you deepen the kiss, your tongue dipping into his mouth. He moans and that fucking sound sends a wildfire chasing up through your synapses. You want him, more than you’ve ever wanted anything.
He draws away unwillingly, his gaze on your swollen lips as his thumb chases over the outline of your mouth.
“You wanna get out of here?” He asks you, his head tilting towards the hotel across the street.
“Yea.” You whisper against his lips. “Yea I do.”
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Something Special
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x gn!pilot!reader
Masterlist Part Two
Summary: “Oh, am I supposed to break orders just for you? Like you’re special or something?” OR You aren't sure where you stand with Rooster, but you know he didn't tell you that he might not make it back from the mission.
Word Count: ~1.7k
Warnings: Angst. Swearing. Sadness, some more angst
A/n: This one's pretty sad, I might do a part 2 to make up for it lol. I'm just a sucker for angsty Rooster though. I'd love to know your thoughts, thanks for reading! <3
--
The path your heavy footsteps took felt sickeningly familiar, your body knowing the way to his room with your eyes closed. Stalking through the barrack’s halls, you turned corners with only one thing plaguing your mind, torturing it.
Other pilots passed your reddening vision, ones that you might’ve smiled at on other days – but not today. Not even to Coyote still laying in the med bay you passed as he recovered from passing out. Not when your fist balled so tight your nails dug into your palm and your throat tightened with each step, threatening to choke you out before you ever made it.
You spotted his door, the one you’d knocked so quietly on for months now so no one would hear – only for him to kiss you breathless on the other side of it. But you didn’t bother to give him any warning this time. The hinges creaked as you threw the door open, screaming at you to stop before this all started. Your eyes found Rooster’s as he startled, sitting up from his bed with a hand on his chest.
“Jesus, you scared the shit out of–”
“Shut up,” you told him, almost relishing the way hurt flashed across his face. The door clicking closed behind you was the only thing accompanying your ragged breaths you couldn’t care to hide. “When were you going to tell me, Bradshaw?”
His eyebrows sunk together, his head tilting to the side. “Oh, of course. I’ll tell you right away about whatever vague thing you’re yelling at me about,” he said, his voice coming with a slight bite.
“You’re an ass. You know that?” You crossed your arms, gritting your teeth so hard your jaw began to ache.
He let out a disbelieving laugh as he stood. “And you’re a stubborn dick. Now that we’ve exchanged pleasantries, can you actually use your words and tell–”
“Are you going on a fucking suicide mission? Is it true?”
You already knew it was. But your face hardened, refusing to show him any emotion. Covering up the heart on your sleeve. Maybe you should’ve started this with honesty, that you were more hurt than angry, more scared than anything. But the deep ridges of your rage felt comfortable, right, for what he’d done to you. Or hadn’t done.
Rooster’s mouth opened and closed, his mustache twitching as he struggled to say anything. You just raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to tell you that somehow this was all a misunderstanding. You could handle looking like an idiot, but this? The truth? You weren’t so sure.
His hand dragged down his face, the brown of his eyes void of its usual warmth that you often sought out – passing in the halls, across the table in boring meetings, standing before your plane with your heart in your throat.
“Who told you?” he asked, looking everywhere but you. And his question brought a horrible realization in front of you, trickling down your spine alongside other secrets he kept from you.
“Rooster,” you gritted out, forcing your voice to stay steady. “When Coyote couldn’t fly, and they were looking for someone to replace him… did my name ever come up?”
The silence left between you two vibrated, buzzing so hard it ached in your chest. “Tell me you didn’t talk to Maverick, or Cyclone for christ’s sake, and convince them not to pick me.” Too many moments passed, his face unyielding and so unlike the man you’d come to know. When he didn’t answer, just shifted his body from one foot to the other, you tiredly whispered out, “Bradley…”
“Who told you? The mission is confidential.” Rooster moved toward you, his jaw hard set and ticking. You weren’t on the mission – thanks to him apparently – but with being at the same base, you’d found opportunities to get bits and pieces out of Hangman and Maverick. The fact that Rooster didn’t tell you though weighed heavier on your mind.
“Is that why you didn’t tell me? Because it’s confidential?” you spit out, voice mocking. It was a valid reason, but he told you everything against your lips, bodies facing one another on his too-small bed in between dusk and dawn.
He came closer still, angry breaths filling the space between you two as his eyes refused to leave yours now. “Oh, am I supposed to break orders just for you? Like you’re special or something?”
That made you pause, the first time you’d done so since learning the news. Your gaze unfocused, drifting down until they fell on his hands. Hands you had once trusted to hold you despite everything else going on – now they merely looked like a stranger’s. Had you so badly misunderstood where you fit into his life?
With a sad laugh, you shook your head as you thought out loud, “Yeah, guess I thought so. Especially when you’re going off to get yourself killed.”
A groan came from the back of his throat. “I… this is bigger than us. I just–”
“It’s fine,” you told him, raising your hands up in surrender. As you stepped back, you could’ve sworn his fingers twitched, shifted toward you just an inch. “It was my mistake.” Your voice came out as a whisper when you opened the door, letting it close behind you softly. Biting the inside of your cheek, you didn’t let tears fall until you made it back to your bed, alone.
