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topguncortez · 8 months

Note

Ice comforting gooses sister after his death. Maybe with a touch of people blaming him for the accident

- @topgun-imagines

When We Were Young | | T. Kazansky

Masterlist | Iceman Masterlist

synopsis: Tom Kazansky isn't a man who lives with many regrets. . . but this has to be one of them, and sadly, you get wrapped up right in it.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: character death, tears, depression, angst, probably grammar and spelling errors.

note: maybe possible blurb night?? I don't have to work tonight and I actually feel inspiration:) i also did just hit 5.3k:)))

Ice felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

He knew what he did. He knew that he should’ve gotten out of there when Maverick told him. He knew that he didn’t have that shot lined up, but there was just something about Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell that got into his head and made him act reckless. And because of that, Iceman had to hold you up from crashing to the ground as you got the phone call from Carole that your brother was dead.

Ice knew that the two of you had an unbreakable bond. Your mother had passed when she gave birth to you, and your dad was in no shape to take care of you. So, it all fell onto Goose, who was just eight years old at the time. I’ve had always wished to have the type of brother-sister bond that you and Goose had. I’ve hated his siblings and wanted nothing to do with them.

Ice knew the moment that he watched Goose’s early ejection that he gone, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you. He wasn’t even sure if it would’ve been easier to hear it from him or not. Your knees had gone weak and sobs racked your body as you begged Carole to tell you that it wasn’t true. That somehow, someway the Navy had gotten it wrong. That they called and told the wrong Carole Bradshaw that the wrong Nicholas ‘Goose’ Bradshaw was dead.

When Ice decided he had enough of you sobbing uncontrollably on the kitchen he floor, he walked over to you, and gently put a hand on your shoulder.

“Baby, you need to breathe,” Ice said, as he gently pulled the receiver from your hand. Carole had long since hung up and the dial tone “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

He picked you up like you were nothing, carrying you with ease to your shared bed room for the time being. He changed you out of the clothes you were wearing, and slid on one of his Navy PT shirts, that was more of a dress than a shirt on you. He held you tightly against his chest, feeling the wetness from your eyes hit his skin. Ice ran circles up your back until the sobs faded to quiet whimpers.

--- --- ---

“They said it was quick.” Carole’s voice was barely above a whisper as you sat next to her in the day room of the barracks.

It hadn't even been twenty-four hours yet, and she had invited you to come with her to gather Goose's things. Carole wasn't sure that she could keep up a brave face in front of Bradley by herself, but you weren't sure if you were going to be much help either. It had only been about three hours since you had your last cry sesh, and you were feeling that all too familiar burning sensation in your chest again.

"I guess that's good," You muttered, looking over at Bradley who was flipping through the pages of some magazine which you weren't all too sure wasn't a Playboy.

"He was gone before he hit the water," Carole scoffed, "You know he always had a fear of the ocean ever since that trip to-"

"I know."

You didn't mean to cut Carole off, but you couldn't sit here and tell happy stories while your brother's best friend was collecting all of his things to give to his widow.

Hell, it didn't even feel right to call Carole a widow. The woman had barely turned 30.

It was silent for a moment, before Carole spoke up, "How was Ice last night?"

The sound of your boyfriend's callsign from her lips caught your attention, as you looked up from Bradley.

"Why do you ask?"

"He was in the air with Mav and Goose when. . . when it happened."

Now this was news to you.

But then you realized, you hadn't even bothered to see how this was affecting your boyfriend. Goose was the one who introduced the two of you back when he was at the academy. He tried doing the whole "older brother, stay away from my little sister" bit, but it was no use against Tom Kazansky's killer smile and your soft baby cow like brown eyes. Tom "Iceman" Kazansky was smitten from the moment he laid eyes on you and it had been history ever since.

"Did he say something to you?" You quietly asked Carole.

"I. . ." Carole started, and then sighed, "Maverick said something when he came and saw us. He said it was a mistake, that it was a stupid error. That he should've known-"

It was as if he knew they were discussing him, Iceman pulled the door to the day room open, standing in the doorway. He was dressed in his service khakis, ribbon rack and gold plating all perfectly shined. But you weren't looking at his perfectly done dress uniform, no, you were looking at the sad look in his baby blue eyes.

"Tom," Carole greeted, standing up from her chair. If there was one thing about Carole Bradshaw, it was that she was a hugger. It didn't matter if she was literally going through hell, she was going to hug you either way.

"Hi Carole," Ice greeted the woman, giving her a quick squeeze, before releasing her, "You guys been here long?" He was looking right at you, but you weren't sure what to even say to him. It had been a game of Tom Talks and you just look at him for the past couple days.

Carole looked between the two of you, before clearing her throat, "No, not long. Maverick is just gathering Goose's things," She turned to look at Ice again, "You should wait with us," She said softly to him.

Iceman nodded and walked over to where you were sitting with Bradley. The little boy smiled and reached for the man he considered another uncle. Usually, the sight of Iceman and Bradley made your heart do jumping jacks, but right now, it was as if a boa constrictor had found its way around it.

The four of you waited in painful silence, you staring at the silent movie playing on TV, until the door opened again, and Maverick stepped inside. Carole had managed to keep her tears at bay until she saw her husband's best friend.

Maverick, for lack of better words, looked like utter hell. His green eyes were full of sadness and guilt. He looked as though he hadn't slept a wink in days, and was about to collapse on the spot. In his hand, he held a simple copy paper box that had been filled with the rest of Goose's stuff. A Naval Officer had come by the day before and took all the things that rightfully belonged to the Department of the Navy.

"God, he loved flying with you, Maverick," Carole said, her voice cracking. You and Ice stood up, as Carole got out of her chair to greet him. She wrapped her arms around him, giving him a tight hug. You couldn't help the pang in your chest as he handed Carole the box.

"But he would've done it anyway... without you," Carole sighed, "He'd have hated it, but he would've done it." Maverick nodded. Carole gave him one more hug and a kiss on the cheek, before turning around and holding her hand out to Bradley, who ran to his mother in an instant. Her blues eyes looked up at you, and she gave you a sad smile, "We'll wait for you."

All you could do was nod. Leave it to Carole Bradshaw to know that you needed the truth more than anyone in this room. Once the door was shut and Carole was out of earshot, you looked at the two men standing in the room.

"What happened?" You asked.

"Baby, I already told-"

"No," You cut Tom off, and looked over at Maverick, "What happened?"

The brunette man gulped, looking quickly at Ice, before looking at you, "Ice was trying to take a shot on a boogey, but he was taking too long to get missile lock on it. I had the perfect shot lined up, but Ice needed to move out. I kept telling him to take the shot or move, but he wouldn't. And when he finally did, it was too late. We were in his jet wash. I lost control, went into a flat spin. . ." Maverick shook his head and looked at his shoes, "The ejection failed. Goose hit his head on the canopy. Killed him instantly."

Your brown eyes were filled with tears as you turned to look at Tom, whose jaw was clenched tightly, his eyes filled with regret and guilt.

"It was an accident-"

"If that's what you choose to believe," Maverick spat, "I think you were trying to teach me something and you got my best friend killed."

"I had the shot!"

"No you didn't!"

"Maybe, if you hadn't been flying so god damn close and not trying to swoop in and-"

"Oh piss off, Kazansky, you've been waiting for your moment to-

"Enough!" You yelled. Both men looked at you shocked that you had raised your voice. Compared to Goose, you were always the quiet one, sticking to stay in the corner while Goose liked to bet he center of attention.

"Baby, let's go-" Tom reached out to you, but you pushed away from him, "Y/N. . ."

You couldn't say it out loud, you were afraid of your heart would break in your chest. Instead, you shook your head and turned to Maverick.

"Take me home?"

The brown haired pilot nodded, putting his arm around your shoulders and ushered you out of the room.

Ice couldn't help the burning sensation of tears that welled up in his throat. He had heard the whispers of his fellow classmates for the past couple days. He knew what they were thinking, but to hear it said out loud, in front of the one person he didn't want knowing about what had happened that fateful day in the air, broke him. Tom knew he was already branded as ice cold, and now he was sure that he would never escape it.

Ice stood in the silent room for a moment, before turning on his heel and going back to work.

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taglist: @phoenix1388 @desert-fern @mygyn @yanna-banana @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @angelbabyange @lovelywiseprincess @pono-pura-vida @krismdavis @dakotakazansky @callsignartemis @starberryhorse @gspenc @poppyalice2001 @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @t0kyoreveng3rs @spencvrr @kmc1989 @toobouquet @malindacath

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topgun-imagines · 2 years

Text

Promise?

Requested: yes

Summary: You hear something that you're not supposed to. Ice tries to explain himself. But is he too late?

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Fighting, Allusions to smut, Bird strike, Plane crash, mentions of hospitals

Pairings: Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky x Mitchell reader

Carole laughed loudly as Goose played the piano with their son Bradley sat on top singing along. You sat on the left of Maverick with his arm thrown over your and Carole's shoulder as you all watched the two members of your dysfunctional family. “Maverick, would you go fetch him? Doesn't he ever embarrass you?” She laughed popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“Goose? Hell no,” Your brother smiled widely at his best friend. The conversation shifted as Carole brought up Penny Benjamin, the daughter of an admiral that your genius brother had made a pass at. You, Charlie, and Carole all laughed at the expense of your brother as he stood from the table trying to hide his blush from Charlie. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’m gonna go embarrass myself with Goose for a while.”

You were here to assist Viper and Charlie with teaching your brother's Top Gun class. Almost exactly one year ago you yourself were in Pete’s shoes, attending Top Gun before winning the trophy with your RIO. Arriving at Top Gun a few weeks ago you were introduced to the numerous hot shots in the class. The same night that Maverick serenaded Charlie at the bar, you yourself were growing closer with one of the other pilots.

It had all started while she was standing at the bar with her brother and Goose, listening to Goose puncture Maverick's ego by pointing out the best pilot at Top gun. Moments later a tall brunet that you knew as Slider was walking past you, trailing after a blonde before Goose grabbed him. They began a conversation which you paid little mind to, instead sipping on your drink. You paid great attention, however, when a blond walked up to your little group and grabbed one of the shot glasses that Slider held out for him. You definitely recognized him; a face like that was hard to forget. He threw back his shot, grimacing at the taste before he switched his gaze from your brother to you. Something Maverick definitely picked up on. He straitened to his full hight-which was incredibly short-and stood by you defensively, watching his new rival with a hard stare. “I’ll see you later.” He smirked slightly at you, leaving you pleasintly curious to know more about him.

“Please, stay away from him,” Mav mumbled only sparing you a short glance before turning back to Goose while they made some silly bet. Not even a minuet later they had abandon you at the bar. Rolling your eyes you ordered another drink before sitting down on the stool and drawing random shapes in the condensation on the counter.

In the corner of your eye you could see a hand reach in front of you and grab a few pieces of the bar mix. “So, you’re Mitchell’s sister huh?” The voice made you grin slightly, spinning on your stool and meeting the eyes of Leautenint Tom Kazansky.

You nodded slightly. “Also know as your superior.” He grinned at your comeback.

“Tell me you really want me to leave and I will,” When you didn’t say anything and instead nodded to the seat beside you Ice smiled again.

Spinning back, you picked up your newly delivered drink. “You’re rather cocky, aren’t you?” You commented offhandidly. Ice tossed another piece of bar mix into his mouth.

“You don’t seem to mind,” He was 100 percent right. You really didn’t mind at all. Sure, Ice may have a bit of a big ego but so did every other pilot, and if you were being honest, you really did have a thing for men in uniform.

You grinned into your drink. “Just dont be a dick and you can stay,” Chuckling quietly at your remark Ice nodded wordlessly. The two of you spent the rest of your night talking. Moments after Ice sat down you could hear your brother and Goose serenading some poor girl at the bar. A look at her closer caused you to chuckle. Ice shot you a quizzical look. With a grin, you explained that your genius brother had decided to get in the pants of your fellow instructor. Laughing along with you Ice shook his head, fully believing that Maverick would do something like that, intentional or not.

The rest of the night passed in a flash and suddenly the bar was closing. Ice walked you out to your car and grinned softly down at you when you got there. You were almost shorter than Maverick which was saying something. “I had a good time,” Sighing slightly you looked up at Ice to see the soft look in his eyes. You had a feeling he was going so say something like that.

Regardless of your internal dilemma you smiled back at him. You had to be honest with yourself, even though this could get the both of you fierd it was worth the risk. Plus, you definitely weren’t the only instructor getting to close with a student.

Ever since then, you and Ice had grown so much closer, becoming fast friends while you hopped there would be more. It wasnt hard for you to realize when you had fallen for the overly cocky blond pilot. You only hopped he felt the same.

You were brought out of your daydream by Goose calling the three of you over to sing with them at the piano. Your little dysfunctional family crowded around the three that were already there. Maverick pulled you into his right side and Charlie into his left as you put your hand on Bradleys leg and tickled him, grinning when he giggled. Singing loudly, you all laughed before finishing off the song loudly/ “Great balls of fire!”

Carole turned and kissed her husband as you pulled Bradley off the piano and spun him around while he cheered. You let him hop up on your back as your group left the restraunt. While you walked out of the door with Bradley on your back the pair of you teased the two couples around you, Bradley laughing loudly when you fake gagged as you brother kissed Charlie.

Suddenly you stopped. “Damn, I forgot my jacket. I’ll be right back, buddy.” You promised Bradley as you set him on the ground by his parents. Rushing inside you quickly grabbed you jacket from the booth and were about to leave when you heard a familiar voice.

“Come on, Ice,” you peaked around the corner seeing Slider and Ice leaning against the counter. Just as you were about to sneak up behind Ice, Slider continued. “It’s not like you’re doing anything serious with her. If anything you can get one over on Mitchell by screwing his sister.” Ice just laughed. You froze. Is that all Ice wanted to achieve with you? To sleep with you just to piss off your brother?

You were seeing red as you turned on your heel and stormed out of the diner. Plastering on a smile you picked Bradley up again, fighting the tears in your eyes as you walked away from the diner. Away from Ice.

……….

Three days had passed and you were still giving Ice the cold shoulder, doing your best to avoid him in class and completely ignoring him outside of it. He had noticed immediately, trying to get you alone so the two of you could talk about whatever had changed.

You were walking out of the changing rooms just as Ice rounded the corner. His eyes widened when he saw you and quickly rushed forward. “Hey,” He called out softly. “Can we please talk?” At this point you were tired of his words having such a stong effect on how you lived your day to day life. Sure, they had hurt, but he didn’t seem to care in the moments so why should you?

“What do you want, Ice?” He could hear how broken you sounded, no matter how hard you tried to hide it.

Ice stepped closer cautiously. “What happened?” When you didn’t say anything he continued. “We were good, perfect even, and something happened and now you barely even look at me. What changed?” Was he seriously that thick?

Shaking your head with a scoff you looked up at the blond pilot. “Do you honestly think I’m that stupid?” By this point your anger had coverd up your hurt. “I heard you and Slider the other day, Ice,” All he gave you in response was a confused expression. “Seriously Ice? I heard what Slider said. Were you seriously just trying to sleep with me so you could get one up of my brother?” Ice could see the tears gathering on your lashes and instantly knew what you were talking about. “You know what, forget about it. I have somewhere to be. I can’t do this right now.” He watched in shock as you walked away, helmet clutched tightly in your hand.

That day at the diner Ice had been barely paying attention to what his big mouthed friend was saying. So much so that when he heard the name “Mitchell” he just laughed, not at all hearing the rest of the sentence. How could he have been such an idiot?

Ice sighed, deeply regretting both what you had heard and how he let you walk away. Both times. There was nothing he could do about it now.

Up in the air, you were running a standard training exercise with one of the Top Gun teams. You tried not to let your recent conversation with Ice cloud your mind but your attempts were futile. Just under an hour later and you had finished the drill and were leading Chipper and Sundown towards the base when things took a turn.

Suddenly, you could hear the loud thud of a bird bouncing off your wing, another one hitting the windshield moments later. “Bird strike!” You called into the radio. The students behind you breaked left, narrowly missing the rest of the birds. You, However, were not so lucky. “Engine one is out,” Informing the control center, you tried to restart the engine cursing as it caught on fire as soon as you tried it. “Engine two is out. Damint, I’ve lost control!” You tried your hardest to regain control of your aircraft.

Chippers voice sounded over the radio. “Eject! Eject! You can’t save it Trip!” Groaning, you pulled the ejection handle and shot out of your plane, only consious for a few more seconds as you watched it crash into the hill.

..........

When you woke up there was an extreme pounding in your skull. Bringing a hand up you shielded your eyes from the harsh lights as you opened them. You moved to raise your other hand, feeling something weighing it down causing you to furrow your eyebrows. Looking down you suddenly felt extremely conflicted when you saw Ice with his head resting against your joint hands on the hospital bed.

The shifting of your fingers woke Ice up meer moments after you. Once he realized that you were actually awake, he shot up from the uncomfortable hospital chair and placed a hand on the side of your head. “Thank God,” He breathed quietly, pressing his forehead to yours. When he felt you tense he immediately pulled back. He began his long overdue apology. “I’m so sorry. You heard wrong, I promise you. Slider couldn’t keep his big mouth shut and I wasn’t paying attention and I swear on my life that I didnt mean to hurt you.”

You cut him off by pressing your finger to his lips, watching his eyes cross as he stared at it. Which you found rather cute. “Slow down,” you instructed him as you pulled your finger back. He nodded slightly and cleared his throat before starting again. Ice explained how he was paying absolutely zero attention to what his dimwit of a best friend was saying. He explained that he was so zoned out that as soon as he heard the name “Mitchell” he laughed. You weren’t necessarily happy that Ice was accustomed to laughing at your brothers expense but you knew it woud be the same way the other way around so you didn’t say anything.

He finished explaining himself and the pair of you sat in silence as Ice anxiously waited for you to respond. Against your better judgment, you believed him. You knew he was telling the truth, the look in his eyes proving that even further. “Promise?” You whispered brokenly.

You had never seen anyone nod faster in your life. “I promise. I swear on my life, baby.” And you believed him. You always would. Because, even though you tried, you could never deny that you had fallen for the blond haired pilot with and ego to big for his own good. But if anyone were to ask Ice, they would know just how much he loved you, which was more than you would ever know. “I love you, Mrs. Mitchell. And I promise you, I never meant to hurt you. And if I can help it, I never will again.”

