#top gun flyboy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ouralcohol · 1 year

Text

Bésame la boca

Pairing: Mickey “fanboy” Garcia x fem!reader

Summary: what happens when a ghost from Mickey’s past comes back to haunt him on NYE?

Tags: angst, lots of angst, 18+, cursing, Spanish mixed in there, reader is nicknamed pequeñita which means tiny, reader is short by the nickname. Reader is Latina.

Author’s note: I couldn’t get this idea out of my head and this is dedicated to my dear friend @rae-gar-targaryen, who’s a year wiser this week and I love her. sorry for the jumble... this was supposed to be a BLURB.

You had to see him.

You couldn’t help it. It had been years since you last saw him. You tried every night to answer the impossible, to answer the why’s, to answer questions that you had never asked anyone. Only he knew the answers. Only he knew because he’s the one that left you there.

And you waited.

You waited like a fool in love because what else were you supposed to do?

After the days passed, you wondered what had happened that made you repel him from you. Was it your fault? It hadn’t been the best last conversation you had with him. You regretted the words that had left your lips as soon as you said them… that didn’t mean that he had to leave like that. Leave you.

Enough was enough. At least you told that to yourself every day and every night that you sat and waited for him. Waited for him to call, to text, to come to your house, to see you, to tell you that he was sorry, to tell you that it had all been a mistake.

You had been a fool in love with him. How could you not be, with his sweet demeanor and silky voice? With the raven curls that you ran your hands through for days? With the eyes that made you weak every time he looked in your direction?

Goddamn Mickey Garcia.

Years passed by and you managed to move on. The word had been that he had left to become a pilot. An aviator. He always did mention that he wanted to fly, especially in his younger years. You remembered that his mother had been worried about the profession, but he assured her, no doubt. The whole barrio knew what he was doing… except you. How could you be so oblivious? How could you be such an idiot? You really thought he was going to follow after his father’s footsteps and take over the family business.

Wrong, so wrong.

So while he went on to live his dream, why couldn’t you? He had been included in your dream once upon a time. You achieved your attainable goals and managed to get a decent job with the degree that you worked so tirelessly for.

He had become an unattainable dream that you longed for.

You thought about the man an embarrassing amount of times, as he always lingered in the darkest corner of your mind, trying to break free so your life could be consumed by him. You fought every day and you didn’t let it win. You didn’t because he didn’t even give you a reason. He didn’t even say goodbye.

One day he was just gone, like the blink of an eye.

When the months turned into years, you found out where he had gone. You found out where he was stationed, but you didn’t dare face him. Oh no. You stayed put in the world you knew, in the world that was safe, in the world where you knew every nook and cranny.

As it turns out, he wasn’t far away. He wasn’t far away at all… maybe a couple of cities across the state. You were thankful for distance when you found out, but also felt ridiculed that he never came back to you. Did he find someone better? Did he find someone that could give him what he wanted instead of what you both wanted? Instead of what you had hoped and aspired for? You hated that every time you tried to date, his voice crept in the back of your mind, you hated that every time you tried to go out he was there to tell you no, that you needed to go home and study or relax.

Mickey ruined you in every aspect.

He ruined you forever as nobody would ever compare to him, from the way his hands used your body, to the way his lips kissed all the worries away, to the way that his eyes made you feel like you were some ethereal goddess walking on this Earth.

When he left, so did your heart and everything else that went with him.

Did he know that?

You weren’t sure, but you also didn’t want to find out at the same time because maybe you were the problem. Maybe you have always been the problem. How come he didn’t break up with you? How come he didn’t tell you to your face that he didn’t want anything to do with you?

Which is what led you to where you were now. New Year’s Eve was around the corner and a friend that you hadn’t seen in a while had invited you out. There was an apprehension on your end, but then she told you that she wanted to go to a place called the Hard Deck.

There was only one Hard Deck. You knew where it was. You knew who was there. How did your friend know about this? Why did she want to go there? “Any particular reason you want to spend the last day of the year there? And to drive all those hours?” You queried her as you were at a store rummaging through clothes to see if you could find something to wear.

“Don’t you want to go see all the hot aviators? That’s where they all spend their time from what I hear. There’s just something so sexy about pilots… you know?”

“So you’re telling me that you want to drive a lengthy distance just to go look at some men with nice Ray-Bans? Just to gawk at them?” You sounded incredulous spotting a dress that caught your eye. It resembled a sunset, you thought.

Your friend let out a small laugh, “It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

‘Cause it was.

Would Mickey Garcia be there? Would he be deployed? Would he… fuck the what ifs.

Fuck it all and fuck his pretty eyes with his pretty face and his pretty personality. Hell, maybe he wasn’t even the same Mickey that you used to know… after all it had been what, five, maybe six years since you last saw him? How could you pine for someone like him when he clearly left you in the dust?

You were a stupid girl. You were stupid in still thinking about him for as long as you could remember. You tried to think of why you kept thinking about him, why the mere thought of him kept you up at night. It came in waves, in phases. Somehow you managed to work through it all and you were quite surprised with yourself. Mickey Garcia had been it for you, but clearly you weren’t the endgame for him.

It was fine.

It really wasn’t.

You felt foolish.

You were foolish.

“I mean, we’re not groupies… but I suppose we could make a girl’s trip out of it?” You suggested… why…

It was time to face him. If he was even there to begin with.

You needed answers that had been haunting you for years and had kept you up at night. His eyes crept up in your dreams and nightmares. How he had always managed to sneak himself into your daily thoughts for years. It wasn’t fair that he did this to you.

Why did he have to be so cruel? You didn’t appreciate that you had wasted time for him. The tears you shed had purpose and you hated it. You hated that he did this to you, tainted you in more ways than one.

You were pathetic, but you had to find out why.

Your friend agreed, beaming at you. Since it was her idea, she proposed that she could find a hotel and pay for the room the both of you would share. You liked the idea, but only if you got to drive. Driving was one of those things that made you feel better, it was therapy. You enjoyed doing it and didn’t mind the distance. It had been a second since you went on vacation, so it was a good excuse to leave the city on one of the busiest nights of the year. New Year’s Eve was always crazy with the hopes of a new beginning. The end of a whole year, while the string of something new lingering in the air, causing everyone’s mood to shift.

You always felt to be in better spirits when the new year began. There was a glimmer that maybe, just maybe, you would wake up and it was all a dream, that none of the past six years had happened.

You always woke up in the nightmare that he wasn’t there with you, and you loathed it. You hated yourself for making things about him. For revolving your world around his orbit… even though he wasn’t there. God, you were very pathetic.