–
You didn’t hear the news from Rooster, that he’d been chosen to go on the mission. No, you’d picked up on it as the whole base seemed to come alive as the day neared. And he stood at the center of it. You’d done your best to avoid him and his usual routine that you had memorized just to sneak spare moments together here and there.
Time you might have had to yourself was spent in the gym, or anywhere but your room in case he decided to come by. You knew he hadn’t though, not with the mission hanging over his head.
It wasn’t until the morning of the flight that you saw Rooster again in the hallway outside the locker rooms – you on your way in to change for a workout, him on his way out, carrying his flight gear.
“Oh,” you said, stepping back so you didn’t bump into his chest. You stared at his helmet, the design on it so him. And all you could do was focus on your even breathing as he cleared his throat.
“Wasn’t expecting you here,” he said, his voice void of the anger it had before.
“Could say the same.” You still kept the grit to your words, unable to let them go as he stood there before you – ready to go on a mission he wouldn’t let you take.
Rooster nodded, pursing his lips. “I, uh, couldn’t wait around. Too many nerves, so I got ready early. Before we head out on the aircraft carrier.”
“I know how that is,” you breathed out, knowing you should offer him some sort of reassurance. But couldn’t he offer the same? Give you something to hold onto besides hope. Hope. As if that could make you feel any less helpless standing back here while he soared above. Alone.
You nearly couldn’t take the silence crackling between your bodies, hanging much too heavy on your already aching shoulders. Picking at your nails, you were about to wish him luck when he spoke up.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what, exactly?” you asked, voice tight as you stared at and through him.
You saw the way his jaw ticked for just a brief moment before he let out a long breath. “For not telling you the truth… about everything.”
Trying to focus on the grounding feeling of your arms crossing over your chest, you whispered, “But you’d do it again if given the chance, wouldn’t you, Rooster?”
His chest heaved when he answered, “Yes, baby, I would.”
And you couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped your mouth – at the pet name, at his answer, at everything he seemed to stand for.
“Were you trying to protect me from danger, or were you protecting yourself from this?” you asked, gesturing between the two of you. “That fear you’d have of me flying up there, of getting my chance to be more, is what I now have to live with. Maybe forever if you don’t come bac–”
“I’m coming back, okay?” You stared him down like you didn’t believe him, and you weren’t sure he believed it himself.
Shaking your head, you gritted out, “And if I had gone on this flight, said this exact BS you’re trying to tell me, you wouldn’t have batted an eye? Bradley, you’re a fucking hypocrite and you’re god damn scared.”
“Of course I’m scared!” he shouted, moving forward until his body pressed against yours. “Maybe I don’t make it back, but you will. You’ll be here, and you can keep living.”
His anger seethed from him, his throat straining. Still, you pressed your hands against his chest, pushing him back. “Or it could be you here, on the ground and safe. Since when do you get to choose who lives and who dies?”
“Since I lost my fucking parents, that’s when. If I have the chance to stop from losing another person I love, I’m going to take it,” he said, ripping your hands from him. His eyes, now turned dark and pupils large, moved frantically across your face.
Your stomach sank, dropping down, down, down and turning to stone. “Don’t,” you whispered, the corners of your eyes beginning to sting no matter how much you begged them to quiet, to dry, to shove any emotion away.
“I…” he stammered, reaching out to grab you again. “It’s true, I love you.”
Gritting your teeth, you turned your head away. “Don’t, Bradley. You don’t get to do this to me.” Tears finally spilled over and onto your cheeks. The feeling that this conversation was a goodbye seeped through your skin, settling into your bones.
“Please,” he begged, grasping onto your arms. Maybe you loved him too, maybe that’s where your unyielding rage stemmed from as he caused you this pain. But you wouldn’t let that hurt you, not when him dying would kill you.
You grabbed his hands, giving them a final squeeze. “Good luck up there.” The look of his tearful face as you backed away wouldn’t leave your mind, not when you refused to leave your room until you were sure Rooster was gone.
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@reidslovely
#rooster x reader#rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#top gun maverick#top gun angst#rooster top gun
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Holding Out For A Hero
Pairing(s): Rooster x Wife!Reader, implied Maverick x Penny, and hints of Hangman x Phoenix (pre-official relationship)
Author’s Note: I’ve had the idea for this one rolling around in my head for a while, so I figured being sick at home was as good a time as any to finally sit down and write it!
Bradley convinces Mrs. Bradshaw to perform at Open Mic Night at The Hard Deck. If you’re interested in listening, the song she performs is the Ella Mae Bowen version of Holding Out For A Hero.
Warnings: A little bit of anxiety related to performing in front of a crowd, plus lots and lots of Bradshaw fluff.
Tucking yourself away in the back room of The Hard Deck, you had never been more grateful for your close friendship with Penny. Outside, the bar was getting crowded and noisy, the air thick with excited anticipation. Back here, hidden behind crates of Bud Light and Sam Adams, you were offered a small respite from the clamor and an opportunity to breathe.
Not that you were necessarily doing that so well.
Dragging another shaky breath into your lungs, you rested your trembling hands in your lap and closed your eyes, trying to count backwards from ten in an attempt to calm your fraying nerves.