His words were sealed with a gentle kiss to your forehead as the pair of you made yourselves comfortable in the tiny hospital bed. Right now, in this moment, it didn’t matter if you were his superior and it didn’t matter if you were mavericks sister. Those were both problems that you could deal with later. All that mattered was that Ice was here with you and that together, you would both be okay. Because you had each other, and thats all you needed.

#ice x reader #iceman #iceman top gun #iceman x female reader #iceman x reader #tom iceman kazansky #tom iceman kazansky fanfic #tom kazansky #tom kazansky x reader #top gun #top gun x female reader #top gun 1986 #val kilmer #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell #Maverick

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witchwyfe · 10 months

Text

post practice - tik

I pairing: college soccer player! Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x female reader

I précis: watching your bf’s soccer practice!

I content/warnings: college au, college soccer player au, fluff

I word count: 858

I a/n: prob gonna make a mini series for college soccer player ice bc he’s sooo dreamy

You watch as Ice runs drills with his team. To you, it's a wonder that he can focus so well when you're in the stands. You can't even process one paragraph from your textbook when Ice studies with you.

He meets your eye quickly, but not so quick that you don't see his wink, or the light pink that rises on his cheeks. You stand corrected.

You don't normally find yourself in the stands when Ice is practicing. Games, sure, but you didn't want to be the overly obnoxious soccer girlfriend who came to practices--you aren't, all of his teammates like you and even the coaches, who suspect the boys play better when they have an audience, even if it's an audience of one. But Ice's game this weekend is away--too far for you to even justify. So you told him you'd come to one of his practices this week.

He does not force you to come to his games, he doesn't even ask you to. The only game he ever asked you to come to was before you started dating--that was over a year ago and now you try to be a regular at all of his games.

You absentmindedly run your finger on the chain of your necklace, the one that holds your small cube shaped--ice cube shaped-diamond. It was an anniversary gift from your boyfriend, and now an everyday staple to your wardrobe.

Your economics textbook is sprawled out on your lap, but you're not really paying attention like you told Ice you would.

"I don't want to distract you from your schoolwork." He'd said after you informed him you'd be attending his Thursday practice.

"Okay, you won't." You smile evilly.

"You sure?"

"No."

He throws his head back and groans. "Angel, you shouldn't come then."

"It's fine Ice. I already finished my paper, I just have some econ homework."

He frowns, but doesn't protest when you lean on him to press a kiss to his chin.

And now, as you watch him run around in his uniform practice t-shirt and shorts, you close your textbook and shove it into your tote bag.

For the next hour you watch as Ice and his teammates run around and occasionally stop for water. When they break up and all head for the bench, Ice looks up and meets your eyes, you stand up and grab your tote bag. You make your way down to the fence that separates the field from the stadium, standing over Ice.

A few of his teammates linger, and you smile at them, reaching in your bag for the extra water bottle you brought. Ice frowns when he sucks the last of the water from his Yeti bottle, and you produce the extra.

“C’mere baby,” You coo, leaning down to pop a kiss on his mouth before handing him the water.

“Thanks angel.” He grins, teeth gleaming, before pulling the bottle to his mouth.

“Oh look, Iceman’s got his girl here!” One of his teammates, Nick, calls, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hey Goose!” You call back, brushing hair out of your face.

“Hey,” He walks up to Ice, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Sorry doll, had I known you were here, I would’ve played better.”

You snort, shaking your head.

“Stop hitting on my girl, Goose.” Ice says, rolling his eyes.

“Yours for now,” He retorts. Ice’s teammates like to rile him up, and the best way to do it, is be involving you. Nick’s act is just that, an act. You know for a fact that he’s crushing hard on a girl in your friend group—Carole—he’s told you himself.

“Ooh, I don’t think Carole would like to hear that!” You tease, laughing when red paints his cheeks. He mumbles something about having to go, then grabs his stuff. You wait until everyone else has left before hopping over the fence, tossing your tote back to the ground, then sliding down right in front of Ice.

“Jesus baby, you gotta be careful.” He chides, giving you a stern look.

You give him an apologetic smile before sliding your arms around his waist. He can’t help the smile that captures his lips as he looks at you lovingly.

“You did good today.”

“Mmh?” He hums. “You a soccer expert now?”

You nod, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, the perspiration making the usual bright blonde locks, a much darker hue.

“I should be at this point. With how many games have I sat through with you? Oh and those youtube videos, and old game footage and—“

“Okay!” He cuts you off with an embarrassed laugh, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “You are definitely an expert. And thank you.”

You chuckle and grin up at him.

“Wanna go get food?” You ask, hooking your arm into his. He nods, leaning over to kiss the top of your head.

“Then you can help me with the econ homework I didn’t finish.”

You break away from his arm and jog ahead so you can pretend you don’t hear his exasperated groan of your name.

#mine #my work #my writing #witchwyfe writing #tom iceman kazansky #tom iceman kazansky x female reader #tom iceman kazansky x you #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky oneshot #tom iceman kazansky fanfiction #tom iceman kazansky imagine #tom kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x you #tom kazansky imagine #tom kazansky fanfiction #tom kazansky oneshot #iceman x reader #iceman x female reader

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film-in-my-soul · 4 months

Text

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Summary: Maverick and Iceman become accustomed to the latter’s monthly transformations.

you're the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be | 1,961 | encyclopediabitch_jpeg

Summary: “Say it then,” The faintest smile, a tiny glimmer in an iris while Maverick grew bolder. “Damn you, Pete Mitchell,” “Say it,” “Fuck you,”

let's pretend (we've never been apart) | 2,043 | ropememory

Summary: Thomas Kazansky lays etched over Maverick’s heart, inside the circle of metal, and Maverick can only hope Ice feels the absence of the ring on his finger as much as Maverick feels the absence of Ice next to him.

(if only for today) i am unafraid | 2,127 | dalearden / @dale-arden

Summary: People have told him they love him before. A lot of girls, a couple of guys. Though it was never like when Ice said it. He’d played along, sometimes, just because he was that much of a screw up or because he needed to keep things going for whatever reason, but it had never made him feel anything before.

Where The Miles Are Marked In The Blood And Gold | 2,170 | Disastrous_Canasta / @disastrouscanasta

Summary: It looked normal. But so had his throat. His throat which had had a tumour. A cancerous tumour. So he kept staring at his elbow. Adjusting the angle, checking to make sure it seemed fine.

now I wake up by your side | 2,566 | quantumoddity / @mollymauk-teafleak

Summary: It's September 20th 2011 and Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell has something to tell the world. At three in the morning. Through a megaphone.

Ship to Shore | 2,829 | thecarlysutra / @icemankazansky

Summary: Maverick has been teaching at TOPGUN for about ten weeks when he gets a postcard. Things kind of go off after that.

love that doesn't have a place to rest | 3,375 | quantumoddity / @mollymauk-teafleak

Summary: Maverick is trying to adjust to the life of a Top Gun instructor, a life without Goose, a life spent trying to forget about Tom Kazansky. Who he's absolutely, definitely in love with. And who he's absolutely, definitely not allowed to be in love with. So he's lying awake at night, trying to convince himself to sleep and just push these thoughts away. Because it's not like Iceman's thinking about him, right?

Ever Higher | 3,468 | astolat / @astolat

Summary: Maybe he wouldn’t have thought of it on his own, but soon as he’d heard about it—well, it was fucking obvious, wasn’t it? There was no other way to keep climbing.

blood in the water | 3,735 | dangerousinlove / @gohoubi

Summary: After his cancer, Iceman finds out that going back to normal is harder than he thought.

come the same colors | 3,874 | susiecarter / @susiecarter

Summary: Maverick felt like shit. He wasn't going to make a production out of it.

wingspan | 3,896 | aelibia / @topgunreacts

Summary: Iceman is in love. Maverick is oblivious. And the only thing in the world that can bring them together is locked up in a bathroom.

and gamble for the sun | 3,954 | susiecarter / @susiecarter

Summary: It's like this: Maverick and the Iceman make bets, sometimes.

(I Love You) A Bushel and A Pallet | 4,083 | boasamishipper / @boasamishipper

Summary: "Only you, Mitchell," Ice says, "could possibly manage to get a concussion in a fucking Costco."

When the Rest of Heaven Was Blue | 7,244 | finistra

Summary: There exists, on VHS cassettes distributed through P.O. boxes, a BDSM flick in which Maverick doms a submissive Iceman. They meet at Top Gun a few weeks after filming.

A Shared Cup | 7,287 | susiecarter / @susiecarter

Summary: It was only a training exercise. It was only supposed to be a training exercise.

You're Gonna Be The One That Saves Me | 7,968 | orphan_account

Summary: Of all the inane things Maverick’s done—of all of the rules he’s broken, and all of the ways he’s risked his neck—falling for Iceman is both the most ludicrous and the most expected.

Tell Me Again | 8,805 | aelibia / @topgunreacts

Summary: Ice is a werewolf. Maverick is a hunter. They make it work.

on second approach | 9,540 | Addison R (beyond_belief) / @alakeeffectgirl

Summary: Pete Mitchell is the president of a successful aviation company, a job inherited from his father. When threats start to roll in, the board hires Tom Kazansky as his bodyguard.

Last Flight to Fairbanks | 18,806 | aelibia / @topgunreacts

Summary: Ice stumbled. A nearby tree kept him from being knocked prone, but the motion was enough to let a small amount of snow into his hiking boots. Soon the snow became water, and a future note in some pathologist’s autopsy notes: severe hypothermia, frostbite in the toes and feet. But he couldn’t stop yet. Maverick was still out there—here—somewhere, in the swirling mass of white on white on black bark. And he couldn’t lie down. Ice knew what happened to people who stopped to rest in the middle of a blizzard. They sat down, just for a moment, just until they caught their breath, and first sleep came, and then death. He had to keep going.

Dreams of Impact | 19,891 | thecarlysutra / @icemankazansky

Summary: Maverick's trip in Darkstar takes him further than he ever imagined possible.

Kings of the Air | 24,903 | FabulaRasa / @fabula-unica

Summary: Fighting and fucking: two things he did extraordinarily well. How could he have known what the effect would be when you combined the two?

When and Where | 25,210 | twowritehands

Summary: A world where people are given, through reoccurring dreams, 1 to 5 details of their soulbond. The face, the place, the day, the time, or the name. Average is 2 clues. Unlucky bastards get only 1. Lucky people get 3 or 4. No one gets all 5. Maverick is one lucky unlucky bastard. Even though it is his only clue, he knows exactly where he will bond with his soulmate: Charlie's house. But, as it turned out, Charlie wasn't the One at all. Now, heartbroken, Maverick wishes he didn't know that That House is The Place. Because Iceman just moved into it.

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#icemav #iceman/maverick #icemav reclist #reclist #top gun reclist #fanfic reclist

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delopsia · 5 months

Text

Void | Bob x Rhett x Reader

✦°．• Void Masterpost Word Count: 8,400 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Villain/Dark!AU, prophetic visions, verbal altercations & mentions of physical altercations, a dash of magic, edging, unprotected sex, comfort, themes of betrayal, heavy usage of Outer Range's hole and the ore that comes with it. Brief Summary: You are the monsters they created, and they must suffer the consequences. But first, there are more important things that must be taken care of in the bedroom.

"Because it was your fucking job!"

"It was no one's job to be an experiment!" Robert's voice bellows over top of Maverick's. A reverberating noise that crawls up the walls and dances around your ears. An echo you'd be able to shake if not for the ice that has formed in your bones. Joints frozen with something akin to fear. Equally cold but...calmer.

At peace, even.

Chestnut shoes click across the tile, each foot perfectly timed, walking to an inaudible beat so smoothly that Bob's shoulders hardly bounce with his step. "I signed up to protect my country," his index finger jamming toward his chest. Once. "Phoenix signed up to protect her country." Twice.

So many people in this room, and yet Maverick is the only one speaking. His white-knuckled fist shakes as he raises his voice once more. Barking like a dog in a fight. "Phoenix agreed to fly the mission!"

Smoke smolders in the corner of your eye. Lurking up in the rafters. But all you can look between the open switchblade clutched in Bob's palm and his audience.

This isn't how this was supposed to go.

"She didn't agree to die." The walls shiver. You know this story. Yet this feels like the first time you've heard Bob utter it. "I didn't agree to lose four years of my life!"

No, no, no, this wasn't the plan.

As unfamiliar as you are with Bob's old coworkers—no, friends, you're almost certain that the one who reaches for Maverick's arm is Rooster. The only man you recall having a mustache. Certainly, the only one who has any grounds to stop him, but Maverick isn't hearing it. Shrugging Rooster's unwanted hand away, "We tried to help you, but—"

"You had me charged with desertion!" Bob's voice booms.

Time nearly stops.

Milliseconds ticking impossibly slow as that delicate blade flies out of his hand. Intricately carved steel dancing, catching in the light of the crystal chandelier as it twists across the room. A perfect dance that never loses her momentum, darting across a path with such precision that you wonder if it was practiced.

Until it strikes home in a picture frame.

Right between the eyes of a recently deceased Admiral.

Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, the plaque reads. You don't recognize that name.

The room explodes into movement before you can reach your next thought. Maverick surging across the room. The screech of his voice masked by the yelling of nameless faces that bolt behind him. A leader of a charge. His outstretched fist vying to snap those delicate glasses in two.

Plumes of black smoke descend from above. Swift. Sweeping through the crowd with an ear-splitting howl. Gold twinkles in the air like pixie dust.

It solidifies. A vaguely human shape that strikes Maverick from behind. His muscles going taut. Falling into a full-body spasm as he falls. Face slamming flat against the tile. Blood pouring from his nose. Boots squeal as his companions skitter to a halt.

Smoke fades into fog. That vague shape now an undeniable form. Solid knee digging into the fragile space between Maverick's shoulder blades, the other, cowboy boot-clad foot firm against the ground.

"Easy, Rhett," you don't like that eerily calm tone in Bob's words.

By the looks of it, Rhett's not too fond of being called off so easily. His brows furrowed as he steps to his feet, spurs chiming as he finds his place on Bob's right side where his vision is the worst. The result of an out-of-date glasses prescription that can no longer fully correct that astigmatism of his.

"What is that?" Someone's stuttering, his feet tangling as he backs up. Blindly bumping into the shoulders of his colleagues in his effort to get away.

Rhett's head tilts, his dark eyes meeting yours, deep blue still clouded with the ore flooding his body. But he doesn't say a word. Silent as the wind on an eerily calm night.

It is not a word or a shout that shatters the silence. Nor is it the thundering of feet racing down the corridor, Naval security responding to a distress call.

No, it isn't that at all.

It's a sharp intake of air. Boots clomping against the floor as Robert stumbles backward. Heels of his palms clanking against his glasses. Groaning low in his throat as he doubles over, a guttural noise that is too loud to be in this room full of his opponent. His enemy. Streaks of black raise from his forearms, veins bulging with it.

Your shoes are ungluing from the floor. Knees cracking as you cross the room, out from your idle resting place by the door, fighting against better judgment as you shove between the bodies of nameless pilots and backseaters. Your outstretched arms reach for those shuddering shoulders. Not here. Not here. Not here.

But your hands are going through Bob's frame. Your body as opaque as water. A flickering presence that can hardly be seen by the naked eye. Why now? Why here? Of all times for your body to start slipping out of this timeline, why does it have to be when Bob's eyes are flooding with that telltale black? Frantic baby blue irises dart across your translucent face, helpless. Until they too have been taken over by darkness.

"Stay with me," Rhett's hands appear on your shoulders. A vague contact that grows as his hands darken, gold flickering through the air once more.

But that can wait. You're not going to slip out of this timeline that quickly. It's Bob who he should be focusing his efforts on. "You don't need to—"

"'s gonna be worse if you slip outta here entirely," Rhett's palms firmly squeeze your shoulders; has already gathered up every molecule of you from where it's been meandering between the folds of reality. "He'll come out of it."

Bob's shivering body bumps against yours, moving blindly, "hallway."

"What?" Your voice blending with Rhett's. Two voices, one question.

Bob's shivering mouth can hardly form another word, his weight settling against you, and the strain it puts on your knees has you fearing that you're the only thing holding him upright. "Hallway," he breathes, voice hardly audible, "the hallway. There's, there's, in the hallway—"

"Rhett!" That voice. You don't recognize it.

But Rhett does. Shoulders stiffening. Spinning on his heels so quickly that they squeak against the floor. The very first to lay eyes on the stocky frame stomping through those double doors, his face so red it could burst.

Royal Abbott.

"Rhett!" He barks once more. His clenched fist bears that same inky darkness that is spreading across Rhett's skin. And here, you'd thought he was the only member of his family born with this ability.

"Don't move," Rhett's voice is low. A borderline growl.

And he needn't say more because the room explodes into a plume of black smoke. Dancing out from his sides, swirling and twirling around your bodies, wrapping you and Bob in a misty blanket that swallows you up entirely. Plunged into a glittering darkness that puts the night sky to shame.

"We still haven't..." No, no, no, why is your voice dying in your throat? "The documents—Bobby."

His clammy cheek squishes against your temple, flimsy arms draping around your icy frame. "This isn't going to work," he mutters, words that only you can hear, "this isn't...not with Royal."

"What do you mean?" Your voice breaks, "We can't give up on this now!"

But it's far too late for a debate. Bob's fingers rise to his lips, a low whistle washing over the silence. A calm tone that doesn't match the frenzy it sends Rhett into. Across the room within the second. Darkness spreads everywhere he touches. Through the air. Across the walls. Voices yelp and shout as a dull hum grows into an ear-splitting whine—the distorted sound of a weathered gate being opened.

The floor beneath your feet is no more. But you don't feel the fall. It's as if the world ceases to exist, leaving you and Bob to float within a dark nothingness. Your legs tangle as you draw each other in, arms wrapping around torsos and heads burying into crooks of necks, desperately clinging to each other out of fear of drifting apart.

Gold flickers. A dusting of a presence that curls around your back, cold nose bumping into the back of your neck.

"Rhett?" You whisper, and despite feeling the rumble of your voice in your throat, you cannot hear your own words. Lost to the void.

The arms that coil around you are familiar, strong, and bearing scars you've traced more times than you can count. Hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt, calloused fingertips tracing letters into the sensitive skin of your belly.

I'm here.

Despite this vast nothingness, you've never felt less alone. Safely wrapped up in the arms of the only men your weary heart can trust, the only place where the world cannot flash its sharp teeth at you.

Your feet settle upon solid ground, soft carpet squishing beneath your shoes. Home once more. Where a nest of blankets sits in the corner of the couch, pictures in frames hang proudly on the wall, and an electric candle flickers next to the television.