The bags were packed, the car full of gas, and you and your friend had nothing but a road ahead of you. Give or take… six or seven hours of driving.

That’s how far Mickey García had been from you after all of these years.

Had you been selfish? Sure. So had he. Had you put yourself first this time? No doubt, but so had he. Had you asked him to stay? Had you asked him for you to be his priority? One hundred percent. He had been yours, so why couldn’t he do the same?

***

You stared at yourself in the mirror. The way the dress flowed and hit every curve, the way your hair was done was simple and mostly the same, but somehow different. The way your make-up made you look mature, older, wiser, the way that your eyes sparkled under the dim light. Even the way the blood rushed to your apple cheeks made you endearing. There wasn’t much to work with, really, but you had never thought of yourself as someone worth looking at over the years. This dress wasn’t out of the ordinary, as you often wore sundresses occasionally. The thing that was different was how much longer your hair was, how things seemed to have evened out through the years, how you were more woman than child.

“He’s going to drop dead.” She said to you quietly while you fiddled with the ends of your hair.

You had shared with her your biggest regret. You had shared with her the biggest mistake you ever made. You had shared with her what a stupid woman you were. How you could long for someone that probably forgot about you.

There was a simple shrug from your shoulders, “He won’t even remember me. Besides, we don’t even know if he’s stationed here.. He could be somewhere else.”

You were afraid to say the elephant in the room, afraid to even whisper his name.

“Want to go find out?” It was a question that you had been asking yourself from the beginning.

Did you? Did you want to find out if he was here? If he would be there? If he would even face you?

The voice in the back of your brain said an immediate yes. How would he have changed throughout the years? How would he be different? Would he be the same? All the questions are already bubbling at your lips.

The anticipation was building in your stomach as you felt the blood rush to your face again. There was a final tone to your voice, “Yes.”

She took you by the hand and both of you walked out of the hotel room and into the path of the unknown and uncertainty. You could hear the blood pumping through your veins in your ear, almost like a ringing, reminding you of how this moment was making you feel. Your breathing was even, but the thundering of your heart pounding against your chest while you stepped foot into the bar made you forget your name. The combination of the pounding and your hands shaking was enough for you to make a beeline for the bar.

“Two shots of the finest Tequila you have.” You told the bartender as you surprised yourself with how calm your voice was.

You didn’t even bother to look in any direction, not knowing if he was here or not.

“They’re so hot.. All of them.” She spoke in your ear while letting out a laugh.

You cackled out of nerves, forgetting the whole reason why you were there. It was to admire the pilots. Your nerves were in overdrive as you grabbed the shot, placed your card down for the bartender to take and took it without even toasting. The tequila went down your throat burning a path in its way, but it was enough to distract you from the mess you were in at the moment. “Yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. Your eyes stayed on the table, afraid he would be there, afraid he would have spotted you, afraid that you were in his safety zone.

“Everyone keeps looking at you.” She spoke again after she took her own shot.

“I’m sure they’re looking at you.” You nodded furiously, not wanting to go into that right now.

“He’s not here.” She whispered to you while giving you a sympathetic look.

You shouldn’t have been disappointed. You shouldn’t have had expectations of actually seeing him and his pretty eyes.

You just shouldn’t.

Before you could say anything, though, the piano keys rang through the bar, causing everyone in it to cheer and start singing along to the song that apparently one of the pilots had begun to sing and play. It was the last day of the year and everyone was in high spirits. Everyone was cheering around you, passing beers left and right.

“Another.” You told the barkeep as she strolled by to ask you what else you wanted.

You didn’t drink and this wasn’t helping, but it was a distraction to the internal turmoil that you were going through. What the fuck was your own problem? How could someone you hadn’t seen in years make you feel this way?

How?

As she placed the shot in your view, you grabbed it again and took it without a second thought. Your eyes stayed glued on the glass, noticing how your lipstick surrounded the rim with the color of your lips for this evening…

Your mood was sour. You were enraged with yourself and the fact that he wasn’t here. You were enraged that you had hoped for this, you were enraged that you would think that this would all be like a fairytale with a happy ending, you were enraged that you were in a state of dream rather than reality. You were enraged that you let him consume you in everything you did, every breath you took, and how he filled your senses every goddamn time.

The singing and playing continued as every aviator and their mother hollered at the top of their lungs. Talk about a magnified frat party. The friend that was supposedly with you got whisked away by one of them. “He asked me to dance. It’s just a dance.” She purred in your ear as you could see the excitement bursting through every word.

You silently nodded toward her. None of this was her fault, this was all your doing.

It sucked not being able to match the mood in the room when you sat there sulking in your mistakes and regrets.

You just wished you would have left him instead.

The instant buzz of the alcohol was now running through your system as it amplified every nervous symptom you were feeling. At least your hands stopped shaking, but now you were just sitting alone at the bar contemplating your move. Contemplating going back to the hotel and continuing being pathetic. Nobody would see you at least.

You didn’t know what to do… there was always the possibility… but possibilities didn’t exist in your book. Not when he was the only possibility that was unattainable.

Time was nonexistent right now. What was minutes felt like seconds and hours felt like a flash. Your brain was going hazy, you were never too good with alcohol. A soft smile appeared on your lips from your observation. Your hands smoothed down the front of your dress, a habit you tended to make when you felt self-conscious, as your senses were in overdrive and you could feel the eyes on you.

Nobody came up to you, though, so people were just staring… the music boomed through your ears as it almost made your body shake from how loud it was.

A sigh poured out of your lips as you had decided to call it. Your friend could stay, she was probably having a blast.

Signing the receipt and picking up your card from the counter, you placed it in your purse while beginning to get up to get out. The room was getting smaller by the minute, the sea of people confiding you in a miniscule space that was unwanted. The breathing from your nose had gotten heavy with the proximity of everyone around you singing at the top of their lungs.

You wanted to gasp out of desperation, but you couldn’t. You tried to make your way through the crowd, the dress you wore clinging tighter to you than ever before. Have you been sweating? Has it been that hot? A hand ran through your hair to let some loose waves cascade around you making a curtain of your face until you felt a warm sensation caused by some fingers wrapping around your wrist.

The ringing in your ears was so loud that you gasped and turned around to see who it was.

“¿Pequeñita?”

You swore your heart stopped in that split second from hearing him call you by the term he chose. Your words failed you as you could only look at him and how much he changed. A buzzcut had replaced his luscious curls making him look older than usual, though the glistening in his eye was still there. He was just as shocked toward you as you were toward him.