Were you absolutely insane? How had you allowed Bradley to talk you into doing this?
About a month ago, Penny had gotten the idea that she wanted to host an Open Mic Night at The Hard Deck as a fundraiser for Wounded Warrior Project.
“It’ll be fun,” she told you, Bradley, Mav, and the rest of the Dagger Squad over dinner one night. “Everyone’s always singing every night anyway. Might as well give some people a chance to take center stage, and raise money for a good cause while doing it. Plus, we know we’ll have accompaniment. We can never get Rooster off that piano,” she teased affectionately, throwing a playful wink in your husband’s direction.
“Sounds fun, Penny!” Fanboy nodded enthusiastically, before hungrily shoveling down more of Penny’s chicken pot pie.
“I’m sure lots of people would sign up, especially knowing it’s a fundraiser and all,” Bob chimed in, sliding his glasses up his nose.
“You going to sing something, Bob?” Hangman asked with a teasing smirk, casually stretching his arms out and resting one on the back of Phoenix’s chair.
Bob turned bright red at the prospect, shaking his head. “Me? No, no. I don’t sing. But, uh, I’ll be there for moral support!” he insisted, practically tripping over his own words.
Phoenix was quick to jump in to defend her backseater. “Why don’t you serenade us all with something, Bagman? A classic rendition of Take My Breath Away, perhaps?” she suggested sarcastically, arching an eyebrow as she looked up at him.
Hangman just smirked in response, his eyes lingering on Phoenix’s face a little longer than strictly necessary.
There was definitely something going on between those two, no matter how many times Phoenix had denied it whenever you broached the subject.
“Anyway,” Payback cut in, pointedly looking between Hangman and Phoenix before steering the conversation back towards the event itself. “Sounds like it’ll be a good time, Penny. Maybe The Hard Deck could even host a barbeque on the beach beforehand. Turn it into an all day event, you know?”
“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Penny nodded, pulling out her phone and typing a few notes into it. “Maybe we could even plan some games and activities on the beach.”
“A little dogfight football, anyone?” Coyote asked jokingly, nudging Maverick with a grin.
“Maybe family-friendly activities that involve everyone keeping their shirts on,” Penny laughed, her grin only growing wider as some of the guys groaned in disappointment.
“We’ll help you set everything up, Penny,” Phoenix said, taking a sip of water. “We’ll get flyers out and tell everyone. It’ll be a great time.”
“Think we’ll be able to convince Cyclone to sing a little something?” Fanboy grinned, his expression brimming with mirth at the very idea of their Air Boss performing a karaoke rendition of anything.
“Highly unlikely,” Payback laughed, leaning back in his chair with a contented sigh, his plate completely cleaned off.
“You’ll sing something, won’t you, Rooster?” Penny asked, resting her chin in her hand and smiling at him.
“Me?” Bradley asked with feigned surprise, raising his eyebrows as if shocked by the very notion.
“Oh, save it, Bradshaw,” Hangman rolled his eyes with a smirk, tossing his napkin at him. “We all know you’ll perform some big number to bring the house down.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at that, smiling affectionately over at your husband. Whatever Bradley performed, you were already certain it would be your favorite song of the night.
Bradley turned his head and met your gaze, his eyes sparkling as he rested a hand on your thigh, his thumb brushing gently against the skin that was exposed just beneath the hem of your sundress.
“You know, I’m not the only Bradshaw who knows how to sing,” he announced suddenly, winking briefly at you before turning his attention back to the rest of the group.
“Oh, Bradley, no!” you exclaimed, immediately knowing what he was getting at. You swatted at his arm, your cheeks already flushing in embarrassment.
“Oh, you stop it!” Penny jumped in, waving her hands at you with a smile. “You have a beautiful voice, sweetie. You should sing something!”
“Beautiful voice? How come we’ve never heard this beautiful voice, hm? Been hiding it away from us?” Coyote grinned, raising his eyebrows as he leaned forward in his chair to look over at you.
“It’s hardly anything special,” you insisted, waving your hand firmly in the air as if to brush the notion away entirely. “Singing in the shower or while doing the dishes hardly makes you an expert.”
“But you do have a beautiful voice. I’ve heard it,” Phoenix grinned, shooting you a pointed look when you glared at her. “I mean, Rooster did take you to karaoke for your first date and all.”
Before you knew it, Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, and Hangman had taken up a chant of, “Sing for us,” banging their hands on the table and grinning at you expectantly.
You pinched your husband’s leg under the table, prompting a surprised yelp to escape his lips.
“I’ll have you all know that this is bullying and peer pressure and I won’t stand for it,” you told them, trying to bite back the smile that was tugging at the corners of your mouth. They were all so ridiculous, they couldn’t help but make you laugh.
“That’s right. You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to,” Bob came to your defense, smiling at you.
“Watch out, Bob, or we’ll make the two of you sing a duet,” Fanboy laughed, lightly smacking his friend on the back.
“No one has to make any decisions now,” Penny cut in, rising to begin clearing the table so that she could set out dessert. You immediately jumped up to help her. “I’m just glad to know you’re all on board. The sign-up sheet will be posted in The Hard Deck for anyone who decides they want to perform,” she said, nudging you with a little grin.