Precisely as you left it.

"You didn't need to call me off," Rhett says, in a muttering fashion that sounds more like a rumble than anything else. "I could have handled it."

"And what if you couldn't?" Bobby's sharp voice echoes through the living room and into the kitchen. Repeating over and over until it dies into crippling silence. A cruel sort of thing that is somehow louder than the words themselves.

His weight shifts from foot to foot. Rapidly blinking. "I'm sorry, I...." his bottom lip shivers, mouth opening and closing, fighting for words that do not exist. "I can't...I can't risk..."

But his knees give out before he can finish his sentence. Dropping so quickly that you hardly have time to dive for him. Weary arms catching his waist, too weak to do anything but slow his fall. Rhett's appearing on the other side, his face long since softened. Eyelashes fluttering a million miles a second.

Black bulges from the vein on Bob's forehead, your only indication of what has once again taken over his psyche. Jaw locked so tight it shakes. Sucking in air through his teeth. Falling into a full-bodied shiver.

You don't understand. How is it happening again? "Rhett—"

"I know," he's already got his hands on either side of Bob's head. Flecks of black emerge onto his skin, drawn from the mineral trapped in the very fibers of Robby's brain. Unruly and running rampant, forcing visions behind his eyelids and threatening to take over his very being.

You know that it's been growing. That the increase of this...this thing, whatever it is, has been eating away at him. A sort of eternal hell whose violent attacks keep his muscles tight and his eyes wide open for days on end. But you didn't realize that it's been this bad. Rhett's only removed some last Tuesday, and here he is again, two weeks earlier than usual.

Bob slackens. Free of whatever invisible strings have been pulling on him, and when his eyes open, they're themselves again. Not black with the time mineral, or a muddied mixture of it, just the baby blue that is as soft as he is.

"I can't lose you," he chokes, tone suddenly frail as he looks between you and Rhett, "Either of you." His shivering arms curl around the backs of your necks, drawing you both in.

And it's easy. Sitting here on your living room floor, burying your head in the crook of Bobby's neck, your arms tight around him. Rhett's wrapping around you two like a blanket, long curls of his hair tickling your cheek. A big pile of shivering flesh and bone that defies the will of fate herself. Souls from separate timelines, trespassing in the name of a four-letter word.

You could stay here forever. Pressing endless kisses to their cheeks, like you are now. Feeling the softness of Bob's skin and the coarseness that is Rhett's out-of-hand stubble.

"How did he find you?" Bob's speaking again, albeit not very loudly. A whisper punctuated by the reciprocal smooch on the tip of your nose. "I thought you were the only one who could control the mineral?"

Rhett's quiet, his head shaking. "I don't..." pausing to accept his honorary nose kiss, face scrunching and all, "I don't know."

You don't like that answer. Not one bit.

But there isn't anything you can do about it. Not right this second, at least. For now, you've got a bigger problem on your hands, particularly named Robert Floyd.

"Think y' can get up for us?" Rhett's asking, his fingers carding through the short strands of hair atop Bob's head. Perfectly kept, as if he's still got a strict Naval standard to adhere to. It's as if he has yet to find his individuality, even after all this time.

Weak, he nods.

It's easy getting him down the hallway and into the bedroom, where the curtains are still open, showcasing that grandiose view of the valley below, distant, snowcapped mountains, and twinkling stars above. As wild as a place can possibly get when you live so far up on this lonely little mountain.

Far too isolated, but it's the only place that can ensure you'll know when someone is coming.

"Need t' try gettin' the rest of that shit outta your head," Rhett mutters as the two of you guide Bobby to the corner of the bed, where he can't possibly miss the mattress.

Your head cocks to the side, confused, "didn't you just take some?"

"I mean, gettin' it all out," he says it like it's easy, some simple walk in the park, despite having never walked that path before.

Eyes darting to Bob's fallen face, you reach to run your fingers against the curve of his cheek. Some thoughtless little motion that has him nuzzling into your palm, desperate for the warmth of it against his skin. Not enough to soothe the wrinkles on his forehead, from the way his eyebrows furrow with thought, but it's a start.

You know what he's worrying about.

And you wish you didn't.

"I don't..." his head shakes back and forth, refusing to look up at you and Rhett like your gazes will burn him alive, "how do I...if I lose the visions..." His tongue too flimsy to get the words off, all but flailing in his mouth.

"What d' ya mean?" Rhett's taking the words right out of your mouth.

Frustrated, Bobby's head shakes back and forth, unintentionally pushing your hand away. "What if something happens?" His voice cracks. Suddenly frantic. "And I can't—and I can't protect you?"

On its own, your voice finally bursts through, "We'll find a better way." And you don't have a clue what that better way is, but there has to be one out there, right?

That sudden burst of hope shatters the moment Bob's glassy eyes flash up at you. Windows into his soul that must silently communicate his thoughts with you because, by the time his uneasy mouth opens, you've already heard what he has to say. "The visions are the only way I can keep you both safe."

...but is it worth the expense of his life? Being slowly and painfully consumed by an out-of-control substance in the name of protection?

Rhett's big, wavering hands reach out, no longer stained with midnight ink, as he takes hold of Bobby's wrist, guiding it up until knuckles brush against his scratchy cheek. You can't tell who it soothes more. "It's eatin' you alive," there's a hint of fragileness to Rhett's tone, "Please...just let me try."

Now your hand is being taken hold of, squeezed up against Rhett's chest, just above his thumping heart, alive as ever. His stubble tickling as he cranes his neck down to kiss your fingers.

"Okay," Bob lets go of a breath, and it's as if the weight of the world lifts off your shoulders. His mouth opens again, but his tongue fails to produce another word. Distracted by the way he's warily holding his arms out, a welcoming invitation that you can never deny.

Hugging him feels awkward in all of the right ways. Your cheek squished against Rhett's shoulder, half bent over as you struggle to squirm onto the bed. Three pairs of legs flailing, but your arms refusing to unwind from Bobby to help.

Four years ago, you'd hopefully believed that practice would end the bumping knees, sharp elbows, and clumsy limbs that don't quite go where they were intended. Unpracticed and out of sync with the two bodies sharing the room with you. And you're almost ashamed to admit that, if anything, it's gotten worse.

Almost.

Because now there's a confidence to the way you press kisses to Bobby's sensitive neck, and you're unafraid to meet Rhett's darkened eyes as you do it. You're familiar with each other. Can tell that the hand disappearing beneath your shirt belongs to a cowboy and the knee between your thighs is attached to a former aviator on the run from the police.

You've heard the story more times than you'd like to admit, but it still feels strange. That this gentle soul could be sentenced to five years in prison, all because he and his pilot were sent to fly through a time hole that didn't spit them out until four years later. As if being given a false funeral and losing a massive chunk of his life wasn't enough.

"I can see those gears turning in your head," Rhett's suddenly right next to your ear. Sends you jumping and knocking your forehead into Bob's jaw.

"Rhett!" You squeal, but it's too late. He's already laughing. So is Bob, for that matter. All at your weary heart's expense.

Soft kisses press to your skin. The work of two pairs of lips trailing across your cheeks, Robby's working his way to your mouth, Rhett on his way to your sensitive neck, teeth scraping against delicate flesh like a warning. What that could be, you're not sure because you're silenced before you can even begin to speak.

And you're downright melting into this familiar touch, noses bumping together, moving blindly. Your hands are roaming up Bob's chest, curling around the back of his neck, clinging as you swing your leg over his waist. Straddling him is so much easier.

Dully, you're aware that Rhett has stopped; can feel the way his hungry eyes eat up every movement. The way Bob's hands grip your waist, how you sigh and tilt your head, inhaling the sweetness of cologne that still clings to him. Drowning in the small, surprised grunt when you nip his bottom lip.

Thin, bitten lips part, welcoming you like a sweetheart who's been waiting for you to come home from a long day at work. Smiling and leaning up into you, his soft tongue twisting with yours in some lazy, practiced dance that makes your head spin. Breaking away only to gasp for a breath, then meeting again.

To your right, someone whines.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby," you coo. Can already feel the way a pair of big blue eyes are drilling into you, no longer happy with just watching. But knowing what you're going to find doesn't make the pang in your chest hurt any less; Rhett's hands rest innocently in his lap, bottom lip jutted out just a smidge, eager to lean in and steal your kisses away from Bobby. "Did you feel left out?"

He hums, too content with this newfound attention to speak. Scratchy chin bumping against yours with every peck, four, five, six times, until he's been called down to steal from Bob, too.

It's times like these when you wonder how they look so similar without being related. The scruff of Rhett's jaw is a mere distraction from their matching noses. Bob's eyelashes are thinner, and his cheeks bear a dusting of freckles that Rhett only carries a sprinkling of on his back, but God, the blue gazes peering up at you are identical.

Until Bob's hips buck up against your ass.

Your gasp echoes, eyelashes fluttering, "Bobby!"

"I'm sorry," he grins, sheepish, "couldn't help myself."

But your knees are already digging into the mattress, grinding yourself back against him in such a way that you can feel his length twitch in his slacks. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you catch yourself wondering how many more times you will get to experience this. Your time is limited, cut even shorter by the furious hearts of men and women you don't know, vying to find a justice that will ultimately tear you apart.

To have Robert jailed in the name of setting an example that you cannot flee from the law.

To charge Rhett for framing his brother for his murder; who cares if he survived the attack? He lived, didn't he?

To return your weary soul to a place where friends are your closest enemies. bold enough to lock you out and leave you in the cold as some sick prank, refusing to speak your name to cover their hides.

Betrayal is a hideous thing; it doesn't start small; no, it shatters you into a million tiny pieces and asks how you could ever be so angry for what it did to you. Because you survived, and the sight of your soul bloodied and broken has made their warped heart feel a twinge of guilt. It demands forgiveness when you have none to hand out. It makes you question if you're allowed to feel these horrible things, anger and hurt, and something you can't quite name.

But these hands that roam your paper-thin skin, the delicate ones stroking your hips, and the strong ones roaming your arm...they have never made you feel so horribly. They have every reason to; they've been hurt, too, but the only thing they have ever done, from the moment they found you on the street, is love you.

"So, how's this fixing to go?" Bob asks after a long while, his head tilting as he looks up at you like he's trying to eavesdrop on the thoughts in your head.

You'd almost forgotten the ongoing plan to pull the mineral from his head.

Rhett hums, gingerly squeezing your wrist, "jus' keep doin' what you're doin'."

You needn't be told twice, thighs shivering as you scoot yourself downward. Far enough to feel the heated bulge between your legs, where you crave him the most. Don't quite recall when the heat in your core had sparked to life, but oh, does it burn brighter at Bob's groan.

The corner of Rhett's lip rises, transfixed by this show you're putting on.

Bobby's hips jerk up, pressing painfully close but so unfortunately separated by these layers of clothing. Why do pants have to exist? All they do is get in the damn way.

The two of you must have the same thought because you reach for each other's waistband simultaneously. Your practiced fingertips slide across the smooth leather of his belt, unfastening it while he thumbs at your button, yanking on the zipper. Rhett's boots thunk against the floor as he kicks them off, suddenly spurred into action at the sight of you two pulling the offending garments down your legs, underwear and all.

From the moment you're able to, you're back in his lap. Can barely think about the way that Rhett pulls your shirt over your head, too distracted by the soft glide of skin against skin. The glide of his cock against your folds, heavy and throbbing with the same need that has made you dizzy in the head.

"Ain't you two just a sight," Rhett whispers beneath his breath, never once tearing his gaze away.

"You can always join," you tease, delicate fingers reaching out to tap the tip of his nose if only to see it scrunch.

All it takes is one glance before Bob figures him out. "That devil's got a trick up his sleeve."

"Damn right, I do," now that he's moving, you regret opening your mouth. Because nothing good ever comes out of Rhett Abbott sidling up behind you, heavy cock resting against the curve of your ass, as he presses kisses to your naked shoulder. Gingerly working his way up your neck to that soft spot behind your ear.

Two of his fingers nudge at your lips, wordlessly asking for entrance that you happily grant. Tongue slipping between them, wrapping around each knuckle, lightly sucking on them in the same fashion you do his sensitive cock head. You know he recognizes it because he twitches against you, breath catching in his throat.

Bob's hands smooth up your naked thighs, the callouses of his palms catching on the sensitive insides of them, rough in the gentlest of ways. Knows what he's doing almost as well as you do, how to make you shiver and whine around Rhett's thick fingers, all from such a simple touch. He's yet to daringly reach where you crave him most, innocently roaming your body like it's a work of art.

You almost hate Rhett for drawing his hand away from your mouth, leaving it open and far too empty. But it's hard to be upset when he dips between your legs, dripping fingers dragging through your folts, across your aching clit, until he can lazily circle your entrance. Still aching from how they had their way with you in this morning, pushed to a limit you didn't know you had.

It's hard to tell who gasps louder when two fingers dip inside, your breaths intertwining into one.

"So tight already," Rhett murmurs, his voice darker than the midnight mineral flowing through his veins, "thought your poor lil' pussy would still be gapin' from us."

Bold, Bob's hand roams between your quivering legs, meeting where Rhett's fingers laz thrust into you. And you're certainly not expecting Bobby to push his finger in, too, but there are suddenly three within you. Curling to stroke at a sensitive bundle of nerves that Rhett has intentionally been avoiding.

"Soaking, too," Robby's eyelashes flutter at the way you jolt, his cock jumping against his belly. Flushed at the tip, heavy in your hand when you reach for him. You may not be able to reach Rhett right now, but you can play this game, too.

Your soft palm running up his heated skin, thumb swiping over the single beat of precum that has collected at his tip, not enough to wet him, but it makes him glisten all the same. Not quite the borderline faucet that Rhett is, making a downright mess on the back of your thigh.

Bob's other hand disappears beneath the pillow, fishing out the poorly hidden bottle of lubricant that certainly should not be hiding there. If you could see Rhett's face, you just know you'd find guilt written all over it.

For once, though, his inability to put things where he found them has made things easier. Don't have to quit stroking Bob's throbbing length as he pours the clear fluid until he's satisfied with the glide. Laziness enables more laziness.

"Do y' need more?" Rhett's fingers twitch in you, and the corners of your vision sparkle with a painting of the galaxy. Always seems to spasm after using those mythical abilities, briefly losing control of the unnamed ore that his body manufactures on its own accord.

At least he didn't make you see into the future this time.

"I think I'm alright," your tongue tingles in your mouth, difficult to move.

Their fingers pull away simultaneously, leaving you way, way too empty. But again, you've got the perfect remedy for that. Scooting up Bob's soft thighs and guiding him to meet your dripping sex, cock head kissing your loosened entrance. Their hands interlock on your hips, holding you steady; in the odd freak event, you slip up and take him all at once.

It's never happened, but they act like it happens every time.

If it has something to do with those visions, you're thankful you haven't witnessed it.

Just like how thankful you are for the gentle pressure of Bob's cock, his thick tip slipping inside for the second time today. Just big enough to make you weaken at the stretch, a whimper catching in your throat. Dragging against that bundle of nerves as he slips past, indirectly massaging against it.

Rhett's sinful hand dips between your legs once more, two fingers bracketing Bob's cock, feeling where it disappears inside.

The rain pattering against the window is the only thing you can hear; the three of you stunned into silence as you sink lower and lower on Bob's lap. Fighting to relax around him, pushed closer and closer to the border of too much when your skin finally meets with his. Flush against each other. Nothing left to take.

A shaky breath slips past your lips, heart pounding heavy in your chest. So, so full.

"You're shakin', baby," Rhett's breath tickles your naked shoulder, "needin' Robby that bad, hm?" And maybe that's why you're having such a hard time controlling yourself, shivering palms settling on Bob's sturdy chest, fighting to lift your body.

Only manage to lift yourself an inch or two before you're sinking back down, and barely able to match that when you repeat it. Exhausted muscles further weakened by the drag of his cock along your walls, rubbing right where you crave him. So good, but you can't fucking move, face wrinkling as your knees sink into the mattress, rising the smallest bit, only to fall back down onto him.

Bob's fingers swirl against your weary hips, "Having trouble?"

All you can do is nod.

Those hands rise, smoothing over your back. Only takes the slightest bit of pressure for him to draw you down into his chest. Laying against him as he digs his feet into the bed, searching for leverage.

And then he finds it, and he's thrusting up into you long and slow, and you might forget how to breathe altogether. Cheek squishing against his flushed collarbone, your eyes rolling as he does it again. Can only imagine what kind of view Rhett's got. It must be quite something because he's gone virtually silent. Watching in silent awe.

Maybe you'd be able to ask if you weren't rendered speechless by the way Bob drives up into you. Blunt tip rubbing right past those quivering nerves, punctuated by the soft smack of skin on skin, gradually quickening. Your hands are fluttering. Grabbing at the sheets. His hair. A little bit of both.

"Bobby, Bobby, Bobby," you catch yourself babbling. Don't know when your lips started moving or how to shut yourself up. It's too early to be falling apart. It's, it's...

"There you go," he's whispering in return, "does that feel good?"

Outside, thunder rumbles, the bedside lamp flickering as the wind begins to howl around the corners of the house. But you can't be brought to worry about potential power outages and how you'd clean up in the dark because Rhett's hands are smoothing up your thighs. Drawing your attention back to the way your swollen cunt spasms around Bob's length, the kind of thing that makes you shiver from head to toe.

"Talk t' him, darlin'," Rhett croons, absolutely entranced, his rough palms roaming up the soft skin of your back.

You don't even know what to say. Scrambling for words that you've forgotten the meaning of. But your fists are clenching around handfuls of the comforter as you push back against him, meeting thrust after thrust. Harder. Faster now. Bouncing your body with every soft smack.

"Come on," Bob rasps, and you've leaned back just enough to see the redness that's formed on his cheeks. He's lost his glasses, lying discarded near the pillows. Unfocused blue eyes peering down at you, eager to drink you in. "Talk to us, baby."

"Feels," choking on your words, eyes scrunching shut. Come on, come on, it's right on the tip of your tongue. "Feels good—!"

"Yeah?" That tone. Rhett's up to something, and you're too weak to look back and find out what. "Y' like it when y' get Robby's fat cock in your lil' pussy?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, your head is starting to spin, cunt clenching needlessly at his words. Can feel yourself grow wetter, downright dripping around the thick length driving up into you. And there's nothing you can do but pant for a breath you can never catch, taking every inch.

Bob grumbles this loud noise that vibrates out of his chest and into yours, "Rhett—"

"Would be a shame if he..." Before Rhett can finish speaking, Bob is gasping, stuttering to a sudden halt, "stopped."