Had it been worth it? A thousand times yes. A thousand times to see his chestnut eyes staring back at you. You gulped, swallowing some saliva as you slowly nodded your head toward the man that had caused all your sorrows.

A deer caught in the headlights as he took a step toward you while sinking his head down to your level and resting his lips on your temple, “Lo siento.” His words are sincere, serene, and a broken promise that he had never made to you.

The simple action made you weak in the knees, but you stood a little straight with your head held as high as you could, taking a step back from him.

Six years poofed in a nanosecond.

Another hand ran through your hair as you gave a nod toward the door signaling that you wanted to go outside, away from all the noise, away from peering and curious eyes. It was now or never. It was now that you decided you were going to get your answers.

Your feet carried you to the outside as you took your shoes off to sink your feet into the sand. You could tell he followed. Turning around and facing him, you breathed him in, noticing that he was the same, yet different.

“What are you doing here?” He dared ask you.

“No. Oh no, no, no, no.” You stated in a whisper through your gritted teeth, “No you don’t.”

You swallowed the tequila in your breath once again, “Just. Why?” A silent plea was heard through the words you chose to speak to him. How quickly the thoughts had dismantled from your brain as you could only stare at him waiting for an answer.

“Peque–”

“Don’t call me that.” You spat.

His features hardened as he locked his jaw in place. How did he think that was okay? Had he not noticed the past six years without you?

“Soy un cobarde. (I’m a coward.)” He said, bowing his head in defeat and speaking again, “ I couldn’t give you what you wanted. I couldn’t be the man you wanted me to be. How could you not think about what I wanted?” The words weren’t accusatory, they were questions that he had never been able to answer himself either. They cut you like a knife trying to split your heart in half.. He had been just as lost as you were…

“How could you not think about what we wanted Garcia? Or did you miss the part where I was involved in the relationship too?” You spoke with heated words taking a step closer to him to read his expression. He hadn’t changed after all of these years, he was still the same Mickey that you knew in school, the same Mickey that dreamed of risking it all.

He looked away, maybe he felt ashamed, “I just. I just wanted… I just…”

“Just what?” Another plea, more like a cry. All you wanted was the answer.

“I loved you too much to put you through it all.. To put you through this.” He waved his arms around signaling his job, his profession, his duty to his country.

Loved. A past tense.

“So leaving was the answer? Leaving me there waiting for you like a fool? Who looked foolish there, tonto? It certainly wasn’t you. ” You said as tears began to sting your eyes.

“I couldn’t face you with the decision I made.” His words were soft as he finally looked in your direction and took another step to get closer. “If you’d only allowed me in…” You trailed off. He always kept the things he kept dear close to his heart and that meant shutting you out throughout the years you spent together. Mickey Garcia didn’t speak much on emotions and how he felt about things. You tried, but he kept distancing himself in other ways.

The pilot looked like a boy right now as he took another step tentatively toward you while you could only focus on his beautiful face… the years of remorse, the years of silence from both ends. You wanted to reach out and touch his olive skin, but refrained not knowing what he would do.

The pilot took another step toward you causing you to get a sniff of his scent, making you feel so dizzy that you had to take a deep breath or else you were sure you were going to pass out. “You left without saying a word.” Your words rang with the pain you had felt.

“I wanted to say something after it all happened… but it was too late, I know it was.” The next movement surprised you as his fingers traced the apple of your cheek, your breath caught in your throat not being able to look away from his pretty eyes.

Just as he looked down at your lips a countdown could be heard… 5, 4, 3, 2… “...It wasn’t.” You blurted out before you stopped yourself.

A soft caress of his fingers on your face and you were putty in his hands.

Nothing had changed.

The pilot glanced down at your lips …1…

You tilted your face for easier access to his lips as you felt his breath fanning yours for a split second before he crashed his lips onto yours. The state of shock that your body had melted away with his simple touch.

Oh what those lips could do and how you remembered in a flash.

He was sweet and honey combined in ways that you had forgotten, he was silk. He was euphoric and ecstasy.

He was Mickey goddamn Garcia.

#mickey 'fanboy' garcia x reader #mickey garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #fanboy x reader #fanboy x pequeñita #top gun #top gun x reader #top gun Mickey #top gun flyboy #fanfiction #too gun maverick fic #Danny Ramirez #fanboy #fanboy garcia x you #Mickey fanboy garcia x you #top gun mickey fanboy garcia

153 notes · View notes

stranded-ziggy · 6 months

Text

Ghost || Modern Warfare

Read more for no mask version ;)

#life is shitty so i need to repeatedly draw the angstiest character i find interesting right now #bradley and jake are buckets of sunshine compared to this man #hmm cod and top gun crossover...#old modern warfare but i wonder if they still hold a grudge against navy flyboys for almost blowing them up xD #my artworks #simon ghost riley #digital art #art #portrait #ghost #ghost cod #modern warfare ii #mwii

2K notes · View notes

unlawfulchaos · 1 year

Text

Mav: You know, when I was your age-

Rooster: You know, when I was your height...

Mav:

Rooster: *already running away*

Mav: GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!

#ice caught it all on video #sent straight to the flyboys group chat #slider had to leave a meeting because it made him laugh so much #bradley asked ice to send him the video too #he then sent it to the dagger group chat #poor mav #he's just a little guy #incorrect quotes #top gun #icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #mavdad and icepops #mavdad

2K notes · View notes

hang-a-roo · 1 year

Text

All the married flyboys probably picked Mav up by his armpits to show their wives the " stray kitten Viper let them keep".

Merlin, holding Mav: Look honey! This is the stray kitten!:D

Merlins wife: …Dear, that’s an adult man.

Mav: PUT ME DOWN-!

#top gun headcanons #top gun 2 #top gun incorrect quotes #icemav #mavdad #top gun 1986 #top gun fandom #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #iceman x maverick #they’re family #86 flyboys #pete maverick mitchell #top gun merlin #merlin

2K notes · View notes

kryptonitejelly · 2 days

Text

Grease & Tequila - a Flyboy One-shot

Top Gun: Maverick - Jake Seresin x Reader - part of the Flyboy!Universe

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Genre: romance; fluff; angst; best friends to lovers

Warnings: general hangman being hangman; sexual tension; general cursing; will contain mentions of a break up / previous relationship; general use of pet names; fem!reader; pining; general naval / flying inaccuracies; alcohol; being drunk.

Length: One-shot

Summary: Set 5 months pre the Flyboy!era. The one where Jake gets the call that you and Dan have broken up and he has to be on the next plane to New York, now.