And somehow, against all odds, your husband had managed to convince you.
“Come on, honey,” he murmured to you as you were both lying in bed later that night. “You really do have such a beautiful voice. And as much as I’m privileged to get those concerts for one in the bathroom, other people should get to hear how talented you are, too.”
Biting your lip, you rolled onto your side and gazed at him in the darkness, your eyes adjusting and making out his silhouetted form beside you. “What would I even sing? People wouldn’t want to listen to me. I’d get such bad stage fright, I’d probably be hiding in the corner.”
Chuckling softly, Bradley wrapped his arms around you and dropped a kiss on your lips. “I’d want to listen to you. Our friends would want to listen to you. Everyone else with half a brain would want to listen to you. And you know lots of songs,” he added, brushing your hair behind your ear with gentle fingers.
You wavered silently, not agreeing, but not disagreeing either.
Bradley seemed to take that as his chance to really drive his argument home. “What if I played for you, hm? Piano or guitar, depending on what song you wanted to sing. Then you wouldn’t have to feel like you were doing it alone. What do you say to that?”
You groaned, knowing how persistent he was going to be about this. He wasn’t going to stop until you said yes. Burying your face in his neck, you mumbled, “I say, why do you have to be so annoyingly talented, huh? Piano and guitar? There’s no escaping you, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”
He laughed in response, his chest rumbling as he pulled you in closer. “So is that a yes then?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“It’s more of an I guess so,” you replied, smiling despite yourself as your husband let out an enthusiastic whoop of excitement.
There were a few different songs that you considered performing, going back and forth on a couple of them. In the end, however, you settled on Holding Out For A Hero, a song that you had loved listening to since you were a little girl.
“But not the Bonnie Tyler version,” you told Bradley as he attempted to pluck out a few of the chords on his guitar. “This version, by Ella Mae Bowen,” you explained, showing him a video of her performance. It was slower, softer, sweeter. More romantic.
After Bradley finished listening to it, he grinned up at you. “I think you’re going to knock it out of the park, honey,” he predicted, pecking your lips softly.
The two of you practiced most nights over the course of the following weeks, in preparation for the big night. Some nights, you got more rehearsal time than others. On more than one occasion, Bradley’s fingers would suddenly stop strumming the guitar and he’d lift his head to look at you, his dark eyes thick with an emotion you recognized all too well.
“Damn, but that voice does things to me, baby,” he’d whisper before setting his guitar to the side and carrying you off to bed.
Still, especially as Open Mic Night got closer, you insisted with all the personal restraint you could muster that he be professional and help you with your lessons.
“What a diva,” Bradley had laughed one night, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before nodding and starting to play the song once more.
You were as ready as you were going to be.
Or so you thought.
But now tonight was the night, and you were hiding out behind crates of beer in the back of The Hard Deck.
The day had been wonderful, which you were thrilled about. You knew how much it meant to Penny. Between the massive barbeque on the beach, and the afternoon full of scheduled games and activities, everyone had been having a great time. You were pretty sure that Penny had already surpassed the fundraising goal she’d set for herself, and the night wasn’t even over yet.
But now, with the sun starting to set on the beach, everyone was beginning to filter back inside for Open Mic Night. The bar was abuzz with eager and excited anticipation, as people in the crowd awaited performances from their friends and loved ones.
And you were panicking.
Palms slick with sweat, you’d evaded the rest of the group and slipped into the back room of the bar, a location you were all too familiar with from your time working as a waitress at The Hard Deck.
Wiping your hands on the front of your simple, navy blue sundress, you took a few more deep breaths, trying to calm your racing nerves.
Were you crazy? How were you seriously going to sing in front of all these people? What if you messed up? What if it was horribly cringey and everybody—
“Honey?”
You could hear your husband’s voice, thick with comfort and tenderness, as he pushed open the door and slid into the room, the noise from the bar fading once more as it swung shut behind him.
“Over here,” you called out in response, knowing he’d be able to find you in no time.
He did. Crouching down in front of you, he rested one large, warm palm over both your hands and looked into your eyes. “Hey,” he said softly, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “What’s wrong, baby? What are you doing back here?”
“Hiding,” you confessed, a shaky smile gracing your lips. “Kind of hoping that if I stay back here long enough, everyone will forget I signed up to do this.”
“Aw, baby,” Bradley smiled, settling himself down on a crate across from you and reaching out to pull you onto his lap. “Are you really that nervous?” he asked, running his hand up and down your back soothingly.
“I didn’t think I’d be,” you admitted, biting down on your lower lip. “I thought I would be okay. But now that it’s so close, and I see all those people out there, I’m starting to freak out a little bit.”
Bradley nodded in understanding, peppering your shoulder with soft kisses and stroking your arm lightly. “I know it’s scary, honey. Hell, even I get a little nervous when I play in front of a lot of people I don’t know.”
“Really? You do?” you asked, eyes widening in genuine surprise. “I never would have thought that, not in a million years. You always seem so confident.”