"Quit," Bob's shuddering breath cuts him short, "Quit rubbing my balls like that."

But Rhett isn't stopping. You can feel his thumb bumping into your skin with every feather-light spiral, massaging in this frustrating sort of way that makes Bob jerk up into you. Unable to do a damn thing about this torment without hurting himself. His hot breath hitting your forehead, flushed cock still throbbing deep inside of you.

"Shit, Rhett, that..." he pants, breathless, "that...'m gonna cum if you keep..."

"A'ight," and just like that, Rhett stops.

But he's not done.

No, now he's curling an arm around you. Gingerly guiding you to sit on your haunches, your heavy head falling back against his shoulder, still full of cock. Split wide and putting on a hell of a show for Bob's darkened gaze. Especially when Rhett dips down, his fingers slipping between your folds in favor of sliding across your clit.

"Rhett," you don't know what else to see. Repeating their names like an incantation, the voicings of a weary heart desperate for a promise of forever. The one thing that the world doesn't want you to have. So unfortunate that you crave it like a fallen angel craves the warmth of the heavens.

But Rhett's hands are just as warm. Burning fingertips spiraling effortlessly around that swollen bud. Has you clenching down around Bob's cock, squeezing him up against the frenzied nerves along your walls, crying high in your throat.

"Just like that," Helplessly grabbing at his meaty wrist, squeezing until you can feel iron bone pressing back against you, "Rhett, just like...just..."

Your tongue is starting to go limp in your mouth, and somewhere between the haze settling in your senses, you catch the way Bob's eyes roll back into his head. All from the involuntary massage of your pussy, desperately chasing the way Rhett's rubbing you. Heat pools in your lower belly, sending your skin prickling.

You're...you're...

Head lolling back against Rhett's shoulder, your eyelashes flutter closed. Heart hammering against your chest, feels like the entire room has begun to spin. Can't think of anything but the soft nudge of Rhett's jaw against your forehead and his soft whisper of your name.

"Cum for us, baby," he breathes, fingers working a little faster, "come on."

And you do.

Oh, you do.

With a cry that you cannot hear, the ringing in your ears growing into an all-encompassing hum as your orgasm washes over you. Pussy squeezing around Bob's cock, chest heaving as you gasp for air, head spinning off of your shoulders and up into the clouds above. And it's warm, and it's perfect, and for just a second, you think you might be able to see a bright light in the distance of your blackened future.

But then you're coming back down all too quickly, returning to your senses just as your weary cheek comes to rest against Bob's sweaty chest. His cock slipping out of you, still painfully hard and begging for attention.

Attention that Rhett's all too eager to give him, scooting closer, collecting their flushed lengths into one oversized hand. Stroking loosely at first. Spreading remnants of leftover lube and your wetness onto himself until every motion is punctuated by a sickly squelch. Knuckles bumping into the curve of your ass, the only indication you have that he's still moving.

Bob's arms coil around you, fingers kneading into your weary flesh, has to occupy himself with something. Breath fanning out against the top of your head, swallowing down a grunt you hardly catch. It's not what he wanted, but oh, is he not complaining, bucking up into Rhett's warm hand, jostling you in the process.

"Awfully quiet down there," it's hard to tell if Rhett's remark is directed toward you or Bobby, maybe both.

Bob's trying his best to talk, his head shaking back and forth, unintentionally grants you an excellent view of the vein in his neck, flexing with the motion. "It's hard to talk when you're—fuck, when you're..." his speech stumbles into a whine, and you can feel the way his belly twitches beneath you, "God, your hand."

You can't help but lean up and press your lips to that thin skin, gingerly sucking on the vein. And so what if your free hand reaches up, two fingers pinching a pale pink nipple?

"Ah—" He damn near jumps, body bucking up into yours, "Hey!"

It's the straw that breaks the camel's back. Now that he's made one loud noise, he can't close his mouth again. A melody of breathy moans that could make anyone fall to their knees. Backed by Rhett's guttural groan, bucking up into his own hand, the meaty head of his cock bumping into you.

"I'm..." Bob's panting, "close."

Rhett stops. Not another word or warning spoken, as his big hands curl around your hips, pulling you up onto your knees, ass up for him. You already know what's coming, but you're hardly prepared for the aching stretch of his cock pressing into you. The glide smoother than before, still stretched and open for him.

"Again?" You squeak, voice punched out of you by the smack of his balls against your oversensitive clit. Not ready for another cock to fuck into you just yet, but he's already moving. Short, jerky thrusts punctuated by the exhausted wetness of your pussy, sent into a spasm of flutters around him.

Below you, Bob grumbles, "You don't have to tease me for this to work."

"I know it," you can hear Rhett's wild grin distorting the corners of his words, "but it's more fun this way, ain't it?"

His cockiness is short-lived. Karma, you suppose. Because he's leaning down, his body caging yours. Rutting into you a little quicker as he buries his face in your shoulder, muffling those soft grunts until he's stuttering to a halt, cumming in you with a garbled cry. And you're just lucid enough to feel the twitching of his cock, the heat that fills the deepest parts of you, pumping you full until he has nothing left to give.

"Couldn't help yourself, could you?" Teasing, you tilt your head to look back at him. Wasn't quite anticipating him to be leaning in for a kiss, but the shallow peck is a welcomed gift.

Rhett's quiet until he draws out of you, leaning back on his haunches to get a look at the mess he's made of your cunt. His cum already beginning to leak out, threatening to stain the sheets again if you aren't careful.

"Look so pretty when you're full of us," he muses aloud, and before you can open your mouth again, he's nudging into you again.

Or is that...no, that's Bobby, who's sinking into you. A shiver wracking down his spine as Rhett guides him back inside the absolute mess they've made of you. Cum and sweat, and lube coming together to create this sickly noise that makes you shudder.

"Am I hurtin' you?" Bob's gasping, the edges of a Texas-born accent audible, and you genuinely don't know what you would do if he always spoke like that because it's enough to make you bite back a moan.

"I'm alright," reassuring both yourself and him at the same time.

That's all he needs. Jerking up into you without abandon, arms squeezing you tight to his chest, anchoring you to his overheated body. The softest sounds drifting from his lips, punctuating his every shallow thrust. But just as quickly as he started, he's tipping over the edge, stalling to a halt with a noise you can only describe as strangled. Filling you once more until you don't think you can possibly let them between your legs for a minimum of forty-eight hours.

You've hardly got the strength to lift yourself off of him, collapsing to his left. They're leaking out of you, coating your thighs in a sticky mess that you have no hope of cleaning on your own. Not in this century.

By the looks of it, Bob might be able to join you for a nice, hundred-year nap. His half-lidded eyes staring up at the ceiling, hardly reacting to the two fingers you're walking across his chest.

But he reacts when Rhett's rough hand wraps around his spent length—jolting, wailing, as Rhett's empty hand rises to press against his forehead. Wicked thumb massaging over that flushed, weeping cock head, right where Bobby is most sensitive. Sends him into a full-bodied tremor.

"Sen—sensitive!" Tears roll down his flushed cheeks, speech devolving into something incoherent.

The hand on his forehead darkens. Drawing some nameless black ore from the depths of Robert's overworked brain. Cruel, how such a thing can be such a gift to one man and a curse to another, destroying and building up innocent bodies without rhyme or reason.

It runs out. That steady stream of midnight fading away in wriggling splotches until it's no more. And it still might not mean the end of those visions. There's no way to tell if there's more hidden somewhere in his body, or worse, it may have begun to manufacture itself like it does in Rhett. Running rampant for eternity.

But right now, there's no more, and Rhett's letting go of his abused length, and you're both leaning in to press kisses to his clammy cheeks, and it's the closest thing one can get to perfection. Your exhausted mind can hardly find the energy to return to what happened earlier.

A discussion for tomorrow.

"Are you okay?" You whisper somewhere around when he stops shaking. Calm at last.

He hums. The best that you're going to get.

And he's quiet like that for some time. Virtually silent, reduced to grunts and offhanded chuckles when you decide it's time to clean yourselves up before things start to dry in places they should not. Three pairs of legs stumble down the hall and into the bathroom; Rhett's arms are full of clothes, you're fumbling with the hot water, and Bob's simply glued to your side.

"Pink or purple?" Rhett chirps, and you don't need to look to know that he's reached under the sink and picked up a handful of bath bombs. He'd use them all at once if you'd let him.

Without a word, Bob points to the pink. Conveniently, it's also the bomb with a toy capsule hidden inside. A mystery that will surely join the small shelf of collected surprises above the towel rack.

Somewhere between the fizzing of the bomb and a sneeze that nearly sends Rhett falling into the bath, Bob grabs both of your hands. Toying with your fingers as if amused by their shape and varying sizes. How Rhett's hands are massive even compared to Bob's, and how soft yours are.

"Do you think you got it all out?" He asks after a long while. Breaking whatever silence had fallen over the room.

"Felt like I bled y' dry," Rhett hums, his foot kicking against yours, vying to start another water fight, "but there ain't no tellin' this early."

That doesn't seem to be the answer Bob was looking for. Hell, it certainly isn't the answer you want to hear, either, but what can you do other than wait?

A clear capsule rises to the surface, bouncing with its excitement to be seen and opened. A small yellow duck with a misprinted eye that has left one half of its head coated in black.

"Looks like someone turned Rhett into a duck," Bobby chirps, twisting the adorably shaped hunk of plastic in his fingers. And now that he says it out loud, it does look like Rhett when he uses his abilities. Whatever they're meant to be called.

The duck travels into the bedroom, one way or another. You find it sitting on your pillow, staring back at you with its singular eye like it's been employed to keep an eye on your whereabouts while Bob fusses with the security system. Motion detectors and alarms galore, monitoring every room and entry point that could possibly exist.

They act like there will come a day when someone breaks in, and you hope it's a measure fueled by worry rather than a vision detailing the worst.

But tonight isn't that night. No, just one of tangled legs and kisses pressed against sore skin and muscle and mumblings about plans of getting back into the Naval base. Get ahold of those documents that narrowly slipped through your fingers earlier. Copy and replace them before anyone is the wiser, keeping the originals as evidence of what happened. The only truth that can possibly force them all to acknowledge what they did to Bobby and his old pilot, Phoenix.

You wish you'd gotten the chance to know her before the hole took her life. Bob's recount of her always makes her seem like such a lovely woman.

"We can do it for you too, you know," he says, and you know he's directing it toward Rhett, because the evidence of the crime against you has already been collected.

The security footage of so-called friends locking you out in the cold, some grand plan to get back at you for forgetting to reserve the first cabin. A little "Oops, it's annoying to be forgotten, isn't it?" that left you stranded in the worst blizzard the state had seen in decades. Wandering through a perpetual blanket of white until a hole opened up beneath your feet and swallowed you up.

To think that they tried to cover up what happened to you, in the same fashion Rhett's family did to him, by pretending it never happened. Everyone in the house had simply forgotten the past twelve hours. No, we don't know what happened to them, officer; they just disappeared!

"I know," Rhett's cold nose nudges your shoulder; you'd almost forgotten that he curled up behind you, "wanna enjoy Perry in prison, a lil' longer."

Your fingers reach to run through Bob's damp hair; need something to do."Are you still showing up in the cell to scare him?"

"Absolutely."

The air is silent.

And then the three of you devolve into a giggle.

The drone of the city is one that swallows you up before you've even stepped foot into it. Flashing lights, squealing horns, and clashing of voices. People. Individuals with their own stories, purposes, and meanings in this world, crossing paths for the briefest moment, on their way to a better destination.

You are surrounded by more people than you can count, yet you might as well be invisible. A ghost that can be stepped through, only visible to a select few.

Rhett's hand squeezes yours, and it's the most solid you've felt in weeks. Maybe it's the kind of curse that applies to more than one. The three of you seemingly frozen in time as the world bustles about, never stopping for a second because the world does not stop for just anyone.

But it will soon.

God, you hope it stops on a fucking dime. Sends everyone reeling, a sucker punch flying in somewhere from behind. Rattles everything they've ever considered about themselves, the people around them, the higher power above, the world itself. Because America tells you that the only things worth knowing are those which can be known.

America is wrong.

You are worth knowing.

And you want them to hurt like Rhett did when his brother picked up his fists and beat him into the ground because how dare anyone make a simple comment about moving on. To feel the complete and utter betrayal to wake up to your father throwing you into the unknown, uncaring of how you plead for your life. Promises that you won't tell anyone what happened.

You want them to lose like Bob did when he and Phoenix were deceived. Convinced to climb into the backseat of that F/A-18, not knowing they were about to be sent through a hole that wasn't just some silly illusion. To be struck by an unknown substance that kills their best friend and forces them to suffer violent visions.

Return home after five years to find that you have been given a false funeral, your possessions no longer remain, and the Navy is accusing you of desertion. Any other way would force them to explain what happened, and a ruined life is worth the price of secrecy.

You want them to know what it's like to be betrayed by those they trust the most. Left for dead and not be given the grace of having their names plastered in the paper. Reduced to just another faceless person. A tragedy for one day, forgotten on the next.

Your eyes dart to the small phone in Bob's hand. It doesn't hurt to look at it anymore—no more bubblings of memories or invisible nippings of frostbite at your skin. It's just a cheap phone meant to do its job, and that is all.

Rhett looks to Bob.

Bob looks to you.

You look back at them.

Together, you smile. There's no going back from this, and that's okay. You are the monsters they created, after all. Bob's finger taps the crudely designed button on the phone.

Every screen in the city lights up with the same video.

Oh, what could have been.

#void au #rhett abbott #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #oneshot #smut

81 notes · View notes

justfandomwritings · 2 years

Note

I have been devouring your content for the past few days and let me say: your writing is absolutely AMAZING! The way you write Jake is just chefs kiss. Jake and Addie are my new OTP

That said, I have read everything you have written about these two, the fic and all the OTP questions as well. But I have this very specific itch that will not leave me alone which you kind of touched on in one of your asks. What do you think Addie would be like if Jake got into an accident while flying? Nothing major obvs, but maybe a really bad scare?

No Callsigns

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Female!Reader (Addie)

Word Count: 3.1k (Idk how that happened)

Warnings: whole thing takes place in a hospital, panic attack, character is seriously injured but the injuries are not described in any way, some light angst but with a happy ending

Notes: I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but this little scene has been playing around in my head for a long time. This is Addie reacting to Jake being injured, but it's not really an angst heavy introspective of how it makes her feel. It's more how it would play out.

This is a prequel to The Only Thing, but it can be read without reading the only thing. This story takes place before Jake goes to Top Gun the first time as a student but after he becomes a pilot.... Also Featuring Iceman and Coyote because why not.

“Seresin residence, you’ve got Addie.” Addie tucked the phone between her cheek and her shoulder to free up her hands as she turned back to the sauce bubbling away on the stove.

It was Thursday night. Thursday night meant family dinner in the Seresin household, and the girls, Addie included, took turns rotating who cooked. Normally, it would’ve been Ronnie’s turn, but she was back in Austin studying for an organic chemistry final. Which meant it should’ve been Andy’s turn, only Andy was off in New York at a high school friend’s bachelorette party. Which meant it should’ve been Debbie if not for the fact that Debbie’s sister was in town and demanded the two go to the city for the night.

Kate had offered to order the two of them Chinese food so neither had to cook, but Addie had been perusing the Seresin family recipes again and decided it was time to try her hand at Debbie’s world – or at least county – famous marinara sauce.

Things were shaping up quite nicely before the phone began to ring.

“This is Admiral Tom Kazansky, US Pacific Fleet Commander. I’m calling to speak to Miss Debbie Seresin.”

Addie’s back straightened involuntarily. The wooden spoon in her hand slipped lower in the sauce as her grip on it loosened.

“She’s not in at the moment...” Addie didn’t really know what to say. “Can-Can I take a message?”

There was a quiet sigh on the other end of the phone. So quiet she almost missed it. So quiet she almost missed the melancholy coloring its’ tone. “Unfortunately not. Do you know how long until she’ll be back?”

The man’s voice didn’t turn up at the end the way one normally would to indicate a question. It stayed flat and even, like he didn’t have the energy to raise his voice, or perhaps more likely that the words were too heavy, too weighed down to be lifted up in any way.

“W-What happened to Jake?”

It wasn’t a question she was supposed to ask. Addie knew that. She’d had that talk with Jake before.

If something happened to him, she would have to find out from Debbie. The Navy didn’t exactly recognize ‘besties’ as a category for immediate disclosure. If he got hurt… or worse, the Navy would call his mom until he had a wife or kids.

“Pardon?” The high-ranking admiral on the other end of the line was, no doubt, not used to being questioned.

Addie wasn’t supposed to ask, wasn’t supposed to cause a scene, wasn’t supposed to stick her nose in. Jake had made it very clear that, much as he wanted them to tell her, much as he didn’t want her to find out second hand or have to wait for news, much as he loved her, the Navy would make her wait. She would have to wait, not on him, never on him, but certainly on them.

But Addie couldn’t help it. When Jake told her all those things, told her that if she ever got a call she would have to get ahold of his mom, told her that she shouldn’t barrage whoever called with questions, told her that she would have to get any news after the fact, told her to be on her best behavior if something really bad ever happened and someone important made the call… When he told her that, he’d never been on the receiving end.

He’d never felt his throat close up knowing that best case scenario she was in an ICU bed somewhere. He’d never gone weak in the knees when someone told him they could neither confirm nor deny that she was dead. He’d never spent hours waiting by a phone with the news blasting over loud speakers knowing she was going into a combat zone where she could be killed any second, knowing the six o’clock news might be told before him.

Jake had never gotten a phone call from someone telling him she was dead or dying, and he would never have to worry about getting that phone call, not really. And she knew without a shadow of a doubt that if their roles were reversed he would be so much worse.

“You’re a Fleet Commander; you wouldn’t be calling un-unless some-something really bad happened to Jake.” She felt out of breath, like she’d run a mile. Maybe it was the way her throat felt like she was breathing through a straw.

“Ma’am I’m not at liberty to discuss that with anyone other than Lieutenant Seresin’s next of kin.”

There was a loud crack followed by the sound of breaking glass. The salad bowl, balanced on the kitchen island behind her toppled to the ground and shattered as she stumbled back.

Next of kin. He was looking for Jake’s next of kin.

Addie gasped for air. “Is he alive?” Her words came out in a pant.

“Ma’am…”

She didn’t hear any more than that as Kate burst into the room.