Flyboy | Mini-Series Masterlist

(not fully updated as of today, but if you follow / search the tag “flyboy universe” / “flyboy” / “flyboy fic” / “flyboy!jake” on my tumblr you’ll find recent asks / headcannons / blurbs!)

A/N: It’s been a while, and this isn’t all that exciting, but I think it definitely (I hope) sets the scene for Flyboy and helps everything click into place.

DISCLAIMER: all work posted here is purely fanfiction; it does not in any way purport to be an accurate representation of real life or the general workings of any institution.

“Lieutenant,” Admiral Craig’s voice booms out as Jake opens the door to his office. The Admiral waits for Jake to shut the door completely before he starts up again, “I got your last minute absence request.”

“That is correct, Sir,” Jake nods, as he comes to a stand in front of the Admiral’s desk. He stands with his feet hip width apart, hands behind his back, eyes meeting the older man’s.

“Everything okay?” The Admiral asks, his gaze steady on Jake’s. It was rare for a last minute absence request to come across his desk, which meant that when they did - it was usually pressing.

“Just something I need to attend to, Sir.” Jake responds, his mask not slipping, but the Admiral hears the weight behind his words. There is a silence pause between the two men, before the Admiral picks up his pen, signing the bottom of the two sheets of paper before him with a flourish. He was never one to refuse these requests as long as he deemed them legitimate, but he made it a point of looking the requestor in the eye to make his own assessment of the situation before approving them. He didn’t need to know the why, unless it was volunteered by the requestor him/herself, but he needed to know that it wasn’t being abused and Jake Seresin, for all his ego and cockiness, was a dedicated solider. He wouldn’t ask, unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Approved,” the Admiral says simply before passing one of the sheets to Jake. Jake’s mask doesn’t crack, but the Admiral sees a twitch of relief as Jake remembers how to breathe, “Godspeed.”

“Thank you Sir.”

Jake shifts irritably in his seat as he waits for boarding to be complete. He had reached out to Grandma Doris’ personal assistant once he had gotten off the phone with you, even before he had submitted his flight request, his text to her was just one sentence, twelve words long - I need to be on the next flight to New York, please. He usually would not have bothered her, but this - this was a pressing situation, he just had to get on that plane. She had, the blessing that she was, gotten hold of two flight options for him, the next flight to New York, and the next next as a backup, both in first class no less, with a simple request to let her know when he needed a flight ticket back from New York.

“May I offer you a hot towel, Mr Seresin?” The stewardess stops beside his seat. Jake shakes his head, offering her a polite half smile.

“No thank you.”

“How about some nuts, or maybe a drink?” She tries again.

“How long more do you think it’ll be till take-off?” Jake’s question is abrupt and she is quiet for a second, slightly taken a back. He isn’t rude, but is, obviously antsy.

“I think another twenty minutes Mr Seresin,” she says as she follows his gaze out of the window.

“Thanks,” is all she gets from Jake as he continues to stare out of the window beside him as if willing take-off to come faster.

“Anything else?” The cashier of the fried chicken shop just around the corner from your apartment building asks Jake as he rings up the total on the till.

“That’s all, thanks.” Jake says as he slides his card out of his wallet before tapping it against the screen of the payment machine which is proffered to him.

“Here’s your receipt, please wait on the right.” Jake slides his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans before stepping towards the right. The tequila which he had picked up on his way out of the airport is in his backpack, the shape of the bottle pressed against his back, a reminder that he was just that much closer to what he came to New York for.

The ride up the elevators to your apartment is excruciatingly slow, and Jake taps his foot against the ground the whole way up. He hadn’t had to buzz you to let him up, managing instead to catch a couple on their way out and slip into the building - something which he made a mental note of in the back of his mind - perhaps it was time to convince you to move to somewhere with a doorman or concierge for increased safety.

The bottle of tequila is now in one of his hands, and the bag of greasy fried chicken and fries in his other - his remedy for your broken heart. Alcohol, fast food, and well, him. His eyes are fixed on the flashing red numbers as if willing the elevator to go faster. It stops with a ding, and Jake all but runs out.

He hears you before he sees you, hears faint noises and shuffling, the unlocking of a separate bolt and a lock before you pull open the door an inch to peer out past the safety chain. His eyes meet yours, and sees your eyes, glassy and red rimmed, no doubt from crying meet yours. The doors shuts fully for a second or two as you undo the safety chain before it is pulled open fully.

Jake takes you in the second the open door reveals you - the red tip of your noise, hair on top of your head in a loose, messy up do, body clad in an oversized t shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants and he feels a funny tug in his chest.

“I thought you might need this,” he says as he holds up the items in his hands. You hold his gaze for a second more, and then it happens, the glossiness in your eyes turn into tears which spill over onto your cheeks as you take a step forward, throwing your arms around Jake’s body, burying your face in his chest. Jake hears, but also feels the sobs that wrack your body against his front and he is quite sure that in that moment, the tug in his chest feels like a earth shattering crack.

“I got you,” he says gruffly, bringing both his hands down around you, while still holding onto both items. His words only intensify the sobs coming from you and all Jake can do is draw you closer.

“I’ve never liked him,” Jake snorts as he watches you down yet another shot of tequila. You are both sitting around the coffee table in the floor of your living room, greasy chicken and fries demolished, the open bottle of tequila three quarters gone - with more damage having been exacted on the bottle by you than by Jake. Jake isn’t drunk, but he definitely isn’t sober, which means that neither are you.

“He’s an asshole,” you half shout, your words slurring from the alcohol as you let your self sag backwards, leaning against the sofa before you let yourself droop sideways, your head coming to rest on Jake’s shoulder. Jake shifts, moving his arm around you. It allows you to scoot further into his side, your face turning slightly to rest against the side of his chest. You breathe in his scent, the faint smell of soap, laundry detergent and airplane along with his own natural musk, which wraps around you like home, and you feel Jake’s fingers running themselves soothingly along your arm..

“Say the word, I’ll beat him to a pulp,” Jake says, dropping the side of his cheek against the top of your head, his finger squeezing the top of your arm gently. His tone is light, joking almost - but yet not really. Nevertheless, the thought of Dan facing off against Jake makes you chuckle lowly. Dan was no slob himself, he maintained a decent level of fitness - occasional runs, regular visits to the gym, but he might as well have been one compared to Jake. Dan worked out for aesthetics, but next to Jake, who had worked out for functionality all his life, football, the Navy, Dan paled greatly in comparison.