“I guess it’s sort of a part of the act, huh?” he replied, wiggling in his eyebrows teasingly. “Everybody gets nervous, baby. I’m sure everyone who signed up to perform tonight is feeling the same way you are. Well, maybe except Hangman,” he grinned, rolling his eyes good-naturedly and earning a laugh from you. “It’s normal to be nervous. It means you care about what you’re doing.”
You sighed softly, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.
Bradley rested a gentle hand on your cheek, lifting your head so that you were looking at him. “Listen, honey. If you don’t want to perform tonight, you don’t have to. But I know how hard you worked, and I know how talented you are, and I’d hate for you to miss out on an opportunity to show that off tonight.”
You smiled slightly at that, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “You’ll be with me the whole time, right?” you grinned, leaning in to rest your forehead against his.
“The whole time,” Bradley promised, kissing the tip of your nose. “You can keep your eyes on me. Just sing to me, honey.”
“Okay,” you nodded, your voice small, but your smile wide.
“That’s my girl,” Bradley said proudly, holding you in his arms as he stood up, and then setting you back down on your own two feet. “Come on, Mrs. Bradshaw. We’ve got a show to put on,” he grinned, taking your hand in his and leading you back into the bar, where Penny had set up a little makeshift stage for Open Mic Night.
“There you are,” Phoenix said, resting a hand on your shoulder. “We were getting worried. You’re up next,” she told you with a supportive grin, squeezing your arm excitedly.
Your stomach did a few little flips as the trio of girls who had been performing stepped down off the stage, and Penny stepped up to introduce you. She smiled brightly as she called you up, beckoning to you encouragingly.
Taking a deep breath, and with the well wishes of your friends in your ear, you moved forward and stepped up onto the stage, Bradley following closely behind you.
“Oh, yes, and we do have our very own Rooster Bradshaw accompanying on guitar tonight,” Penny added with a grin, clapping for the two of you as she stepped down and moved to stand beside Mav behind the bar.
“Hi, everyone,” you greeted the crowd with a smile, adjusting the microphone and swallowing back the nervousness that was threatening to spill over once more.
“HELLOOOOOOOO,” you heard the Dagger Squad screaming from their spot near the bar, which made you laugh despite your nerves.
“Um, I’m going to be singing a song many of you might be familiar with. It’s a little bit of a different arrangement, but I hope you’ll enjoy it,” you explained, doing your best to look over the audience members’ heads, a trick your mom had taught you when you were little and nervous about performing in the school play. You smiled over at Bradley and held out a hand towards him. “I’m very lucky to have my husband accompanying me on the guitar tonight. I know most of you are used to seeing him at the piano, but he is a man of many talents,” you chuckled.
The audience, many of whom were regulars at The Hard Deck, cheered and applauded for Bradley.
“And, well, I’d like to dedicate this song to him,” you went on, your eyes meeting his across the stage. You felt immediately centered and comforted by his warm, loving gaze. “Because I spent my whole life waiting for a hero. And I found him.”
The crowd let out soft little “Awws” at your pronouncement, but you were too focused on your husband to even notice.
“I love you,” he mouthed, shooting you a little wink as he settled his guitar on his lap and raised his fingers to the strings. He lifted his head to look at you, a question in his eyes.
When you nodded, he started strumming the opening chords of the song, the music very familiar to you now after weeks of drilling it into your mind.
“Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?” you crooned softly into the microphone, holding onto it to steady your trembling hands. “Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?”
You could sense some people in the crowd smiling and nodding their heads, recognizing the song instantly.
“Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night, I toss and turn and dream of what I need,” you sang, turning your attention to Bradley.
You were singing for him. Just like you’d promised.
“I need a hero. I'm holding out for a hero ’til the end of the night. He's gotta be strong, he's gotta be fast, and he's gotta be larger than life. Larger than life,” you went on, your voice strong, yet sweet as you imbued each word with meaning.
As the song went on, your confidence grew and you were even able to make eye contact with some people in the audience. You could see Mav and Penny behind the bar, beaming proudly and waving to you as they shot you the thumbs-up sign. Phoenix was recording your performance on her phone, and the rest of the Dagger Squad had their hands up in the air, cheering you on.
And Bradley. Your sweet husband. His calloused fingers strummed the guitar expertly as he watched you perform with love and pride glowing brightly in his warm eyes.
“Through the wind and the chill and the rain, and the storm and the raging flood. Oh, his approach is like the fire in my blood. I'll meet a hero,” your voice lilted as you entered into the final portion of the song. “And then we'll dance ’til the morning light,” you sang intentionally, winking over at Bradley.
If there was one thing your husband loved to do, it was dance with you.
Bradley winked back as you moved into the final chorus, holding out a sustained note as you sang yearningly for your hero to be “larger than life.”
He was. He really was. Your hero was everything you had ever hoped for and more, all wrapped up in the handsome man seated across the stage, guitar in hand as he gave you the confidence you needed to stand in front of this huge crowd of people and sing your heart out.
When the song finally came to an end, your cheeks flushed pleasantly from the heat of the lights and your own endorphins, the audience erupted into applause, cheering and hollering in support. You could hear your friends chanting your name from the bar, whooping loudly as they clapped for you.
“Thank you,” you murmured softly into the microphone, figuring it would be best to get off the stage before your legs completely turned to Jell-O.