“Addie, what’s…”

Addie was hyperventilating now. A hand on the island behind her, gripping the granite so hard her nails were cracking under the pressure, was all that kept her from sinking to the ground, unintentionally kneeling in the shattered glass around her.

Her hand pulled the phone away from her ear and waved it blindly in Kate’s direction as she desperately tried to catch her breath, tried to steady her shaking legs, tried to calm herself down.

“Who is this?” Kate’s tone was demanding, accusatory as she snatched the phone away from Addie. There was a brief pause as Kate’s face contorted. She clearly wasn’t getting the answer she wanted, or an answer at all.

“This is his sister, Kate. Now tell me who is calling, and why does Addie look like she’s having a panic attack?”

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

“Addie?”

Addie’s head jerked up at the sound of the name.

It was a pilot calling her. She recognized him immediately. One of Jake’s friends, the only Navy friend of Jake’s she’d met so far.

“Coyote, right?”

Coyote nodded and crossed the room in long, sure strides to stand beside her chair. There were seats open all around her, but he didn’t make a move to occupy any of them. He stood, feet shoulder-width apart, hands tucked behind his back. There was no rocking or shifting to his stance like there would’ve been a civilians, no pacing or show of emotions. He was soldier.

“Your Jake’s wingman?” Addie pulled her legs up into the seat with her, hugging them against her chest as she stared up at the man standing over her.

“Yes ma’am,” Coyote wasn’t looking down at her. He was looking straight ahead at some unknown point on the waiting room wall.

“Please don’t call me ma’am. You can call me (Y/n), or Addie, whatever you prefer.” Addie sighed, slumping back in the chair to stare up at the ceiling. “I’m not old enough to be called ma’am. Jake calls me ma’am when he says I’m being a buzzkill.”

“From the stories Jake tells me, ma’am, that can’t be often.”

Addie’s eyes flashed back from the ceiling, just for a second, to see the corner of Coyote’s lips tugging up. He suppressed it well, but the amusement was still there. “You’re not much of a buzzkill either from what he tells me.”

“I try not to be.”

There was an amicable silence for several long moments. Coyote standing vigilant, staring at the wall behind her head, Addie tracing patterns in the ceiling with her eyes.

It was Coyote who broke it. “Are they… not allowing visitors yet?”

“They let his mom and Kate back about ten minutes before you got here.” Addie quickly corrected. “Two at a time. I let them go first.”

“Would you mind if I came in with you?” Coyote’s tone was constantly polite, deferential. It fit with the military man she knew he was, but she couldn’t reckon it with the stories Jake told her about his friend who seemed like absolute mayhem. “I know you’ll want some time alone with him. I’ll only need a minute. I just need…”

Coyote’s voice fell away, choked on a word Addie wasn’t sure which. It drew her eyes back from the ceiling, tilting her neck down to a more reasonable angle to look at his face.

Coyote’s gaze finally left the wall. It was like watching him pull himself together, draw up the courage to meet her gaze not that that made any sense. “It’ll only take a minute. I need to thank him, ma’am.”

“Thank him? What for?”

Coyote visibly swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, but he made no other display of emotion even as he said, “Because, ma’am, I would be dead right now if he weren’t in that bed.”

A dawning realization crossed Addie, her jaw going slightly slack. “The medal… You’re the pilot he...”

“Yes ma’am.”

Addie gave a thoughtful nod. Much as it hurt her, pained her, filled her with overwhelming dread to think of Jake lying cooped up in a hospital bed, Commander what’s-his-name had painted a marvelous tale of heroism for Debbie once she finally returned home, and he told her the story.

And now she had a face and a name to put to the ‘fellow aviator’ whose life Jake had saved. A face she knew, a name she liked, a nice guy with his whole future ahead of him because of Jake’s skill and sacrifice.

“Of course,” Addie choked out, “you’re welcome to come in with me.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Coyote’s head turned back up to face the wall. He was only staring at it, and she was only staring at him, for a minute more before the doors behind him swung open.

“Addie, sweetie,” Debbie crossed the room in a flash of worry seeing yet another Navy uniform standing in front of one of ‘her own’.

“Debbie, this is Coyote,” Addie jumped straight to introductions even before she made it to her feet. “He’s going to come inside with me to see Jake for a minute if that’s alright. He is Jake’s wingman.”

Kate approached behind her mother, sticking out her hand to the aviator, “It’s Javy, right?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Debbie hugged Addie, ignoring Kate as she seemed ready to vet Coyote before allowing him entrance. “He’s doing a lot better than he looks,” Debbie whispered in Addie’s ear, hiding her voice in the tones of Kate and Coyote’s polite small talk in the background. “Really, the doctors say he’ll be his usual handsome self in no time and back to flying in a couple months. Don’t worry yourself to death, okay sweetie?”

“I’ll try not to.” Addie’s tone was as clipped as she felt.

Debbie pulled out of the hug and jerked her head towards the door. “Get on in there; you look like you’re barely stayin’ in your skin you wanna leave so bad.”

Addie nodded. She clearly wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding the fact that she was ready to bolt.

“They made Jake sign a couple waivers for you,” Kate added before Addie could leave. “But it should all be sorted out now. They all know you’re staying the night and to talk to you.”

“Thanks Kate.”

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

“Jake,” Addie’s voice broke on his name as she froze in the doorway.

‘He’s doing a lot better than he looks.’

He didn’t look good.

Hospital gown slung low around his neck with wires running down under the fabric, needles poking from IV bags into one arm, head lulled back against a pile of uncomfortable looking pillows, an oxygen mask hanging loose around his neck, and a bag partially filled with what could only be urine connected to a tube that ran up under his thick pile of blankets.

The air was filled with the smell of chemicals and the constant beeping of a heart monitor.

“Addie,” Jake croaked out. His voice was rough, deep and crackling as if he’d been screaming nonstop for days which she knew he hadn’t.

Addie couldn’t help it. She flung herself across the room to his bedside. She’d not said a word about waiting for Debbie to get back from the city to find out what had happened. She’d not said a word while they waited in the airport for the first plane out to the base. She’d not said a word waiting for the taxi to the hospital. She’d even held herself back to let his family see him, knowing she wouldn’t be able to leave once she was in the room.

But now that she was in the room she couldn’t hold herself back. She balanced herself on the free inch of space at the edge of his bed and gave in to the absolute panic and desperation that had been warring quietly inside of her since the moment she managed to swallow them down in his family’s kitchen.

One of her hands reached across his body and clutched his left hand in a vice grip. It was almost the only inch of skin free of any signs of what happened. Her other went straight to his cheek, cupping it in her hand as the tears finally began to fall.

“When that admiral called I thought for sure you were dead.” She didn’t sob. Her voice was soft, calm, and unwavering even despite the tears. “I was so scared. I broke your mom’s favorite bowl. I couldn’t form a sentence; Kate thought I was in shock.”

Jake sighed and leaned his cheek into her hand. The rough cuts and scratches to the skin there brushed against her palm and reminded her that every part of him would be effected by this in some way. “You’re gonna have to try a little harder if you wanna get rid of me, darlin’.”

Addie smiled through the tears and leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss, barely more than a brush of her lips, to his forehead. “Noted, next time I’ll do it myself.”

“I always knew you’d be the death of me.”

Addie chuckled and turned her face into his neck. Her temple brushed against his shoulder, and Jake winced. “Sorry.” She pulled back immediately.

“It’s alright, Addie,” Jake smiled up at her. Even his smile was scarred. His lip split in more than one place along it’s usually silky smooth lines. “Having you here makes up for it.”

“Well in that case, you should know I brought a friend.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Jake tried to laugh but immediately winced at the motion shaking his chest, “I only wanna see you.”

“I know,” Addie conceded easily and without any show of false modesty, “but I think you need to see him too.” Her fingers went to his hair, absently brushing the sweaty, greasy flyaways out of his face as she glanced back over her shoulder.

Coyote stepped in from where he’d been standing in the doorway. Jake’s senses, usually razor sharp, hadn’t so much as gotten a whiff at the other pilot. Whether that was due to his current state or the all-consuming peace that visibly washed over him the moment Addie walked in the room, no one could be sure.

“Hangman, I…”

“You don’t get to call him that here.”

It came out with more bite than Addie meant it to. She hadn’t intended it to have any at all, in fact. She’d only meant to say it matter-of-factly, but the emotions boiling up inside her simply could not be contained when she heard that callsign, that word.

“It’s fine, Addie.”

“No it’s not.” Addie looked to the floor to try to hide the glare that was forming in her eyes, but her words didn’t need an accompanying glare to convey how upset she was. “His name is Jake, and he wouldn’t be here if he hung you out to dry.”

“Addie…” Jake’s tone was placating.

“She’s right,” Coyote cut him off. “I’m sorry… Jake, I came here to thank you not insult you.”

Jake looked up at Coyote, utterly shocked. They were friends, certainly, but no one, not even his friends, had batted an eye when his squadron assigned him his callsign. No one batted an eye using it every day. No one ever questioned if he deserved it.

“You saved my life today, Jake, and I can never repay you for that.”

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

Addie couldn’t lay down with Jake in the hospital bed, much as it would have been both of their preference.

The nurses had spotted her sitting back against the pillows with him in the early evening hours and immediately put a stop to that and any other notions of Addie getting on the bed.

Instead, she’d shuffled the uncomfortable plastic couch in the corner up against the bed in what she was sure was a safety violation but could not have cared less at that moment in time.

The couch was much lower than the bed, but it was close enough that she could curl up and still reach a hand up to hold Jake’s.

“You didn’t have to do that today, Addie.” Jake murmured into the absolute stillness of the night.

The rest of the floor seemed to be asleep, even the beeping of his heart monitor had seemingly faded to a background drone. They were, at that moment, in the silence of the hospital and the darkness of the night, the only two people in the world.

“Yes I did,” Addie countered in a similarly quiet voice.

“Addie, they call me Hangman for a reason.” Jake gently pushed back. “I don’t like to admit it any more than you, but I earned that name. I hang them out to dry in training every day, and if it came down to it in a fight I probably would hang them out then too.”

“You didn’t though,” Addie reminded him quietly. “When the cards were down, you risked your life to save his.”

“And I almost didn’t make it.” Jake didn’t need to remind her of that. The awkward position holding hands through the railing of his bed did a fine job of that. “When I did it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. How you met Coyote, how you liked Coyote, how you joked that the two of you would be really good friends one day… and I thought… I thought, ‘I have to go for it.’ For you.”

Addie’s hand tightened her grip on his, giving him a reassuring squeeze, “Well, that’s… morbid.” She propped an elbow on the back of the couch and lifted her head just over the edge of the bed to give Jake a teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood, “I guess I’m just only allowed to meet friends you’d be willing to die for.”

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1c3m4n · 4 months

Text

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky.

WARNINGS: sadness, death, Jeeps, pessimistic author, Ice being cute, mentions of Wham!

Iceman. He’s your big teddy bear of a best friend. He’s the one who’s been there for you since before Top Gun. And in your moment of need, he was there. He called to you.

Like the ‘You came.’ ‘You called.’ type relationship applies to the two of you. And you couldn’t possibly be more happy about it. It’s Tom, who’s gonna complain?

Until tonight. When you weren’t the one who initiated a call.

— —

You’re on a date with some Army guy. You’d met him at the O Bar, which is ironically a Navy dive bar. He had intrigued you, and you figured you’d give a shot.

That is until you hear your phone ringing in your pocket. And the ringtone ‘Cold as Ice’ by Foreigner no longer sounds so threatening.

Naturally you excuse yourself to take the call. When you answer, there is nothing but sobbing on the other end of the phone. Tom’s crying.

He never cries.

You immediately begin to worry. “Tom? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You hear more choked back sobbing as he tries to catch his breath. “M-My dad… he… he’s in the hospital. He got in some accident a few minutes ago. I’m his emergency call.”

“I’ll be there. Give me 5 minutes.”

“But… aren’t you on a date?”

“You’re more important than that Army dickhead. He’s not my type anyways. I’ll be there. Be ready.”

“I’m almost to the hospital.”

“Great. I’ll be there in 2 then.”

You rush back in to hand your date money. Then you rush to your car. You rush to the hospital. You see his Jeep CJ5 sitting in the parking lot. It needs a new paint job. Poor thing is only 6 years old and already needs new paint.

Regardless of his paint job. You slipped your heels off and ran into the hospital. Frantically looking for Iceman, you spot his frosted tips.

You rush to his side and he just pulls you into a hug. “Thank you for being here.” The only words he mumbles for a while. And they are mumbles right into your hair.

You simply wrap your arms around him comfortingly. He seems to almost melt to your skin as he feels your touch.

“Where else would I be, Tom?”

— —

About an hour passes. Waiting in the emergency room. Waiting for news of his father’s fate.

He hates his dad. Well… he thought he did. His dad was terrible. He neglected him and refused to give him any sort of fatherly love unless his son was perfect. And that’s why Iceman is well… Iceman.

(A/N: it’s about here that I started listening to Inertia by AJR)

The sentence you had said before… ‘Where else would I be, Tom?’ It really sat in his head for a while. He had never felt more loved and appreciated than that moment. With you in his arms.

Finally a nurse walks out. She asks for family of his father. Tom steps forwards. He says it’s him and you. She asks how you’re related.

Tom realizes that you’d have to be daughter-in-law or an actual daughter to go back and see him.

“She’s my wife. That’s the relation.”

You play along. It’s pretty easy to fake marry Tom. He makes love seem so easy. And every girlfriend he had seemed to break his heart so roughly each time. The only girl he seems to trust anymore is you.

And you were honored.

The nurse sighs and takes a deep breath. You know where the sigh was going.

“Mr and Mrs. Kazansky. I’m afraid to inform you that your father has passed. He lost too much blood in the accident and he didn’t even make it through the surgery.”

Tom’s world shatters.

He looks at you. And then he looks back at the nurse. He has tears that immediately start to fall. He wipes his tears and gently leads you to his Jeep.

He gets in the back seat of the car. And immediately he begins to break down.

“I never even got to know his last words… I never… never got to tell him that I loved him…”

You wrapped your arms around him. He just curls up. Which is surprising to see just how well a 6’0 very in shape pilot can fit in the backseat of a 1980 Jeep CJ5. But he manages.

He shoves his face against your neck, just breathing in your sweet smell of Cherry Coke and the mint from your gum. Or maybe it’s the mint from his gum?

“Thomas. He knew you loved him. And you don’t have to worry about letting him down. Because I’m sure he died happy knowing you tried your damndest.”

You gently put your thumb under his chin. Tilting his face up so you can see, you offer him a kind smile.

“I’m proud of you, Commander Kazansky.”

You press a kiss to his forehead and he almost just melts. Then it hits you.

This is what love feels like. Right? The giddy feeling you get when you’re so close to someone and their presence alone can bring a smile to your face?

That’s love? Right. That’s love. No more questioning it. You’re in love with Tom.

But pick a better night to say something. Please, dear Y/N. Pick a diff-

“I love you, Tom.”

You mf.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

(A/N: another music swap happens here. To Brazil by Declan McKenna)

— —

Sometime within the next hour, he falls asleep in the backseat of the Jeep. So you have to find his keys in his pockets. Which is sort of uncomfortable to do.

But you rummage around his jacket pockets for a second to no avail. So you reach for his front pocket and he brushes your hand away.

He holds up his keys.

“Front left pocket, Sweetheart.”

You just smile and shake your head. You take the keys from him. Well, you try. He ends up stretching and getting in the front seat.

“You need to drive your car home, Y/N. I can drive myself.”

“I’m coming home with you, Tommy. As if I’m letting you drive on your own.”

He just smiles and nods. He puts the keys in the ignition and lets the engine turn over and the engine finally starts up.

You yawn, leaning your head against the window. It’s gonna be a long drive. And you know he’s gonna head back to his housing on the base. He hates actually going home.

Too many bad memories reside there.

So you sleep the entire hour drive. And when you wake up, you’re in Ice’s bed. And he’s in the shower.

And you hear music. You can’t quite make out the words, so you try to listen to the melody.

The song? “I’m Your Man” by Wham!

#top gun imagine #top gun fluff #top gun 1986 #top gun iceman #tom kazansky #tom iceman kazansky #fluff #top gun angst #angst #y/n #man’s in love #pessimistic author is a good thing

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rebelliousstories · 5 months

Text

25 Days of Ficmas 2023

Here we go again! Ficmas 2023 will officially begin Friday December 1st, 2023. I’m really excited to add in some new characters and revisit some old ones. Without further ado, here is your 2023 Masterlist.

Hope (December 1st) Bernard the Elf

The head elf is down in the dumps, and nothing can bring him out.

Childhood (December 2nd) Poly! Lost Boys

It’s Christmas time in the cave, and the Lost Boys mate is making sure that nothing ruins it for Laddie. Nothing and no one.

Elf (December 3rd) Louie Pointe du Lac

Claudia wants to partake in the Christmas cheer and dress up for their party. With her dad’s otherwise occupied, she employs the help of the only other woman in the home.

Poinsettia (December 4th) Selina Kyle

A little Christmas cheer in their dreadful New York apartment.

Stockings (December 5th) David

This was NOT what he had in mind when someone mentioned “stockings.”

Egg Nog (December 6th) Paul

Someone really should have told Paul not to drink an entire thing of egg nog before deciding if he liked it or not.

Through The Years (December 7th) Poly Louie & Lestat

Settling down on the couch, Lestat and Louie entertain their ladies with tales of their Christmas celebrations through the years.

Candles (December 8th) Tom “Iceman” Kazansky

Tom doesn’t allow a lot of personal items in his office on base, much preferring to keep his loved ones close to his heart. But he had to have a little something.

Festive (December 9th) Jack Twist

A snowy day at the ranch is the perfect setting for some winter, holiday fun.

Naughty/Nice (December 10th) Jake Gyllenhaal

The question everyone has to ask themselves every December; are you naughty or nice?

Pine cone (December 11th) Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Jake decides that he is going to show his girlfriend the lovely Seresin family holiday tradition of making a pine bonfire in the backyard.

Yuletide (December 12th) Corey Cunningham

Christmas holds some rough memories for Corey. Luckily his lover has some ways to override Christmas memories of the past.

Sugarplums (December 13th) Donnie Darko

Do sugarplums even exist? Has anyone ever had one? Donnie surely didn’t think so.

Wreath (December 14th) Rhett Abbott

For the last time; just because it’s ring toss shaped, doesn’t mean you can play ring toss with it.

Cranberry (December 15th) Pete “Maverick” Mitchell

A certain unusual flavor that has held a special spot in the Mitchell and Bradshaw family every Christmas.