“He’ll never stand a chance,” you say, amused as you close your eyes. Your head has started to get impossibly heavy, your tongue feels thick from the copious amounts of alcohol running through your system, and you let your head rest heavier on Jake’s chest.

“That’s the idea,” is what Jake says and it makes you giggle this time as you sink yourself further into Jake’s hold, seeking out a comforting, physical closeness. Jake can feel yourself pressing into him.

“C’mere,” he mutters, as the arm he has around you tightens. You feel movement, and Jake is reaching across your body, managing to slip an arm under your legs to pull you onto his lap.

“Jake,” your protest is weak because you don’t put up an ounce of a fight, opting instead to shift along with him so that you are comfortably nested on his lap, your ear against his shoulder, tip of your nose just about brushing the side of his neck, “I’m not a child.”

“Mmm,” Jake simply hums in agreement with your words, both his arms coming to form a loose, protective cocoon around you.

You both sit in a comfortable silence, a haze of alcohol enveloping you both. Truth to be told, the break up, the serial cheating - it all hadn’t come as a surprise to you. You had suspected on many occasions, but it had been easier to ignore and live in denial than to face the truth after 3 years of being with the same person. It had broken you for many reasons, and it still hurt like hell to lose a constant presence with which you had spent the past 3 years with, but you weren’t all that sure it had broken your heart, not when your relationship had been fizzling out for a while and you’ve suspected for months.

“He wasn’t good enough for you, you know,” Jake says as he turns his head slightly, managing to plant a half kiss on the side of your temple.

“You say that with every break up,” you laugh dismissively, “that’s what best friends are supposed to say.”

Your words make Jake frown and he moves himself to move you, making you sit up sideways on his lap so that he can look you in the eye. Your are slightly elevated from being seated on his thigh, and you find yourself staring down, holding his gaze. You slide the palms of your hands past his shoulders to steady yourself.

“They were all not good enough for you,” is what he says, unwavering as he holds your gaze. From your sideways position, you can feel one of Jake’s hands sliding around your back, and coming to rest on your waist, and the other coming to rest loosely across your lap.

“Or maybe I wasn’t good enough for them,” you say with a rueful quirk of your lips, letting yourself drown in alcohol induced post break-up self pity. Your words only make Jake’s brows furrow together, a flash of irritating passing through his eyes. It makes him move the arm hanging across your lap up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing the space just below your eye. You let yourself luxuriate in the warm against your cheek, leaning into his hold. You see Jake’s gaze dart from your eyes to your lips, but the fuzziness of your mind doesn’t let you overthink at just how intimate the moment between you both is.

“You are too good for all of them,” is what he says. You see a flash of something in Jake’s eyes, and perhaps if you were sober, it would have been something you could more accurately place, but you can’t.

“I want to go to bed,” you say, your exhaustion suddenly hitting you and you let your eyes close, weight of your head still balancing on Jake’s hand.

“Ok,” is all he says as his thumb continues to move gently across your skin.

“Come with me?” You say, your ask clear, you didn’t want to be alone - it was simple, nothing more, no innuendo and you knew that Jake would understand.

“Ok,” he repeats as he finally drops his arm from your cheek.

Jake has a hand behind his head, eyes fixed up on the ceiling of your bedroom. You had fallen asleep the moment your head hit the pillow, no doubt attributable to all the tequila you had ingested, but also a sure sign at just how exhausted you were. He had taken a quick shower, ridding himself of whatever traces of airplane he had left on him, before tugging on the pair of shirt and shorts he had brought along with him and, true to his word - gotten into bed with you. There was no way in hell was he allowing you to wake up alone.

He lets the soft hum of your snores wash over him, and Jake tilts his head down to watch the rise and fall of your body from where it is curled up beside him in a fetal position under the covers. You look at peace, finally - but he can see the sunken skin beneath your eyes, a tell tale sign that not all was well.

“Baby,” he sighs, murmuring to himself, the term of endearment slipping too naturally from his lips, as you shift, your body finding its way a few inches closer to him. He doesn’t hesitate, removing the arm from behind his head to caress the side of your cheek. Your snores stop, turning instead to an sleep exhale of content, and in that moment, it strengthens Jake’s resolve. He feels the gears shift in his brain and chest, feelings that he had kept at bay in the recesses of his mind and heart for months, years, coming to shore. He had spent the past 3 years watching you fumble your way around with Dan, and even more before that with different men that you had dated, but it was enough - fuck that. He was sick of watching them hurt you, breaking your heart when you deserved so, much, more. Jake wasn’t going to let that happen again. The next person you dated was going to be your last, the person you dated, was going to be him.

“Text me when you land,” you twist your fingers around, interlocking them with each other as you and Jake stand on the sidewalk outside your apartment, waiting for his car to pull up.

“I will,” he says while watching you twist your fingers together. You weren’t ready for him to leave, and neither was he - ready for himself to leave, but the days since his arrival on Thursday night had blown past, and Sunday had come too soon, “text me whenever you need,” he says as he extends an arm, pulling you sideways into him. His action makes you stumble slightly, and you reach out with a hand, to grab him around his waist.

“I will,” your response is a parrot of his. It had been a great past few days, once you had gotten over the hangover that hit you both, but you harder, on Friday morning. Jake had forced you out of the house for two whole days of everything and nothing - strolls around the city all while forcing you to thread your arm through his, making sure you filled your stomach with an assortment of food, watching bad television together in your apartment. He had filled your space with laughter, familiarity, and physical touch when you needed it most and you weren’t ready for him to leave.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, leaning sideways towards you to brush his lips against the top of your head. Jake lets his lips linger for a second or two, and you let your eyes close - letting yourself be vulnerable, enjoying the moment.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” you voice is soft, small almost, the truth of your words both a happy feeling for Jake, but also a stab to his heart.

“I wish I didn’t have to either,” he says gruffly, removing his lips from the top of your head to pull you into a bone crushing full frontal hug. He could see a car approaching from the end of the road, his time with you dwindling now to just mere seconds, “I’ll see you soon,” he says, a statement, not a question as you cling onto him in similar fashion.

“Soon,” you echo, a promise between you both.

“So how long are you leaving your girlfriend for?” The driver asks his question conversationally as he pulls away form the sidewalk. Jake’s gaze lingers on you as he raises a hand to wave goodbye. He sees you offer a lopsided smile and a similar wave of your hand.

“I don’t know,” he admits to the driver without much thought, not bothering to correct him. Jake keeps his gaze trained on you until he is no longer able to.