As you started to turn, however, you were surprised to see Phoenix running towards the stage, a large bouquet of flowers in hand. Instead of passing them to you, however, she quickly turned them over to Bradley, who was carefully setting his guitar off to the side of the stage.
“What’s this?” you asked in surprise as he walked over to hand them to you. They were your favorite, of course—yellow roses. You had no idea when he’d managed to sneak these past you.
“For you, honey,” he said, placing them in your hands. He reached up to cup your cheek, beaming down at you. “I’m so proud of you,” he added softly, leaning in to kiss you soundly, right there on the stage in the middle of The Hard Deck.
The crowd began cheering even louder, which made you laugh and blush, hiding your face in your husband’s neck as the two of you finally broke apart.
“Looks like it was Mrs. Rooster who brought down the house tonight!” someone from the back of the crowd called, which made everyone else laugh.
Taking your hand in his, Bradley guided you off the stage, Penny stopping to give you a big hug on her way back up to announce the next performer.
“Great job, sweetheart,” she said proudly, kissing your cheek before continuing on.
As soon as you got to the bar, your friends swarmed around you, congratulating you and complimenting you on what an amazing job you’d done.
“How did you manage to hide that voice from us all this time?” Coyote demanded, shaking his head in shock.
“She’s modest,” Phoenix laughed, giving you a warm hug.
“What are you going to sing for us next?” Fanboy wanted to know, grinning as he nudged you playfully.
“Alright, alright, give her a chance to breathe,” Bradley chuckled, resting his hands on your shoulders. He leaned in closer, his mouth pressed against your ear as he whispered, “Want to go outside for a little air?”
You nodded immediately, slipping your hand into his as he pulled you towards the side exit, where the deck looked to be empty for the time being.
“You did it, baby,” Bradley murmured once the two of you were outside, the evening air feeling blessedly cool on your flushed skin. “I knew you could do it.”
“Only because of you,” you grinned, setting your flowers down on the deck railing and wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
Bradley shook his head, smiling as he rested his hands on your hips and gazed down at you. “No, that was all you, honey. You blew them away. You blew me away,” he grinned, nuzzling his nose against yours. “You should be really proud of yourself. I know I’m proud of you.”
Beaming, you slid your fingers into his hair and pulled him down for a kiss, his hands moving upward to rest on your back as he pulled you closer to his chest. You would never grow tired of his kisses, or of the feel of his strong arms holding you and keeping you safe.
“I love you,” you whispered, pressing soft, gentle pecks to his upper lip, then his lower lip, then the corners of his mouth. “And I meant what I said up there. You’re my hero, Bradley Bradshaw.”
Bradley smiled, reaching up to hold your face delicately between both his hands. “And you’re mine.”
You and your husband stood quietly together on the deck, wrapped in each other’s arms as you watched the waves crash onto the shore and listened to the soft strains of music emanating from the bar.
Suddenly, Phoenix came rushing out, nearly out of breath in her hurry to come find the two of you. “It’s time! Come on! You don’t want to miss this,” she grinned, turning on her heel and practically running back inside.
Laughing, you and Bradley hurried after her. And the performance that awaited you certainly did not disappoint.
For all that you had been proud of your performance, nothing could compare to the sight of Hangman, Coyote, Payback, Fanboy, and a hapless Bob up on stage, belting out what was quite possibly the most painful rendition of Take My Breath Away that you had ever heard.
You loved every second of it.
And so did the crowd apparently, judging by the standing ovation they received.
“And that’s how it’s done,” Hangman smirked as he swaggered back over to the bar, walking straight past the girls who were very clearly making eyes at him and just so happening to land back by Phoenix’s side.
“Very impressive,” you grinned, leaning against Bradley as he sat perched on one of the bar stools.
“Next Open Mic Night, you’ll all have to sing something together!” Penny exclaimed, grinning knowingly.
“Next Open Mic Night?” you asked, shooting her a questioning look.
Penny winked as she cleared a few glasses off the bar. “Better start whipping out your songbook, Mrs. Bradshaw.”
#mr. & mrs. bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#mrs. bradshaw#rooster x wife!reader#rooster x reader#x reader#x female reader#miles teller#top gun#top gun: maverick
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There are Exceptions
(Part 2 of There Are Rules)
Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader
A/N: Not sure why this was suppressed from search the first time around. Trying again, this time without the tag list because I don't want to spam you guys.
Summary: Your Top Gun instructor continues to condemn your reckless behavior - this time out of the cockpit - while simultaneously being drawn to you against his better judgement.
CW: age gap (20-25 years), angst, swearing, some fluff, fairly mature content so please read at your own discretion. I'm gonna say this is a mature read just to be safe, not really sure where the line is, y'all.
WC: 2000+
Twenty minutes after your encounter with Maverick in the locker room, you walk into the debriefing room to find Cyclone pacing back and forth in front of the whiteboard with his hands in his pockets. When he sees you, he shoots you a stern look before shaking his head and turning away in disgust. You glance at Maverick who is standing to the side, watching you uneasily.
“Tell me what she’s still doing here,” Cyclone says through gritted teeth.
“She’s not going anywhere,” Maverick responds resolutely.