Reindeer (December 16th) Robert “Bob” Floyd

A snowy landscape, total seclusion in an Alaskan cabin, and lots of wildlife. What an interesting winter vacation.

Mistletoe (December 17th) Lestat de Lioncourt

There is one tradition that Lestat loves no matter the year or who he is spending the holidays with; mistletoe.

Candy Cane (December 18th) David Loki

How do you get a workaholic in the Christmas spirit? Asking for a friend.

Snowflakes (December 19th) Miles Miller

All the guests are taken care of for the evening, and a thick blanket of snow has descended upon the El Royale. What is a couple to do?

Caroling (December 20th) Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Walking through the military town, the Dagger team is stopped by a small group preforming.

Handmade (December 21st) Austin Butler

Nothing made Austin happier than to be home with his girlfriend for Christmas. And they said no presents!

Angel (December 22nd) Marko

Everyone can see that Marko should have been a cherub in a past life, but one person brings that fantasy to life.

Stories (December 23rd) Dwayne

When you live for a long time and never die, you pick up some interesting tid bits of history.

Home (December 24th) Athos

Is it a place or is it a person?

Merry Christmas (December 25th) Bernard the Elf

Another year has come and gone. Another Christmas success. While he would normally jump straight into work now, someone tells him to take some time off to enjoy himself.

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cyaranide · 2 years

Text

mighty glad you stayed

for the prompt icemav + karaoke!

“no.”

ice has raised an eyebrow at him from the threshold of their backyard, impassive and unimpressed. but maverick only grinned, long immune to the icy exterior of tom kazansky to actually give a damn. his fingers danced lightly on the piano, deft and graceful, the notes ringing beautifully in their shared home.

“come on, ice,” he crooned, one-two-one-two notes accompanying his voice. his grin split his face, carefree as always. “has anyone told you you look like jim morrison?”

“i have no idea where did that come from,” ice frowned, but he walked closer nonetheless, eyes seemingly transfixed on maverick's hands constantly weaving the melody. “and if that's your way of telling me to sing, that's the most terrible one yet.”

and that's the thing with pete mitchell, see. he has this laser eye focus on his target; as sharp as a missile lock, as relenting as a barrage of ammos. ice hummed a song once in the shower and maverick had made it a lifelong mission to get iceman to sing.

the piano now was a nice touch, tad better than the last time maverick tried to cajole him to karaoke along to 'footloose' on the crowded o club. maverick never played the instrument often, only when bradley came over to teach the young kid to play, and it was evident from the way he warmed up to the tuts, feet still wiggling a bit awkwardly on the panels. but the slight frown between his eyes was a proof of his concentration, and ice would find it endearing if it's not for his expense.

“why are you so fixated on this?” ice stood beside the piano now, staring down at maverick—not giving up, yet, curious still. “it's just singing. not a big deal.”

“but that's the thing,” said maverick, stubborn and headstrong in his conviction. if only he showed this kind of enthusiasm for paperwork and not for mundane stuffs such as this. “it's your voice. i wanna hear it, ice. properly, not in the goddamn bathroom.”

“you got a kink for my voice, mitchell?”

“maybe i do,” maverick grinned wider then, the music slowly taking shape in a familiar melody that ice recognized. “come on, i'll sing along to sooth your nerves.”

“please don't, your voice is terrible.”

“then you might just start singing before i rupture your eardrums,” he smiled, wider again, so sure of the victory in front of his eyes. when maverick opened his mouth, he started to hum, “i've got this feeling down deep in my soul that i just can't lose."

lionel richie, how classic. maverick stared down for a moment before he looked back at ice, green eyes bright and smile almost bashful. “guess i'm on way.”

sappy bastard.

“needed a friend, and the way i feel now i guess i'll be with you till the end,” maverick continued on, his voice lulled softly with the accompanying melody. maverick's voice might not be the best out there, but—he played the instrument naturally like it was an extension of his limbs, a display of heartfelt emotions and gentle melodies.

there was always this heat, being around maverick. a great ball of fire, coming from the sky, melting down those who dare to stand in his way. or the crackling ember in the hearth, bright and comforting in a middle of the night.

and the flame would always melt the frozen.

“i'm stuck on you,”

and ice—tom, because maverick had that way with him, chipping away at the cold armor with endearing stubbornness and earnest feeling, until he was iceman no longer and just tom; tom, who loves quietly. tom, who would never deny those bright green eyes anything. tom, who learnt to live with his heart on his sleeves because pete has trusted him enough to do the same.

“been a fool too long,” maverick's eyes widen in delight when ice started to sing along, “i guess it's time for me to come on home.”

it was sappy, tooth-achingly sweet, but the words was sung softly; like a secret, like a confession.

“cause this time, little darling,” ice leaned down on the wooden piano, gazes never leaving each other. maverick missed a few notes, but neither one cared enough, too lost in each other. “i'm coming home to stay.”

“guess i'm on my way.”

mighty glad you stayed.

#drabble #top gun #icemav #tom iceman kazansky #iceman #pete maverick mitchell #maverick #they're disgustingly in love your honor #i want what they have

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mollymauk-teafleak · 2 years

Text

you know i got it bad, boy

Basically I took the window escape scene from Top Gun: Maverick and made it gay as the good lord intended. You’re welcome, please thank me my reblogging and leaving a comment over on Ao3!

If you have noticed all of my Top Gun fics have been gifted to my wonderful gf @nb-fearne its because they’re perfect and I love them

------

It was strange, stranger than it should have been, for Maverick to find himself in his own place at the end of the day.

It was full of his stuff, his trainers were right there when he kicked off his boots at the door, the book he’d been reading on and off was waiting for him on the side table as he walked through, the dishes he really should have done at some point in the last week were piled up in the sink accusingly when he moved through to grab a beer from the fridge. His photos were still there when he let the door swing shut, held there by the cheesy, junky magnets Goose had collected from tourist traps in every place they were stationed.

And Maverick still smiled and tapped his old friend’s face where it grinned out at him, blurred and hazy in the old photos, a kind of permanent sunset.

It was Maverick’s place and had been since he came back to Miramar, not one of the little bungalows they put the students in but an actual house. This had been home for nearly a year now but he didn’t feel like he belonged there.

He belonged three doors down in a little two storey identical to this one. He belonged with his wingman, his home was with Tom Kazansky.

But his home was a goddamn secret.

Sighing, Maverick took his beer out onto the back porch, where the ocean was. He sat on the step, stretching out his legs to get the buzz of his motorbike out of them and pulling his threadbare jacket closer around him, it being as cold as California ever got now night had fallen and it was December.

And December was causing most of his problems. Because that meant it was nearly Christmas and the families of the students and the instructors had descended on Top Gun. And while Iceman didn’t have much use for Christmas or his relatives, there were still three days of Hanukkah left and one family member who loved him and who was finally old enough to drive herself down to Miramar.

Maverick knew his sister visiting meant a lot to Ice, more than he was willing to admit even now. His boyfriend’s younger years were dark and painful; he knew that, even if Ice hadn’t given him much of a glimpse at the exact size and shape of the monsters that haunted them. Maverick could glean enough from the tension in Ice’s jaw when someone would drink too much, from the way Maverick had to drag it out of him whenever something hurt, from just how long it took to get past his armor and to his heart but once he had, his name was stamped on it. Trying to figure out Ice was like reading a mess of contrails in the sky and tracing back to where the dogfight had happened.

So Mav knew enough to guess that Ice and Sarah had grown up with their backs against the wall. Sometimes that broke people and sometimes it tied them together in a way nothing else could really touch. The Kazansky kids were the latter. Leaving his little sister behind in that house while he went off to the relative freedom of the military had been one of the hardest things Ice had ever done, he’d confessed it once, and he never would have done it if Sarah wasn’t shoving him out of the door. Seeing her was going to be the first step towards lessening that weight.

Though there was one burden that wouldn’t be shifting. Because, despite everything they’d been through, Ice wasn’t out to his sister.

So they were there and Maverick was here, sitting on the back porch of a house that had been his for nearly a year but didn’t feel like home. He buried his bare feet in the sand, stretched the crick out of his neck from a full day of flying, sipped beer and tried not to think about how much he missed Ice.

He didn’t blame him. Of course he didn’t. Their entire relationship had been behind closed doors, from the first days on the other side of the Top Gun desks when they snapped and bit because they didn’t understand what they were feeling and were so scared of it. From when Mav had first lost his heart to the pilot buzzing the tower beside him, the one with the look on his face that said he’d never doubt him again. From those messy, vague first months when they weren’t sure what they were or what they were turning into from opposite ends of a satellite phone, only able to call each other ‘baby’ in case someone was walking by.

But then Ice had said he was coming back to Top Gun. He was done with distance, he was done with letting these currents drag them apart and neither of them saying what they wanted. He’d just shown up with papers in his hand, that same mix of bravery and terror in his eyes as he had in a dogfight and handed Maverick his entire heart. I’m done not being happy. And the only life I’ll ever be happy with is one that has you in it. So lets just say fuck it and do this.

Maverick replayed those words in his mind whenever he felt low and would until his luck ran out and they put him in the ground.

So they said fuck it and did it and had been doing it for half a year. Maverick knew this was the best guys like them could hope for, working during the day, bickering in front of the squads, pushing each other as much as the kids on the hops, driving each other crazy. And then as soon as they came home, falling into each other's arms and just living.

Like what they had was completely normal.

If the squads or the other instructors, Jester or Viper, if any of them noticed anything then they didn’t say a word. They were close, here at Top Gun. They looked out for each other, as long as you could fly, you were in the family and that’s all anyone cared about. The kids were devoted to Maverick and Iceman, idolized them, would have forgiven them anything, least of all them walking in together, staying late in Captain Kazansky’s office, sitting at the same table in the bar. So Pete and Tom could breathe, just a little.

Maverick liked to think they were teaching these kids something a little more than dogfighting.

But this was a reminder of reality, one Maverick didn’t appreciate, one he was going to sit on the back porch and drink a beer about. He was no stranger to taking a difficult path through things, in fact he’d kind of made a name out of doing that. But the fact he couldn’t be round their place, meeting his boyfriend’s sister, hearing embarrassing high school stories about Ice, getting to see what traditions mattered to him and being part of it, it fucking sucked.

It also fucking sucked that he was going to be sleeping alone while Sarah was here but Maverick told himself sternly not to care about that. There were bigger problems in the world than his sexual frustration. It was only a goddamn week and they were already two days in, he’d live.

Didn’t feel like it right now but he would.

Maverick told himself- the one part of himself in his jeans in specific- that he was going to have his moment to sulk then he was going to look over his lesson plans for the next day, get something to eat and get to bed early. If Ice was pulling his weight, he would too, he’d do it ice cold and no mistakes just like his man. Pete Maverick Mitchell was going to be the model of a secret boyfriend this week.

Somewhere in the house behind him, his phone rang. Mav moved quickly, assuming it was Carole. The holidays were going to be hard for her and Bradley but she’s taken him to her mom’s so they weren’t alone. Just in case, he’d made her promise to call if she needed him.

But when Mav held the receiver to his ear, a much closer, deeper, less staticky voice answered.

“Maverick?”

“Baby?” he blinked, surprised, “Hey. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Ice’s voice was strange, a little nervous but not in his usual, stiff ‘I’m around other people way’, still in the soft, gentler way he spoke to his friends, “Um, listen, apparently someone Sarah was friends with back in middle school moved out to Miramar Beach a while back and they called asking if she wanted to catch up. So she’s gone out to dinner with them.”

Maverick couldn’t stop the grin that was slowly growing on his face and leaking into his voice where he knew Ice would hear it, “Oh yeah?”

Ice exhaled sharply, confirming his suspicions. He wasn’t nervous. He was embarrassed.

“Yeah. So I’m home alone for a couple hours.”

“Uh huh?” Any hope of being a model boyfriend had been jettisoned, Maverick was full on smirking, “So…”

The sound of his boyfriend biting back a frustrated groan was hotter than it had any right to be. Which boded well for their future.

“So. Come over. Because I miss you and need you.”

Maverick’s smirk softened into something realer and more genuine, “I miss you too, baby. I’ll be over in two.”

“Make it one,” Ice snapped before he rang off.

And for once, Maverick did as he was told.

He came in through the back, like he always did, because it was a little subtler and it was also just easier, a short walk or, in this case, a full on run down the beach. Ice was waiting for him on their back porch and god damn him it had only been shy of a day but he looked so fucking good in that open collared blue shirt he was always wearing under his flight suit, tucked into his jeans because of course Iceman fucking tucked his shirt into his jeans.

“Ice,” Maverick called as he ran up, trying to sound light and conversational through heavy breathing.

“Inside,” was all he got in response, voice tight and tense in a way that didn’t scare Mav because he knew he could fix it.

“Sir, yes sir,” he winked as he walked past, making Ice snap his teeth at him before closing the back door and latching it tight.

Maverick knew Ice had no choice but to scrub any evidence of their life together out of the place but still, it hurt to think about his favorite mug pushed to the back of the cabinet, his records that didn’t match Ice’s taste at all stowed out of sight, the shirts too small to ever fit anyone his boyfriend’s size folded and pushed into drawers, the pillows moved so it looked like only one person slept in the bed.

So Mav didn’t think about it. He busied himself with Ice’s shirt buttons and kissing every freckle that was revealed as he opened them, trusting his boyfriend not to let them trip and fall on their asses as they headed upstairs. At some point, Ice just slid his hands under Mav’s ass and lifted him entirely into his arms, carrying him the rest of the way.

“You trying to keep us from breaking our necks or just copping a feel?” Mav grinned, scraping his teeth along Ice’s collarbone.

“Both. I’m efficient, Mitchell,” Ice smirked before dropping him onto the bed, “And we don’t have long.”

Mav looked up at him, very much enjoying the view and enjoying it even more as Ice shook off his shirt and started on his jeans, “You said we had a couple hours. I know you’re thorough babe but how long does it take to fuck me?”

“Oh I’m planning on fucking you twice, Mav,” Ice grinned with that low growl in his voice that made Maverick want this guy to break him in half.

The jacket, shirt and jeans went quick after that, Maverick making a stern note to himself to grab it all later, when they were done. Once they were down to just the dog tags, Ice leaned over him, stroking those long fingers down Maverick’s face, gazing at him so intently like he was trying to map every inch of him for when they were apart again. Like every single cell of Pete Mitchell was precious enough to remember. Like he loved every part of what was sprawled out on the bed under him, even the parts that were smug and sharp and exasperating.

It occurred to Maverick, not for the first time, that no one had ever loved him as fully and completely as Tom Kazansky. They would always pick and choose, ignore or muffle the parts of him that were too much, too loud.

But Ice found room for every bit of him. And sometimes Mav just didn’t know what to say to that.

So just did what he always did when his chest was too full for words, he turned and kissed whichever part of Ice was closest, in this case, the inside of his wrist. Right where his pulse was beating. And as he did, Ice’s smile shifted and he decided on his plan of attack.

“You showered right before you left work, right?”

Maverick studied Ice with interest, feeling pinned under those eyes, “Uh huh.”

“Good. Then knees to your chest, Mitchell,” he purred, slapping his ass as he sank to his knees at the edge of the bed, taking Mav by the hips and dragging him close.

“Oh yes, sir…” Mav gasped, breath catching in his throat as he obeyed so fast he didn’t recognise himself for a second.

Ice clearly hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d missed him. The two men hadn’t had a lot of time to get to know each other so they’d learned fast, what they liked, what they didn’t like, what broke them into tiny pieces and what put them back together again. And Mr Overachieving Perfectionist had, of course, clocked Maverick’s biggest turn on at fifty paces and, of course, was as fastidiously good at it as he was at flying planes.

They didn’t have a lot of time. So, from the look in his eyes, Ice was apparently set on rocking Mav’s world at Mach 10.

He ran his tongue across those unfairly adorable large teeth, snapped at him teasingly and dived down. Maverick tensed, the few seconds of anticipation almost unbearable, only those hands on his hips keeping him tethered until he felt Ice’s mouth on him and everything swam. The breath wavered at the back of his throat, not sure what words it wanted to be when so much of his brain was focused on Ice’s tongue licking a broad stripe up the crease in his body, setting the whole of Maverick alight before he locked in and turned that breath into a scream.

Ice ate Maverick out with the same precision and deadly accuracy he did everything he cared about. It was almost systematic, how he took him apart with just tongue, lips and the slightest nip of his teeth, like he’d read a goddamn textbook on rimming. All Maverick could do was squirm as best he could in the tight grip of those strong hands and make a ridiculous amount of noise.

“Oh God,” Maverick’s mouth ran entirely of its own accord even more than usual, as he writhed and made a mess of the back of his hair, as his fingers dug little half moon circles into his thighs, as his aching cock throbbed almost painfully, “Fuck, baby, yes, right there, right there, oh fuck-”

Ice somehow communicated sheer smugness and triumph without being able to speak, just through the way his thumbs stroked circles in the dip of Mav’s hips, through the way his eyes flashed up at him to watch his face when his tongue found his sweet spot. Maverick gave a broken cry when he hit his target, breath rushing through his tight chest and clenched teeth in desperate pants, the clenching knot of pleasure low in his stomach about to reach its peak. He had no idea if it had been five minutes or fifty, if he was embarrassingly early or if he’d hung on by the tips of his fingers, and damn him but he couldn’t care.

“Tom,” he whined, blinking sweat off his eyelashes, his whole body thrumming with a note that had climbed as high as it could and was about to break, “Fuck, Tom, I can’t, I fucking can’t hold it…”

Mouth having far more important things to do, Ice answered with a surprisingly gentle squeeze of his hips, giving him whatever permission he needed, promising to catch him if he fell apart.

So Maverick did, hips jerking hard, crashing and burning in the best kind of way as his vision went white. It was overwhelming, it was blinding, but he knew that when the world stopped spinning and his body was his own again, Ice would still be there.

And he was, Mav feeling the bed sink a little as his boyfriend climbed back up to lean over him, grinning proudly and a little admiringly.

“You look so beautiful right now,” he murmured, voice raspy and soft in a way that Maverick thought should come with some kind of warning, “I can’t believe I’m the one who gets to see you like this.”

Maverick looked up at Ice with wide blown pupils, again unable to say everything he wanted to with words so he just had to act, “Fuck me.”

Ice lifted an eyebrow and smiled crookedly, “You ready?”

Hand still trembling with adrenaline, Mav reached up and wound the chain of Ice’s dog tags around his fingers, knotting it tight and pulling him close in a searing kiss.