“Hopefully you’ll see her again soon,” is what the driver continues with conversationally, “she looks crushed that you’re leaving.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” is all Jake can say as he settle back into the seat of the cab, his mind far away, his heart still with you.

167 notes · View notes

pinkdaisies9285 · 4 months

Text

Flyboy and the Florist-1

Bob Floyd x F!Reader

Warnings: None, Fluff

Word Count: 466

Author's Note: This is my first time writing for Bob and I hope I did him justice. Also, I tried to keep reader pretty neutral in features but she does have glasses and ear piercings!

It was an accident. One moment Bob was trying to find the perfect bouquet for Penny from Maverick because he trusted the quiet man. The next he’s surrounded by flowers on the ground and the prettiest eyes are staring at him with concern. Bob didn’t think that someone so beautiful would be the owner of the little florist shop he found on Google. It had the highest reviews and that was good enough for him. He was not expecting to be enamored with her when he first walked in. Hence why he missed the bucket with freshly cut peonies to the right of him. Which resulted in him slipping on the wet floor and landing flat on his ass.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Tilting her head which resulted in a soft jingle from the earrings she was wearing. The stars and moon twinkling in the sunlight added an almost ethereal appearance to her but maybe it was just in his head.

“Y-yeah. Sorry about knocking that over. I can pay for them if they’re ruined now?” he said while standing up quickly. He felt like a total idiot knocking over your perfect flowers and his momma raised him to be a gentleman. So his immediate thought was to somehow fix the silly little mistake he made.

“You’re totally fine,” she said with a chuckle while pushing up her glasses. “ They’re just flowers and besides I can repurpose them into one of my bath salts. An easy fix.”

All Bob could focus on was her pretty smile and how much her glasses fit her face perfectly. With his head in the clouds, he missed the question she just asked him.

“I’m sorry what was that again?” he felt completely flustered.

“I asked what type of bouquet are you looking for? Is it for a partner or a friend?” she asked with a curious look on her face.

“Oh! It's not for me. My superior wanted some help picking out something for his partner.” Bob immediately replied with a flush on his cheeks.

“Well, he must trust your insight a lot to give such an important task to you.” She turned around and picked up a bouquet that had morning glory, baby’s breath, and roses. “Here this bouquet will be perfect. Baby’s breath means everlasting love, Morning glory means affection, and pink and white roses together mean “I love you still and I always will.”

Bob stood there even more enamored than before, the way she rattled off the meaning of each flower with such excitement made him want to know more. About her or the language of flowers, he wasn’t sure but he knew that this wasn’t the last time he would be crossing paths with this enigma of a woman. He’ll make sure of it.

Tag List: @attapullman @seresinhangmanjake @3tabbiesandalab @nerdgirljen @bobgasm @muddwheelz123

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Divider Credit @cafekitsune

259 notes · View notes

itosevenito · 3 months

Text

I love that the tg fandom just collectively agrees that Mav and Ice raised Bradley and that the other flyboys are his uncles

#top gun #top gun maverick #the flyboys #icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom “iceman” kazansky #bradley “rooster” bradshaw #icemav are bradley's dads #fight me

353 notes · View notes

paxny · 3 months

Text

Crack fic idea where instead of dogfight football, Mav makes the dagger squad do an obstacle course like on the game show Wipeout

276 notes · View notes

thatsrightice · 5 months

Text

Iceman may have made the climb in ranks, eventually earning the title of Admiral and Commander of the Pacific Fleet, but that didn’t mean he had to give up flying entirely right away.

Retired Rear Admiral Jay “Spook” Yakeley continued to fly as he raised through the ranks, as did a few select other Rear Admirals. In fact, Spook said that he was able to fly just about whenever he wanted given his rank on base.

“I flew all of the teen fighters in one day. I went up in a Tomcat and a Hornet in the morning. After lunch I flew an F-15E and a TOPGUN F-16. Kind of a stunt, but hey. When you’re an admiral you can do stuff like that.” - Jay “Spook” Yakeley, Rear Admiral USN (Ret.)

Ice would have definitely done that just to rub it into Mav’s face, maybe to spite the other pilots. He would have someone hold the video camera and record him, and he’ll start in front of each jet talking to the camera. Nothing much, just his name and callsign, date, time, location, the aircraft type, aircraft bureau number, etc. for record keeping and proof.

Then he’d be filmed climbing into the cockpit and going for a fun flight performing some semi-difficult maneuvers, nothing super dangerous but still impressive. Then he would move on to the next one and repeating the process. Ice would have kept it on the down-low, spending time carefully organizing his schedule to allow for his stunt to be pulled off flawlessly without drawing attention to himself.

Then he’ll bring the video to the next Tailhook reunion early and have the organizers set it up on a projector or video device (or however old video tech works 🫣) just waiting for when one of his friends make a jab at him for probably not being able to fly much anymore given his new rank. And he’ll just turn and give a subtle nod to the man. Maybe it would have been edited by a movie editor he has connections with or something to make him look like the BAMF he is.

#I got the Bye Bye Tomcat book for Xmas and I am in love #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #icemav #top gun #flyboys #tailhook reunion #just a little thing I wrote #admiral tom iceman kazansky #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick

244 notes · View notes

teddy06 · 5 months

Text

Alright top gun fan artists who's taking one for the team and giving Bradley this sign cause lord knows I'm not talented enough

#I wish I could draw #bc then I wouldn't need to make this cry for help #top gun #top gun maverick #rooster #Bradley Bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #Maverick #iceman #tom iceman kazansky #(also any and all dagger squad or flyboys at the army navy game hcs fan art what have you would be amazing)#i'm begging #teddy 06 #teddy06

184 notes · View notes

whohasthecards · 6 months

Text

Hangman meets this Nick-Goose guy at the bar (not a joke)

Jake rested his chin on his cue stick as he stared curiously at the pair at the bar.

The famous Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson and some skinny blonde guy were hanging around. He never knew that the Admiral could smile. Sure, the guy was fair and respected all around the base, but he was stoic. He shrugged and went back to his game.

By the time he sunk the 8-ball in, he looked up and the Admiral was gone. He handed the cue stick to the next guy about to play and went up to the bar, knocking on the counter.

“Ma’am, a cold beer, please,” He said flashing Penny a smile, she rolled his eyes and handed him his drink.

“Stop calling me, ma’am, I’m not your commanding officer, Lieutenant,” Penny grouched before smiling.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Jake said flashing a wink and Penny rolled her eyes in response.

“Damn, Pen, not checking IDs, you’re getting sloppy or soft,” The mystery man said and Jake turned to get a better look at him.