Cyclone looks over at Maverick sharply. “Excuse me?”
Maverick reciprocates his unyielding expression. “She made a mistake. I’ve already spoken with her.”
“You’ve spoken with her?” Cyclone raises his eyebrows in astonishment.
You make your way further into the room, waiting for an opportunity to communicate your version of events. Your call to land your aircraft despite unilateral engine failure was not a mistake, and you intend to voice that opinion.
“It’s my decision,” Maverick says, eyeing you grimly. “And my decision is that she stays.”
Cyclone watches Maverick bitterly. “Get her out of my sight,” he says dangerously.
Maverick’s gaze remains fixed on you as you let out a sigh, prepared to defend your actions. Maverick shakes his head slightly, cautioning you against it, so you press your lips together forcefully. Fighting to keep your anger at bay, you salute your superiors and proceed to storm out of the room before you could make the situation worse.
…
You head out into the parking lot in a fury without even checking to see if perhaps Maverick has followed you out. You toss your bag into the backseat and slam the door so hard that your car shakes. You start the engine just as Maverick steps out of the building, glancing around. Putting the car into drive, you hit the gas aggressively, pulling out of your parking spot with excessive momentum. He watches you wearily as you speed past him and you see him shaking his head and heading for his bike at a run in your rear-view mirror.
You find yourself hardly caring how he feels about your theatrics. You’re so furious that you know you’re not thinking clearly. If your rage makes your driving reckless, then so be it. You swerve between the sluggish cars, cursing every driver for not getting out of your way fast enough. Behind you, Maverick is following suit, so you clench your jaw and push down on the gas pedal, pulling a sharp turn at the intersection.
Two seconds later, you see Maverick appear on your left, signaling with his arm for you to pull over. You obstinately look straight ahead, ignoring him. You don’t want to see his stupid face any more than you want to go back to Top Gun and see Cyclone’s. You can’t tell if you’re more pissed off that Maverick walked out of the locker room before the two of you could resolve whatever the fuck it was that happened, or that he let Cyclone dismiss you without even giving you a chance to stick up for yourself. Either way, you’re not in the mood to be chewed out for a third time in one day.
You glance over at him again, noticing that he’s yelling something at you from the neighboring lane. You look back at your speedometer and realize that you’re going 30 miles over the speed limit. You let out a frustrated sigh and ease your pressure on the gas, letting the car slowly decelerate. You pull off to the side of the road, a cloud of sand lifting off the shoulder as you hit the breaks. Maverick pulls up right in front of you and hops off his bike before you’ve even unbuckled your seat belt.
He walks around the front of your car and slams his palm on the hood. “Do you have a death wish?” he yells so loudly that you hear him even with the window rolled up.
You stare at him mutely through the windshield as his jacket flaps in the breeze. The wind is messing up his hair and flattening his t-shirt against his abdomen and you’re irritated that you find him attractive even when you’re this mad. He’s in his aviators so you can’t see his eyes, but he looks livid; his jaw is tight, his lips pressed together in a thin line.
He steps around the side mirror, leaning down to peer into your window. “Open the door,” he orders.
You give him a flat look and turn away, so he knocks on the window.
“Y/N,” he calls. “I’m not leaving until you open the door.”
You sigh, wondering what he wants from you now, considering where you left things not even an hour prior. His knuckles rap on the window again and you look over at him coldly. Maverick takes off his sunglasses, hooking them into the neck of his t-shirt, and his eyes betray his concern despite the hard set of his jaw.
“Are you okay?” he asks through the window.
The fact that he’s concerned enrages you. How dare he presume to care now? Yet his troubled tone paired with the agonized lift of his eyebrows weakens your already volatile composure. You feel the sting of tears behind your eyes and you shut them tightly trying to hold back every last one. You turn away from the window, lowering your gaze.
Maverick leans his head into the glass, trying the door again even though he knows you haven’t unlocked it. “Talk to me, Y/N.”
You close your eyes, knowing that sooner or later you’ll have to face him again. You reach for the lock and, the moment it clicks, Maverick pulls the door open. You’re still not looking at him, however, because you’re too busy trying to neutralize the sudden onset of emotion, a condition with which you’re not too often afflicted. Your efforts fall short as several tears escape, dropping into your lap.
“Hey,” Maverick says, lowering himself into a crouched position by the side of your car. “Hey,” he repeats, laying a hand on your leg. “Please don’t,” he says, curling his fingers around the hand in your lap. “Don’t cry,” he whispers.
You lick your lips, glancing down at him with eyes full of tears, and his tortured expression crumbles further.
“Y/N,” he whispers, lifting his hand up to cup your cheek. He moves his thumb under your eye, catching a tear.
You let out a small sigh, leaning your face into his hand. Maverick furrows his brows, trying to mask the look of longing on his face. He pulls on your hand that’s still firmly in his grasp and brings it to his brow as he lowers his head.
“What do I do here, Y/N?” he mutters. “Tell me what to do.”
You have a few ideas but you decide to keep them to yourself. He’s too stubborn to listen to anybody but himself anyway.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry that I crossed the line today.”