“Don’t care,” he gasped once Ice was wide eyed and breathless along with him, “I’m yours, baby. Fuck me.”

Ice could only give a low groan that was half a growl, the softness retreating for now, giving way to the same laser focused hunger. He turned and dragged his boyfriend with him, rolling so Maverick was now straddling his hips and left to cling to the headboard so he didn’t smack his forehead against the wall. Again.

“Think you’re open enough?” Ice hummed, one hand gravitating to Mav’s ass while the other reached into the bedside table.

“After that? I think so,” Mav arched back into his touch, leaning back enough to feel Ice’s cock pressing into the small of his back, “And hey, it’s not like ninety nine percent of our job is sitting down…”

“You’ve gotten along fine for a couple of years,” Ice gave a bark of laughter, not even needing to look as he found the bottle of lube and flicked it open.

“Fine but not unscathed,” Maverick snatched the bottle out of his boyfriend’s hand, soaking his own fingers instead and reaching behind to slick Ice’s cock himself.

“Oh…” Ice’s expression cracked and caved into relief as Maverick wrapped his fingers around his length, working gently at first, almost teasing.

“That’s it,” he murmured, marveling at how Ice’s delight deepened, shifted, changed as he moved his hand, like the taller man was an instrument he was playing, “You’ve done good, now it’s my turn to go to work…”

“Mav…” Ice breathed, the color rising in his cheeks, the blush creeping down his neck and all the way to his chest, “Careful…”

“I know what I’m doing, baby,” Mav shushed him, tightening his fingers ever so slightly, letting him push into his fist enough that his jaw dropped.

And he did. He knew Ice as well as he knew his jet, as well as he knew his bike, he knew which buttons to press and exactly how far he could take them before he hit the edge.

Riding his wingman was just that little bit more fun.

Once Ice’s cock was slick enough that Maverick had a hope in hell of walking the next morning, he rose up on his knees, fingers still rolling the cool metal of Ice’s chain between them.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he murmured as he sat back slowly, guiding Ice into his body.

“Easy enough,” his wingman’s voice was a strained gasp, his eyes nearly rolling back as Mav took him deeper, inch by inch until he was sat in his lap.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Iceman…” Maverick grunted, breathing deeply until the pain dissolved into a low purr in his veins, the feeling of being so full enough to drag his dick back into an erection whether he was ready or not.

“Move. Now. Fast.” Ice’s teeth looked like they were about to shatter, his grip on Mav’s hips tight enough to leave marks.

Those were the instructions Maverick liked to hear. So he throttled forward hard and drew back deep, rolling and snapping his hips, the headboard thumping the wall rhythmically as he moved. Ice gasped and his hands tightened, body moving with Maverick’s so precisely, the same way they flew. When they both wanted something, they knew how to chase it.

“God, you fuck me so good, baby,” Mav gasped, feeling Ice inside him, tense and hot, low in his stomach, “That’s it sweetheart, gonna get you there…”

It wouldn’t take long, Ice had been showing remarkable patience that had all fallen away now, leaving just hunger in the way he thrust up into Maverick hard enough to make his dog tags bounce on his chest. Mav let him take whatever he needed, pushing back, throwing forward, movements growing frenzied and messy as their release drew closer.

“Pete…” Ice groaned, voice splintering, “There…”

“With me, baby,” Maverick gasped, “Together.”

Ice nodded, yanking his lover down into a kiss as they came in the same moment, so tangled up as it crashed over them that it was hard to tell where the boundaries between them were. Heat flooded into Maverick and scattered across Ice’s chest, their cries the same, their shudders in perfect time, their bodies fit together so close and so perfectly they couldn’t feel the seams.

Coming apart afterwards was almost painful, as Maverick collapsed and Ice caught him, gently laying him out next to himl. All of a sudden, Mav was blinking tears out of his eyes, surprised to feel them there but there was something right about it. Especially when Ice reached across to catch the ones that fell with a gentle thumb.

There was that feeling in his chest again, a love that felt so impossibly heavy, so knotted and tangled up with his insides that he had no idea how to even start talking about it. Ice was looking at him, gazing like he was something precious and holding him so gently, and Maverick had no idea what to say.

Fortunately or unfortunately, he didn’t have to figure it out.

Because both men froze as, below them, the door opened and there came the sound of shoes being kicked off into some corner of the porch.

“Tommy!” a young female voice called, “I’m back!”

The two men looked at each other, seeing the same pure panic on each other’s face.

“Oh shit,” Ice breathed.

“...why does she get to call you Tommy?” Mav whispered in the same moment.

Apparently they both dealt with panic very differently.

Ice shoved Maverick off the bed, leaving him to find his feet or tumble to the floor. Fortunately, he managed to stay upright, immediately diving for his clothes.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…” Ice somehow managed to scream while whispering, yanking on a shirt and a pair of shorts.

Wearing about half his own shirt and about three quarters of his jeans, Maverick hissed at him, “Calm down and think! Where am I going?”

Ice bit his lip and stroked his fingers anxiously through his hair, “Can’t go downstairs, she’ll see you, can’t go into the hall…”

“Tommy?” the voice again, slightly closer though they hadn’t heard her feet on the stairs yet, “You home?”

“Yeah!” Ice did his best impersonation of someone not having a heart attack, “I’m just, uh…”

“Showering?” Mav whispered, chasing down his other shoe.

“Showering!” Ice yelled, “Just showering!”

There was a pause then Sarah called, “Alright then. Move your ass or I’m picking the movie…”

Maverick was as dressed as he was going to get and Ice had an apologetic look on his face, one that dropped his shoulders and made him groan.

“I’m going out the window, aren’t I?”

“Sorry,” Ice winced, “Can’t get to the back door or the front door without passing her…”

Maverick was already shaking his head, throwing on his jacket and making for the window, “You’re lucky I did gymnastics when I was a kid.”

“Of course you did,” Ice found the time to roll his eyes, moving to help Maverick swing a leg over the ledge and find some kind of footing on the gutter.

Before he started his half climb, half stumble down the building, Mav paused, pulling Ice in by the shirt and giving him a swift, sweet kiss.

In spite of the mild hysteria, Ice smiled, suddenly hesitant to let him go, “I really am sorry…”

“Hey,” Mav stopped him, giving him a grin, “I’d do a hell of a lot worse than climb out of a window for you, Tom Kazansky.”

The sound of Ice’s soft laughter was a nice thing to leave with, even if he was leaving by shimmying awkwardly down the side of the house.

Maverick tried to just move quickly, feeling like the chances of him falling and breaking something would diminish the closer he got to the ground, even if he got there by scraping his palms and barking his shins. Thankfully, he was just a handful of feet away from the grass when his grip finally gave out, though he still rolled and hit the ground in the least graceful landing of his military career. As Maverick winced and dizzily lurched to his feet, his one thought was that he was glad no one was around to see that.

A thought that very quickly made him feel very stupid, as he turned and nearly collided with a young woman, standing in the gap between houses with her arms folded.

Maverick froze with a kind of cold shock that only rabbits caught in headlights could probably empathize with.

“Evening, ma’am,” he tried for a smile after way too long of a pause, sticking his hand out, “You must be Sarah. Nice to meet you.”

The tall, dark haired, sharp boned young woman just regarded him with a cool look that would have marked her for a Kazansky even if the rest of her features didn’t.

“You’re Maverick,” she said in a way that could be an accusation and could be an observation.

“Um…” he let his hand drop, “I am…how did you…”

“Tommy talks about you,” Sarah had the same piercing eyes her brother did.

“Right…um, Sarah, listen…” Maverick was mentally taking his brain and shaking it, desperately hoping a reasonable explanation would fall out.

Fuck, Ice would never going to forgive him, he’d cost him his wings, he’d never see him again…

“Listen, Maverick,” Sarah even popped the last syllable of his name, the way Ice did, “You break my brother’s heart and I’ll break your balls. Understand?”

“I…what?”

Sarah narrowed her eyes and looked remarkably fierce for a seventeen year old girl. The fact that she was taller than him probably helped.

“I said, if you hurt my brother, if you let him down, if you break his heart, I will hunt you down and kill you slowly.”

Maverick blinked, stunned, “I…I believe you would, Sarah.”

“You better,” she spun on her heel and started walking back towards the house, which probably now contained a very confused Ice.

Maverick watched her go, recognising that stubborn set to her shoulders, his brain slowly catching up to the fact that he hadn’t just imploded his relationship and his career. The smile started growing on his face.

“Sarah?” he called softly, just before she turned the corner.

She paused, looking back at him with an arched eyebrow and an unimpressed look, like the next thing he said better be good.

Maverick was going to do his best.

“You don’t need to worry about me breaking Tom’s heart,” he smiled, the words coming so easily now, “We’re forever, me and him. I love him to death and, as long as he’ll have me, I’m not going anywhere.”

Some of the wary tension in her eased and there was the ghost of a smile on her lips, “I’m going to talk to him. I’m going to tell him I know.”

“Good,” Maverick nodded, “I guess I’ll see you soon then, huh?”

Sarah nodded, “Guess so. See ya, Maverick.”

He waited until he heard the door close and he knew she was safely inside. Wishing his boyfriend a silent good luck, he turned back towards the house that wasn’t his home with the biggest grin on his face and a light feeling in his chest.

Maverick would be fine on his own for one night.

He had the rest of his life to spend with Tom Kazansky.

#icemav #top gun #top gun 1986 #smut #iceman #maverick #tom kazanksy #Sarah kazanksy #pete mitchell #please reblog and comment!

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jackiequick · 1 year

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A friendship with some history attached —> Amber & Peach 💐

-> Another Top Gun Maverick Au

Check out any information on the characters = Amber ‘Skysolo’ Kazansky & Georgina ‘Peach’ Wells

—

The girls never met before until the week where everyone was handpicked and selected to return to Top Gun for an important mission. A life or death one to be more specific. Amber’s father Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky allowed his daughter to take charge with handpicking and researching on the pilots, while him and the higher ranks officers did the rest. But she didn’t know who she would be working with.

Meanwhile on the other side of the state, Georgina was working in her small office when her mother, Charlotte ‘Charlie’ Blackwood and a few other civilian workers, assigned the young girl to a unique project. Georgina was confused at first until given some time with discuss it with her mother and some time to think about it.

—

Fast forward a few weeks later, Amber woke up bright and early to head over to some meeting with her father. In the back of her mind, she knew she would have to one day take up the role, as substitute for her father if his cancer ever came back. Afterwards, Amber was in her office a few blocks away from home and stayed quietly to work, letting her mind wonder.

Georgina Wells on the other hand, woke up with care and enjoy her day off right having a nice breakfast at her assigned housing offered to her by the state, for this work trip. It was a nice deal, to be honest. The girl spend her days picking out her outfit, looking over paperwork and trying to calm her nerves. Georgina was usually a smart confident young girl with high standards but traveling to the North Island made her very nervous cause she didn’t would she expect here.

—

Finally the girls met that afternoon. Georgina nervously walked into the building with her visitors pass and knocked onto Amber’s door. Amber was writing something down on her notebook and such, not looking up towards the door to her office.

“Come in!” Amber called out, continue to write and read in papers.

Georgina walked in holding her stuff with a nervous smile, “Thanks. Are you uh, Amber Kazansky?”

“Yes, that would be me. I mean, yeah I’m her..”

“Uh, okay good. Good.”

The moment Amber looked up at the other girl, Georgina’s eyes locked onto hers curiously. Kazansky’s warm focused eyes look softened at the sight and Well’s calculating curious eyes gently lowered. Amber was the first one to simply smile and greet her properly as Georgina softly smiled introducing herself.

Both girls talked about having a causal conversation with one another. Starting out with apologizing with not meeting each other at the front desk, their schedules, lives outside of work and their family history. It was a warm welcoming environment as the office glowed the afternoon sun, the pictures on the wall shined and smiles were returns.

The whole conversation was honestly lovely, the girls enjoyed each other’s company together. Amber wondered if Georgia was onto something when she said ‘History sometimes repeats itself’. Amber’s the daughter of Iceman and Georgina’s the daughter of Charlie. A Civilian Contractor and Lieutenant. She can’t help but wonder if their parents planned this? She wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

—

That same afternoon, the two met the gang of mischiefs who would become like family. Along with some love interests, added to the mix for good measure. The girls friendship grew after some time. It got some getting used to having a such a giant group around. Especially with so many personalities bouncing from one another and sometimes wanting to punch the crap out of each other.

And a less than few weeks later, the friends landed jobs in great shape. Both decided to work at Top Gun together in a stunning, with a view of the lovely trees and land of grass with flower coming up soon again, the pretty streets and a mile away a semi-view of the beach waves. Every once in a while, jets would fly by the building and you can see the clouds making pictures in the sky afterwards.

Currently Amber was working on a few listings to send to the higher officers in charge when Georgina stumbled into the office. She took a seat in the chair that sat across from her, after staying in some boring meeting all day, but clearly she had something important to say.

“Yes, Peach?” Amber asked confused looking up from her Instagram account as she worked.

“I think i was just assigned to work with Cyclone.” She asked, as it sounded more like a question than a statement, showing her friend the paperwork.

“And? How is that a bad thing..aside from the fact, that i hate the man.”

“I don’t want to work with Cyclone, he’s rather annoying sometimes and stiff like a stick. At least his daughter, Kyla Simpson, is a lot nicer!”

“Fair, Cyclone’s daughter is rather nicer than her father.”

“What do i do?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Cause your the closest person in the building right now. The others admirals, officers and lieutenants are either out on break downstairs or head another meeting.”

“Uh..um, I guess i can work with Cyclone for the week and try to not want to break his nose like last time…”

“Meanwhile I can work with instead Kyla Simpson and Corporal Joanne Ryde! You’re a genius, Amber. Thanks!”

Georgina stood up and smiled grabbing her clipboard, running out the door to inform the change of events, heading towards the elevators. Amber was left confused for a moment cause she didn’t exactly agree to anything exactly. The girl was a deer in headlights before it hit her.

“..huh-oh! Wait, Gia!” Amber practically slipped out of her chair, almost falling onto her face racing over the girl. She almost accidentally left the door open behind her wide open.

She had to give it to her friend, for a girl in designer high heels she ran fast out of that office. Impressive. It took Amber a solid minute to finally reach up to Georgina, catching the elevator before it closed.

Georgina was startled for a moment when the hand appeared between the elevator doors, like scene in a horrible movie, then settled recognizing the rings and bracelets. The girl didn’t expect her for friend to follow her, if she knew she would’ve held the elevator for her. Once Amber entered the elevator, she leaned back against the corners of the small space as her chest puffed quickly. It took her moment to catch her own breath as Georgina looked at her worried for a moment.

“Are you alright?” Ask Georgina stepped over to her, examine her face quickly.

“What are you? Quicksliver in heels?!” Amber said, letting out another breath jokingly.

“I’m more of a Black Widow kinda girl but sure. Yeah I’ll take it.”

“Next time, walk like a normal person in heels!”

“How about next time, you decide to work out with me on a Thursday morning instead of eating donuts!”

“I work out.. sometimes.”

“Really? When was the last time you work out?”

“Uh, two months ago..”

“Next Thursday, no donuts for you!”

“Bu-but—my donuts!”

“You can live a day without them, Lieutenant! Not the end of the world.”

“I won’t function without th—wait that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here then?”

“You swapped Simpson with me.”

“Isn’t that what we agreed to?”

“Well yes-b-but I didn’t expect for you to say yes to my idea!”

“Uh hello, you know how to deal with Cyclone, a bit better than i can. It was pretty obvious who’s getting which Simpson!”

“Fine! I can get Beau Simpson and you can get the pretty nicer one.”

“Much better, you see? Was that so hard?”

“No it wasn’t. Be lucky, one of my best friends.”

—

Georgina just grinned brightly and laughed at Amber’s childish pouty face. One thing Georgina noticed from being friends with Amber Kazansky, in public settings she can sometimes have a bit of a stone heated face, a loud temper at time and welcoming professional smile. But with friends and family, she loved gossip and to tease others, act more loud and childish at times and just be a cuddly mess. Overall she was very warm, kind and sweet to everyone, If you were lucky, you would definitely get to see a mix of both front before your eyes.

Moments like this, Amber saw another side to Georgina, that she much appreciated. Most of the time she was confident, smart, gentle and sweet, she would kindly correct you if you mess up and walk into a room like she owned the place. A spinning image of her mother, taking peoples breath away. Even she get can become plenty nervous at times. However around her friends and family members, Georgina was sassy, very kind hearted and will how she feels about a certain topic, sometimes she can loud and tease her friends. Overall the girl was a joy to be around.

Even if the friends were different, from where they grew up to what they liked to watch, the two wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thank you for reading! This was a story between mine and @msrochelleromanofffelton Top Gun Maverick characters. I hope you enjoy it 🫶

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @t-nd-rfoot @topgun-imagines @gcthvile @morgan108 @meiramel @ohgodnotagainn @luckyladycreator2 @hanlueluver @rooster-84 @mandylove1000 @blackheart-beauty and etc

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the-authoress-writes · 9 months

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Nadia

Main Blog: @oh-great-authoress

🌸My Peeps🌸

This Blog will never have any explicit content, but I would greatly prefer if I could see my followers ages in their profile.

I do not give my permission for any of my stories to be reposted (reblogs are very very welcomed) and/or fed into any AI program of any sort.

Fandoms I Write For:

Top Gun

Ships

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky X Reader

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky X Sarah Kazansky

Top Gun: Maverick

Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Reader

Star Wars

Ships

Reylo

Gingerrose/Gingerflower

DCEU

Ships

Quinnflag

House M.D.

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

Masterlist below the cut!

Updated 3/15/24

Top Gun

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky

Wherever You Go

X Aviator!Reader

Written for @roosterforme’s Top Gun Rocktober Fic Challenge

✨Ongoing Series✨

New Chapter 3/15/24

Synopsis: Tom Kazansky made a mistake.

Or rather, a series of mistakes.

He chose to take the assignment as an instructor at TOPGUN.

He fell in love with one of his students.

He broke her heart.

He chose to leave TOPGUN, and redeploy.

Now, he was stuck onboard the USS Nimitz with the woman whose heart he broke, with no way out.

Unbelievably, that’s not the problem.

Problem is, he still loves her.

Somewhere Out There

X Wife!Reader

Written for @valmare

Synopsis: Deployments are hard, but when you have someone to come home to, someone to love, that makes things easier, painful as it may be.