He blinked before realizing that Roo-Roo Bradshaw was somewhere in the Pacific Ocean and a good 30 years younger than the man.

“Shut up, Nick, he’s a grown aviator,” Penny sniped back, hitting the man with a towel as he batted it away.

“Damn straight,” Jake said, taking a sip of his beer.

“Ahhh, so you are getting soft, you’ve always been soft around aviators,” Nick said, giving Jake a wink.

Penny blushed and gave Nick another hit with a towel before another customer called her away.

“Piss her off enough and you’ll get thrown overboard, even if I gotta do it alone,” Hangman said, flashing Nick a sharp grin.

Nick gave a low whistle, “Damn, son, no wonder she’s soft on ya, you probably remind her of me and the boys back in the day.”

Jake frowned at that.

“Nevermind that, I’m Nick or Goose, choose what you want,” Nick, Goose, said, reaching out his hand to shake.

“Jake,” He replied, shaking his hand, looking the guy up and down, seeing the grey on his temples. “You used to be an aviator?”

“Old men, can’t be on active duty?”

“The Navy would be too busy worrying about paying for your back pain.”

Goose honked out a laugh that made his callsign make sense.

“I was a backseater, RIO, then after I left I became a civilian flight instructor,” Goose said. “Single-seater?”

“Yep,” Jake said, finally deciding to sit down beside the older man. “Lucky guess?”

It was Jake’s turn to be scrutinized as he was looked up and down, “Nah, I just know the type, do you prefer Jake or Hangman?”

Jake’s lip twitched down before he settled on a blank mask. He used to have no shame regarding his callsign, so who gives a shit if he misspelled a couple words here and there. Until.

“All you do is leave good men hanging! Goddamn executioner of your own squad!”

“Hangman! Smoke in the ai-”

“Lieutenant Jacob “Hangman” Seresin, you did everything you could, dismissed.”

He took a deep breath that was more shaky than he’ll ever admit, “Jake’s good,” he said, flashing a smirk as he took another sip of his drink.

The older man’s eyes softened and he gave Jake a small smile.

“How about you?” Jake asked, realizing it was polite to reciprocate the question.

“Eh, either is fine, they’re both the same to me,” Nick said, shrugging.

“Doesn’t Goose remind you of the thrill of being in a jet?” Jake asked, swirling his beer bottle around.

“Nah, reminds me more of hanging around the boys,” Nick replied. “Still see them, but it ain’t the same as it used to be. Plus, I think I’ve had enough excitement for this life,” Nick said chuckling, leaning back and both men wincing as they heard his spine crack.

“You’re showing your age, old man,” Jake muttered, looking at him worriedly, wondering if he was about to keel over. “You hangin’ in there, gramps?”

Nick chuckled, “Not that old, brat, I have a son your age. He’s 27.”

“How old do you think I am?”

“Hmmm, 21?”

Jake squawked in offense, “You’re actin’ like this my second time drinkin’ or somethin’!”

Nick raised a brow at him, “Is it not?”

Jake glared at him and all Goose saw was the same pout on his son’s face when he withheld the cookies from him.

“ ‘M 23,” Jake muttered.

“See? Not that far off, no need to get your feathers all ruffled, birdy,” Nick said, honking out a laugh.

Jake grumbled, but Goose could see the smile behind the sip of the beer bottle.

—

“Mav, did the Navy bio-engineer you and Ice’s DNA to create a son we don’t know about?”

Mav paused, looking at his phone to check if this was Goose he was talking to. “Not that I know off,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“Kid, tall, blond hair, green eyes, naval aviator, technical flying style with some of your style, has your social skills too,” Goose added the last part thoughtfully.

“Is that a compliment to the kid or an insult?”

“....Anyways, you made sure you don’t have some kid we don’t know about, right? Because if you gave me a nephew and didn’t make me his godfather I will ground you, no jets for a month.”

“Let me check with Ice.”

—

“Hello my sweet-precious-baby-mini-me,” Goose crowed to the phone as his son groaned on the other line.

“Dad, I am taller and bigger than you.”

“You still get your good looks from me, honey, how’s the deployment going?”

“The other pilots are shitheads, the amount of ego here is astounding.”

“Naval aviators,” Goose said, shrugging before realizing his son can’t see that. “There’s never a shortage of ego, say these pilots are younger than you?”

“Some of them are, some of them are older,” Bradley said slowly, wondering where this conversation was going.

“Good, you’ll have enough practice then.”

“Practice!? Practice for what!? Dad?”

“All good things come to those who wait, Brad-Brad.”

—

Hey gramps, I’m being’ deployed to Top Gun, Hard Deck?

Sure, Jakey

—

Gramps flew with pops? Goose and Maverick ejected. Goose got an honorable discharge. Holy shit.

Bradshaw was Nick’s son?

Is that why he was angry?

—

Hangman was face to face with Bradshaw, anger coursing through his veins. Doesn’t he understand? If they couldn’t fly like Maverick, they would all end up dead. Dead.

Is he angry because of hop 31? Pissed on behalf of his Dad? But, Nick wasn’t angry at Pete, right?

You can find out.

“Come on, take a walk with me, son.”

No. Nick doesn’t deserve that.

“You have a family Bradshaw,” Jake said slowly, watching as Bradshaw’s hackles raised up even higher.

“Yeah, kid is simultaneously too hesitant and reckless at the same time, and I thought my wingman is the reason I’m gray…”

“You’re almost 60 gramps, that’s the reason why you’re gray.”

“Don’t let them lose you because you can’t think straight. Feelings ain’t matter here, not if you want to live,” Jake gritted out, shoulder checking the other man as he left the room.

—

They’re alive.

He saved them.

Thank fucking god because in all the hours he spent on stand-by in his jet, he still didn’t know what the fuck to say to Nick if he came back, but his brother and son didn’t.

A selfish part of him wondered if Nick would still care if they both died.

Probably not. Thank god he wasn’t a complete fuck up.

—

The celebration died down and he was walking back from his long-ass debrief. Getting reamed for launching without orders.

He felt his phone ping with a text.

Come over for dinner when you’re onshore.

Jake gave a small smile at that as he sent back a reply.

—

“Hangman! Hangman! Lieutenant Seresin! Jake!”

It was the inverted version of Mav calling out for Rooster during that first day in the tarmac. Except Jake was already turning around once Mav said Lieutenant.

“Jesus, Mav, calm down, I hear ya, I ain’t goin’ anywhere yet, pops,” Jake said, raising his hands up as he flicked his toothpick to the side of his mouth. “Don’t stretch your legs too far tryin’ to keep up with me,'' Jake said, smirking.