It seems impossible that words could elicit this much hurt, and yet his words inflict an agony you’ve never experienced. Your only solace is that he looks just as broken as you feel.
Your extremely competent, confident instructor is falling apart right before your eyes and you’ve never wanted him more because it’s you who’s affected him in this way. You pull your hand back, taking his with it, and he glances up at you defeatedly. You twist your fingers out of his grasp and place your hand on the wheel. “I should go,” you say, wiping your face resolutely.
He nods, grabbing the door and lifting himself up. He sighs, glancing in either direction before patting the roof of your car. “Go slower,” he requests.
You let out a wry chuckle. “That’s not my style.”
Maverick shakes his head with a grim expression. “Please, don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re indestructible.”
You stare ahead at his bike a few feet away from your car. “Where’s your helmet, Captain?”
Maverick scoffs, a smirk materializing on his face. He nods, pursing his lips. “I am a terrible role model,” he admits.
“Kind of an unfortunate trait considering your profession,” you note.
Maverick laughs, lowering his head to peek into your car. “I’ll get a helmet if you slow down,” he offers.
“Not like you to play it safe,” you say, a hint of disappointment in your tone.
He sighs. “There are road rules for a reason.”
“Again with the rules,” you say rolling your eyes.
He watches you quietly for a moment and you know you’ve hit a nerve. “Some rules don’t have exceptions,” he says.
You meet his gaze. “And others?”
Maverick’s expression darkens. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N,” he says, and pushes off the car with a heavy sigh, shutting your door.
You watch him walk back to his bike, his jacket flapping in the wind. He stands there for a moment, staring at the seat somberly. He hesitates for several seconds, then lifts his gaze to look at you through your windshield. He shakes his head slightly and sets his jaw, glancing upward as though he’s cursing whatever higher power has made him feel the way he does about you. His mouth twitches and, as though he’s made a split-second decision, he’s suddenly turning back, stuffing his keys into his pocket as he marches toward your car.
You stare at him in shock as he pulls your door open forcefully. The next moment, he’s ducking his head into your car. His mouth is clamped shut as he tries to compose himself, but he’s breathing so forcefully, his chest is heaving with each inhalation. His eyes are sweeping over your face with such ferocity that it feels obscene in the most amazing way. His jaw remains taut as his face hovers just out of reach, and you want more than anything to pull yourself closer, to kiss away the worried crease between his eyebrows.
He releases another heavy sigh, his hand sinking into your thigh. “If you think that this has been easy for me,” he says steadily. “That your face, your voice” – he inhales slowly – “your smell has given my mind a moment’s respite, you’re wrong.”
His other hand finds its way up your neck, curving around the back of your head. You shudder as his thumb brushes over your lips, nearly vibrating with desire. You want to ask him why he’s fighting it if you’ve been occupying his thoughts as much as he has been yours. But all that escapes your mouth is a hollow gasp as his thumb pulls down your lower lip, parting it from the top.
“First day of your training, you walked in with your hair down,” he says. “You stood at your desk, twisting it back up before taking your seat, pen between your teeth. You were laughing at something and I” – he closes his eyes for a moment – “I was gone. I knew it right then.”
You gulp down what feels like a solid bubble of air because your mouth is so dry. “Captain Mitchell,” you say quietly. His hand tightens on your thigh at the words. “I was standing because I wanted you to notice me.”
Maverick’s gaze softens, his mouth curving upward in a warm smile as he watches you fondly. “Oh, I noticed you,” he says ruefully. His gaze dips to your mouth as his thumb continues sweeping across your lip.
You pray that he kisses you soon because otherwise you might just erupt in flames right under the midday sun. “I noticed you too, Captain,” you breathe over the tip of him thumb.
Maverick groans slightly, inclining further into the car as the side of his head comes to rest on your forehead. With his eyes closed, he rolls his face slightly, until his nose connects with yours. “Good god, I want you.”
The words ignite something inside of you and you reach out to grasp a handful of his t-shirt and pull him forward. Maverick comes willingly, his mouth crashing into yours as his knee lands on the seat between your legs. His hand drops to squeeze your shoulder on its way down to support you as you lean back over the console.
Maverick catches your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling on it gently as you let out a soft moan. His hand moves higher up your thigh until you can feel a soft pressure between your legs. His tongue drifts along your jawline as he kisses your face on his way to your ear and then down your neck. You let out a whimper when his hand starts gently stroking you over your jeans. Maverick opens his mouth over your neck, bathing your skin with his hot breath. “What I am doing?” he whispers, his grip tightening on your leg.
“Please, Maverick,” you pant, grabbing a larger chunk of his t-shirt to keep him in place. “Don’t stop.”
You feel another gentle kiss on your neck. “Couldn’t if I wanted to,” he replies breathlessly.
Part 3
A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it :D I may be adding one more part to this story so you can look out for that in the near future!
#maverick x you#maverick#top gun#pete mitchell#tom cruise#maverick x reader#pete maverick mitchell#maverick imagine#maverick mitchell#maverick fanfic#maverick x y/n#tom cruise x you#tom cruise x reader#top gun fanfiction#pete mitchell x reader#pete mitchell imagine#maverick smut#tom cruise imagine#pete mitchell x you#maverick fluff
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