Dangerous Games

X Navy Nurse Wife!Reader

Synopsis: The saying goes “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes”.

Well, Mrs. Thomas Kazansky is about to learn another version of this saying; “Play dangerous games, win dangerous prizes”.

But she doesn’t exactly mind.

The Comfort of Your Arms

X Nurse Wife!Reader

Written for @callsign-skydancer

Synopsis: When a bad day at the ER leaves Mrs. Kazansky a wreck, she goes to the only place she knows she’s safe.

A Warm Wind Blowing the Stars Around

X Sarah Kazansky

Synopsis: A mandatory visit to Naval Medical Center San Diego leads to more than Tom “Iceman” Kazansky thought possible.

Family

Headcanons

Synopsis: Family has a great deal of meaning for Thomas Kazansky.

It affects and has affected him in more ways than one, and it continues to influence and shape him.

Top Gun: Maverick

Jake “Hangman” Seresin

If You Please

X Lawyer!Reader

Written for @roosterforme’s Top Gun Rocktober Fic Challenge

Synopsis: It’s not everyday that one’s best friend gets married, it’s not everyday that one is asked to be said friend’s Maid of Honor, and it’s certainly not everyday one meets a gorgeous, blond naval aviator.

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell

Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing

Mavdad/X Penny Benjamin

Synopsis: What do paperwork and a manicure have to do with Pete Mitchell getting the happy ending he never thought he would?

Everything, apparently.

Gen Fic

Bradley’s Uncle(s) (And Dad)

Dagger Squad Crack

Synopsis: The Daggers look through Mav’s TOPGUN class yearbook.

What they see surprises most of them.

In other related news, Bradley would like to bleach his brain.

And his ears.

#pinned post #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun: maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic

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pollyna · 2 years

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au: Iceman lives but he's still doing chemio, Mav and Slider have a kind of hate/hate/love relationship but when it comes to their mutual friend they pair up faster than you could ever believed. Oh, and Hondo is fuckin' smart, he follows Mav from job to job because he likes to go around and meet new people and have new challenges everytime, before he gets bored.

Warning for homophobic assholes, angst, slurs and not enough punching.

Sunny outside doesn't mean Maverick is happy. This fucking new place where they moved the base is always sunny and he would appreciate it if heat could give them a little breath because it's just the end of march and they already have to switch on the air conditioner and that made Tom get cold again. It's never a good day when his husband gets sick because of stupid stuff it could be avoided. Better yet, it is never going to be a good day until a cold won't degenerate into fever and long nights fighting sleep and nightmares.

He fucking misses Miramar, their favourite spot on the beach and the gentle old lady who used to spend the afternoon with Ice playing cards, watching stupid telenovelas and keeping him company when Maverick had to be elsewhere.

The new class isn't helping his mood either. The best of the best and a new brand of fucking assholes who doesn't listen to him, makes him want to punch everybody in the face and likes Cyclone a little too much for his, and Hondo's, taste. Hondo not liking an entire class says much, especially after three years of teaching at TOPGUN and the number of years the man himself spend working with many different kinds of people in every program the brass moved him to.

If on a normal and sunny day Maverick would have just let it slide and got back to them making the exercise just a little more difficult to complete, today he just can't, not again and not after what he heard while walking in his classroom. Skylab is the first voice he hears but Viking is the one who answers and the deafening silence from the others doesn't help. It hurts a bit when not even Empress, the only decent person and a very good pilot, says something.

The brass let a faggot like Kazansky win this stupid fucking price and then made him Admiral. Who knows how many favours he had to do just to enter the Navy.

Probably not as many he had to do all these years to save Captain Mavsshole. Probably he has AIDS and not even cancer but they are just too ashamed, to tell the truth, or everyone would ask too many questions.

Pete has to count until ten and then until a hundred and then another time until a hundred before taking another step. He knows all his seeing, and hearing, is just blind rage and it could make it worst, probably ending up in prison or in the hospital and then Ice should get up to fetch him and he isn't in the state to do anything, he shouldn't do anything if not get better. He counts from one hundred to zero a third time, takes a deep breath and thinks he can handle this without resulting in homicide and a dishonourable discharge from the Navy and leaving so much mess to clean to Carlos and David. He likes them and he likes having lunch with them. So no to punch because then his husband should come for him and he can't, no to kill or he's going to lose two friends but he can't act as if nothing happened. So he'll have to think about what to do and they're going to regret even letting their own brain think about something like that.

The punishment arrives in town under the shape of one Ron Slider Kerner who decided to come around to see his best friend and spent time making Maverick's week a complete hell. Or maybe not.

When he comes back home that same night Slider is already around, sitting on the couch, talking with Ice about something and someone who got married down in Cali and people Mav doesn't know. Tom looks a little better and just that makes the day a little less heavy, when they kiss hello he can feel his husband's hands around his face and their grip is stronger every day and that would have made his knees give up and cry a little because it was such a close call this time he almost can't still believe this man, four starts admiral Tom Iceman Kazansky, is still alive and fighting and kissing him when he comes back home. Then Slider cough and oh, oh man now he knows what to do and how to make that bunch of assholes pay. They're going to hell without moving a step and they're blissful unaware of what it's waiting for them.

He has to wait after dinner after Ice is in bed and Slider is tidying around because he lived with Ice too and took some of his husband freakish habit when it comes to have a spotless kitchen in a spotless house. So Slider, I have a favour to ask he announces once he's back in front of him and Slider's smirk is a very knowing one. And so the game begins.

Wednesday morning is a little cooler than Tuesday and Ice's cold seems a less intense. He takes Slider with him because he must see the new state of art place where he's working he says to Ice and his husband laughs and looks like he's sayin' I know something is going on, be careful babe.

The class is already sitting in their usual spots, a pilot and their RIO every row, and they look at them walking in with the most confused expression ever. Oh, you don't have the slightest idea of what is going to happen now.

Class this is Captain Ron Kerner, callsign Slider, he was Admiral Kazansky's RIO for most of their years in the air and he's going to teach you a couple of things this week. He worked around a little bit, after he stop flying, went to DC, decided to put his ass on a chair and then went back in combat with some very tough dudes who taught him a thing or two. He's here for a visit and, over dinner, I was thinking it would have been so nice to have him over to teach you something new. He was so happy to accept.

Slider is subtle in what he does and how he does his work, he learned it following Ice around during his first years in his Admiral carrier and perfect the rest working on his own projects at the Pentagon and around DC. He takes the all class up in the sky at five am, makes them run miles every time their manoeuvres aren't exactly by the book, gives homework and books to read, checks their rooms and confiscated their alcohol and cigarettes, and takes them to the veteran home and forgets them there for a whole day because he has to take Ice to try the new ice cream place, then comes back at eight in the evening, makes them run again, questions them about politics and tactics and makes them running a little more. But the worst is the inactivity: after spending days moving around like the world is going to end the second next to this one, he makes them sit in class st five-thirty in the morning and makes them wait. For an hour, then two and then three. It's eight-thirty and Slider is strolling in the classroom looking like someone who had the best sleep and coffee in his life while every single student is dying to sleep, drink something other than water and, generally, their poor brains are begging do something. Good morning class, today we have a nine-hour lecture, so get ready to have your world shake and you're going to learn stuff you're never going to forget.

Almost ten hours later, a break of thirty minutes around midmorning and Slider smiles and announces, candied as the day his parents baptized him, that everything has a reason in this life and a day of lectures on the culture of queer people, slurs, AIDS and flying is the bare minimum they deserve and he's going to make sure no one's name is going to end of the plaque because they don't deserves such an honour, or any honor, when they can't give the basic respect to a human, let alone to one of their superiors. And yes, every single one of them is going to get back in flight school, even if it will cost Slider and Maverick all the favours they have to ask, and not isn't just because of the comment on Admiral Kazansky, that was only the last straw and yes Viking you can call the President of the United States for all I care.

It's Wednesday again, it's raining outside, Maverick is making pancakes for three people, he doesn't have to go to work because he doesn't have a new class for at least another month and a half, Slider is looking around as if he was the king of the world and Ice is trying really hard not to ask what his husband and best friend did. He's going to read a report, a couple of days later, very detailed about everything that happened but by then Slider will be back in DC and Maverick will be fussing about taking a walk and looking to adopt a cat and starting a new hobby that will get them out of the house every time they can.

For now, Tom enjoys the pace and some delicious pancake, while Mav and Slider finish forging a strange new alliance, signed over the promise of mutual help and no question asked when needed.

#it was supposed to be a prompt bc i'm trying to prep at best for this afternoon lesson but apparently things got a little out of hand #ty grammarly to make this more redable but if u finds mistakes pls let me know!!#pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #ron slider kerner #icemav #mav & slider forming tentative friendship to protect ice: new trope #new class is full of homopobic assholes and mav can't punch them all so he does what he does best: creates avock #slider is more than happy to help #but he has important things to do to while he is in town!! like take his bbf to eat icecream #homophobia #slider has a power point for his ten hours lecture with pictures and videos and he wanted a report after #viking & skylab & empress are callsign names i found on google lol #ice is loved #but it's a pretest to fix things bc the navy won't do it #it becomes a ritual of sort: every year slider is around for a lecture at the beginning of the year and if pilots aren't okay with what-#-he is saying they can leave the program at the beginning so they can find someone better to put there #idk what the fuck i'm doing honestly i'm still tired from this weekend and stuff #married couple #au: iceman lives #(cancer is retriving and he's getting better every day)#post-movie #top gun: maverick #ice x mav #otp: i heard from the heavens that clouds have been grey

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she-who-fights-and-writes · 4 years

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How would one write a realistic argument?

How to Write a Realistic Argument

Everyone argues.

Whether it be with a friend, sibling, parent, or coworker—arguments usually break out whenever there’s a stark contrast in opinion over certain things, which can happen a lot.

There are a variety of different kinds of arguments involving a wide range of people with different tempers. Because of this, writing arguments can be a bit difficult, but fear not, for this post is here to help!

1. Know The Writing Style of an Argument

For a very serious argument, the characters probably won’t stop and listen to what their opponent has to say.

It’s quick, choppy, and broken—each character shoving their emotions at one another and trying to get their point across without bothering to understand the other side’s opinions.

There should be a lot of em-dashes and italicized words for emphasis, and if it’s between two people, you want as few speech tags as possible; because there’s going to be a lot of back and forth, speech tags can serve to trip up the flow of the argument rather than help them.

When you do want speech tags or if there are multiple people arguing at once here’s some examples you can use:

Roared

Screamed

Yelled

Bellowed

Barked

Hissed

Shouted

Accused

Interrupted

Growled

Snarled

Spat

Screeched

Shrilled

But you also must know that your characters won’t just be standing stock still and yelling at one another; they’re going to be moving around, so here are some things you can describe your character doing during an argument

Expression contorting

Eyes narrowing

Speaking through clenched teeth

Baring their teeth

Lips twisting (into a sneer/into a snarl)

Hands balling into fists

Trembling

Breaking things/knocking stuff over

Pointing accusingly

Shoving

Spittle flying from their mouth

Stamping their feet

Face getting hot

Vein in forehead popping

Blood roaring in their ears/heart pounding

And if you want, to build tension you can put it in a dangerous place, like at the edge of a cliff or something—so you know fully well that if one of them goes too far it may end up with the other’s accidental death.

2.Know Your Characters

The most important factors of your argument are the characters participating in it.

You should have your characters’ tempers established beforehand so you know if they’re going to be hanging back while others argue or if they’re going to be throwing hands every other chapter.

Your characters’ tempers will shape how much tension the argument causes.

An argument with someone who is usually chill and slow to anger will be a whole lot more impactful and important than an argument with someone who is a known hothead, but it wouldn’t make sense if the argument happened over something minor.

Here’s a list of some of the tempers your character can have, ranked from lowest to highest on how much tension an argument with them causes

(Just so you know, these aren’t rigid categories; most people are usually a mix of everything!):

–Hotheaded Character–

Fights with a hothead hold the least tension.

Hotheads will fight over anything and everything, their quick fuse making them easy to irritate and anger. Their words can hurt people who aren’t used to it, but usually bounce off of close friends who are used to it and know that the hothead usually doesn’t mean it.

Arguments with hotheads have a high chance of turning physical, because their rage explodes in bursts rather than a slow buildup (the definition of going from zero to one hundred), and in any situation, hotheads are usually the ones to throw the first punch.

Because a hothead could get riled up about a spilled drink just as quickly as they can get riled up about a friend dying, just having a hothead getting angry during a moment of severe tension won’t bring you the umph that you’re looking for.

However, your hotheaded character can serve as an instrumental character in triggering more serious arguments, one of their mindless snide remarks going too far with a level-headed or shy character.

Examples of hotheaded characters:

Stanley Kowalski, A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams

Lt. Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, Top Gun (1986)

Anger, Inside Out (2015)

–Aloof Character–

These characters are a lot like hotheads, but the many, many fights that they pick don’t involve them getting raging, screaming mad.

They’re cold, calculating, and cutthroat, and they couldn’t care less about what you think of them.

Their anger is a lot less “loose cannon” than the hotheads’. They say what they mean and mean what they say, and it’ll take a long time to recover from the tongue-lashings these people can dish out.

The greater tension, however, comes from when the aloof characters raise their voices and start shouting—their schooled, uncaring façade fades away and they’re left truly and undeniably angered by whatever tipped the scales.

It’s not too tension-building because these characters were just bastards to begin with, but it’s still unnerving and shocking to see a normally collected character lose their cool.

Examples of aloof characters:

Mr. Darcy, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Prince Cardan, The Cruel Prince by Holly Black

Alex Stern, The Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo

Sherlock Holmes, Most Media Types

Tony Stark, The Avengers

–Nonchalant Character–

These people usually don’t engage in meaningful arguments because they literally don’t care enough to bother.

When another character tries to pick a fight, a character who is more nonchalant will sometimes roll their eyes at whatever accusation is being leveled at them rather than retorting. This can go either way, perhaps escalating the tension or diffusing it by not offering up a reply.

Kind of like with the aloof character, they don’t have any emotional attachment arguments that they start or are dragged into. They’ll argue for the sake of arguing, but they really don’t give a fuck about it.

The part that draws the tension, however, is when the characters do give a fuck. A fight they get into turns heated, and a character’s normal devil-may-care attitude may morph into something else altogether.

Most nonchalant characters also may exhibit some hotheaded tendencies, which shows how muddles these archetypes can be.

Examples of Nonchalant Characters:

Han Solo, The Star Wars Saga

Deadpool, Deadpool (2016)

Angel Dust, The Hazbin Hotel

–Level-headed/Stoic Character–

These characters are the cool cucumbers of the group. They’re very, very, VERY slow to anger, and usually exhibit more maturity than their peers, almost never starting arguments.

They’re the masters of diffusing arguments with a few words, and hardly ever raise their voices.

Sure, they may serve as backup to someone else and may jump to their aid with a bit of heat behind their words, but this hardly happens when the argument is their own.

Many hotheaded or aloof characters may try teasing or pushing these characters in order to act out, but it rarely works.

On the few instances that a level-headed character is angered, it is pretty serious.

Either one of the other characters poked fun at something they shouldn’t’ve—their dead parents, something they’re self-conscious about, etc.—or a member of the group makes a terrible mistake with dire consequences, and the stoic character has had enough.

This causes a lot of tension because “oh shit, the calmest person in our group just went off” and can usually signal a breakdown of the group because their strongest link is snapping.

Examples of Stoic Characters:

Geralt of Rivia, The Witcher

The Mandalorian, The Mandalorian

Spock, Star Trek

The Doctor, Doctor Who

Atticus Finch, To Kill A Mockingbird

–Timid/Shy/Quiet Character–

An argument with a timid person causes by far the most tension out of everything, to the point where I call it “The Snap.”

Someone who is timid, shy, or quiet would rather not argue at all because they don’t have it in them to retort.

They may care a whole lot about the situation under contention, but for one reason or another they don’t want to start too much trouble. These people actively avoid conflict and usually try their best to diffuse situations before they start, whether it be by conceding, walking away, or pulling the nonchalant route and not saying anything.

However, unlike the stoic characters, they might be much more emotional; it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for a timid character to cry when being berated by the others, and they may even be outwardly livid, but they always back down in the end.

However, they can only hold it in for so long.

If you have a character who spends the entire book meekly accepting the verbal (or perhaps physical) harassment of other characters, you should most definitely put a “Snap” somewhere in the story, a point where the character has had enough and fights back.

The timid character’s pent-up rage and sorrow explodes into a raging argument that will most definitely frighten the other characters.

The tipping point may be the death of the loved one or just a simple, ordinary jab from an antagonist—the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Unlike with the hothead’s quick bursts of anger like snap fireworks, the anger of a quiet character—much like with a stoic character—is like ten thousand pounds of dynamite with a very, very long fuse.

A quiet character will almost never have a contained argument once they’ve snapped; it will be like a category five hurricane, and God help the poor bastard that set it off.

Examples of timid/shy/quiet characters:

Carrie White, Carrie by Stephen King

Amélie Poulain, Amélie (2001)

Bilbo Baggins, The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkein

3. Know The Rhythm of An Argument

An argument isn’t just 0 to 100 and then back to 0.

The tension levels look more like a squiggly line than a single spike; the tension peaks and ebbs on various levels throughout an argument, especially if it’s a long, important one where both characters are snapping over a novel’s worth of building tension.

The argument can come in like a freight train or it can build up slowly, a character storming in after a realization or a single snide remark that snowballs into something much greater.

Then comes an accusation. Both characters brace themselves and realize that this argument isn’t just going to putter out.

More back and forth words exchanged. “I don’t like that you do this, this and this,” while the characters’ tempers flare even further, pushing them to say more extreme, hurtful things and working each other up into a rage.

A physical fight may break out between the two, throwing punches and insults.

The climax should be a huge, shocking exclamation or accusation. “I hate you!” “If you were never born, Mom would still be alive!” “This is all your fault!”

The tension ebbs. The characters stand in silence, bitter and ashamed of themselves.

They may agree on a few things, their tempers start to die down. They may come to some understandings or storm off with the tension unresolved. The argument ends.

This is the basic format of an argument; however, there are usually several levels of accusation-buildup before the eventual climax.

The whole point of an argument is that it leaves the characters’ relationships much different than they’d been before; they either understand each other much more, or they’ve become much more wary of one another.

If your characters’ relationship doesn’t change after an argument, then there was no point in writing it.

I really hope this helped! Happy Writing!

#writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writers #writing an argument #writer #help with writing #help for writers

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