Mav rolled his eyes upwards as he put his hands on his hips, as if asking god for patience. Heh.

“I wasn’t able to talk to you one-on-one after the mission, kid, how are you?” Mav said, eyes softening as he looked at Jake up and down.

Jake felt self-conscious, as he straightened up instinctively, which was dumb because surely Mav wouldn’t notice that he was eating less. That he felt more tired each day. That he doesn’t know what kind of man he is.

“I’m fine, Mav, just thinking,” is all Jake could say.

“Don’t think too hard, kid, you might hurt yourself,” Mav said, giving Jake a smile, but there’s a glint in his eye that told him he meant it.

Mav’s an ace.

“Do you think about it, often?” Jake blurted out.

Mav furrowed his brow, “Think about what?”

Killing people.

No, not now.

“Nothing, nothing, sorry, pops, long day, just thinkin’ about how much the big bosses lectures on and on and on,” Hangman said, cringing at the babbling he just did.

Mav frowned, looking unconvinced, but gave a grin when command’s lectures were brought up, “I just learned to tune it out and forget. After you hear the first one, it all sounds the same, anyways.”

Jake barked a laugh at that, “You’re a menace, Mav.”

Mav grinned at Jake’s laugh, shoulders relaxing as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

“Anyways, I’m here to ask if you’re free tonight? My family and I are having dinner together and I want you to join in,” Mav said. “Some of the other Daggers will be there.”

He felt a pang of regret when he realized he’d have to decline, and it must have shown on his face, when Mav gave an understanding smile.

“Have plans, already, huh?”

“Yeah, a,” grandpa, family, mentor, father-figure-, “friend invited me for dinner, I haven’t seen him in a while, and yeah. I wanna hang out with ya pops and the squad, cross my heart, it’s just that I already got plans, and-”

Mav cut him off with a chuckle, “I get it, kid, don’t work yourself up, there will always be next time. Just promise me I won’t have to bail you out of jail tonight and you have fun.”

Jail with Nick? What a joke.

“Aye, Aye, Captain!” Jake said, giving Mav a salute, smirking as Mav shooed him away.

“Yeah, yeah, go on, brat, don’t cause trouble, you hear me!?”

“As if you can talk.”

—

Jake took a deep breath as he turned off the ignition of his truck, grabbing the beers he brought. He ain’t gonna come to a dinner empty handed, and Nick was more of a beer guy, rather than a wine guy.

He went up to the door and knocked.

“Hangman?”

“Mav?” Jake said, blinking his eyes in shock.

“Jakey! You made it, kiddo,” Nick greeted warmly, gently pushing Mav away to envelop Jake in a tight hug. Jake closed his eyes and leaned in, burying his eyes on the older man’s shoulder, trying to reciprocate the hug despite his hands being full.

“Here, let me take that from you, buddy, and you two can catch up for a little bit,” Mav said when Jake pulled away from the hug, taking the beer from his hands.

“It’s okay, pops–”

��How come Mav gets pops, but you call me gramps?” Nick said, pouting as he slung an arm around Jake’s shoulder.

“Because,” Jake said dumbly, still a bit shock at seeing Mav.

“Ahh forgot to tell ya I invited my former wingman, Mav and of course you’ve heard of my son, Brad-Brad,” Nick said leading Jake to the kitchen. “Some other guys will be coming, later, some of them are part of Mav’s squad.”

“We’re well-acquainted Goose, heck, the kid even told me he couldn’t come to hangout with us because he had plans with a friend,” Mav said grinning at the two of them.

“Awwww, so you do see me as a friend, huh, Jakey?” Goose cooed, ruffling Jake’s hair as Jake pushed him away.

“I didn’t know you were invitin’ me to the thing I was already invited to!” Jake protested, blushing.

“Hey Dad, where’s the— holy shit, Hangman, you came?” Bradshaw Jr. said, walking into the kitchen. “Mav said you said no, did something happen?” Rooster asked, furrowing his brow.

Jake finally had a side by side view of the two Bradshaw’s. Definitely related. Should have figured that out years ago.

“Ohhh good that you’re here Brad, here’s the baby brother I promised you years ago,” Nick said, steering Jake by the shoulders to push him towards Bradley. “You’ll love him, play nice, okay?”

“That is a pain in my ass, grown-ass man,” Bradley said, blinking slowly as if he couldn’t understand what was happening. “How the hell did you two even meet?”

“Oh, I found him in a bar acting like a mixture of Mav and Ice and I just gotta keep him,” Nick said casually.

“Baby brother-?”

“Congratulations, you’re adopted, kid,” Mav said, taking a sip of his beer. “Wait til Ice sees you.”

“Ice?”

“Iceman,” Nick said. “Tom-Tom, Tommy, Tomcat, you will probably be calling him gramps.”

“I am not calling the COMPACFLT, gramps,” Jake said, jaw-dropping.

“No, you will be calling my brother, gramps, Jakey, plus they already expect it, they have heard many stories about you.”

“You talk about me to the Iceman!?” Jake said, his pitch rising an octave.

“And me, and everyone else, I was wondering why I haven’t heard about this aviator kid Goose here was talking about, started thinking he adopted an air force kid or something,” Mav said grinning. “He only really called you Jakey.”

“Or Jake-Jake, Jay, Baby J –” Bradley started, smirking at a flushing Jake.

“THAT’s enough,” Jake said, pushing at Bradley to cut him off, but Bradley just laughed.

“Boys enough. Bradley, stop teasing your brother. Jakey, no pushing,” Goose said wagging a finger at them.

“Yeah, yeah, dad,” Bradley said, rolling his eyes.

“Also, we need to make a custody contract, Goose, I want partial custody of these two,” Mav said looking way too serious as he pulled out a pen and a piece of paper.

“We need to wait for the other boys to show up first, I have a feeling Cyclone or Iceman would be calling dibs,” Goose said grinning.

“What?” Jake said, confused.

“It means, you’re stuck with us now, Jake-Jake,” Bradley said, ruffling the blond’s hair.

—

“You named your kid, Bradley Bradshaw?”

“I wanted a little Brad-Brad.”

#fanfic #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fandom #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #pete maverick mitchell #mavdad #tom iceman kazansky #bradley rooster bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #parental nick goose bradshaw #cyclone and ice and the other flyboys are dads here too #i just like the thought of Jake being adopted and be given love #bradley is gonna be a big brother in this one #jake hangman seresin needs a hug

329 notes · View notes