#cyclone x you

[bullet-prooflove]

Rumours: Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x Reader

Tagging: @chickensrule @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @justameresimp @lxaah11 @librarian1002 @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond 

You don’t know about the affair, not until Beau tells you.

Apparently, a couple of the graduates were off base one night and caught sight of their Vice Admiral in his civvies, leaving a restaurant with a woman in a little black dress. The heat in his gaze when he looked at her…

It’s clear they’re sleeping together.

There are other sightings. All of Beau with the same woman, all in compromising positions. Stolen kisses in doorways when it’s raining, his hand resting on her hip as he leads her from the theatre, whispering something salacious into her ear.

His poor wife, they say, sitting at home waiting for him while he’s out playing the field.

It’s at a retirement dinner for one of the Majors that the scuttlebutt reaches its peak. He’s seen leaving early with one of the JAG officers, a Lieutenant Commander, his hand on her lower back as he holds open the car door.

Beau doesn’t realise he’s a topic of conversation until Warlock approaches him. It’s becoming an issue, the other man tells him, you’re losing their respect.

Over what? he asks and then Warlock is forced to tell him.

He’s confused at first because not once in your entire relationship has ever he stepped out on you, the thought hasn’t even crossed his mind despite the deployments. He listens as Warlock recounts the events and he checks each one of them off in his head and he realises in every single occurrence the woman that he’s been seen with…

It's you.

It’s only when they bring Maverick in for a chat do they understand what’s happened.

There’s a lot of fresh faces on base and you’ve been deployed for over six months. They’ve all just assumed that his wife is the little lady that runs the house he lives in, like most of the other Vice Admiral’s wives. Never seen, never heard from. Just existing in the background.

It doesn’t help that you kept your maiden name when you married or the fact that Beau hates clutter, so he doesn’t keep so much as a picture on his desk. Why would he? He has them all on his phone.

You find the whole thing hilarious when he comes home and tells you that night. You’re sitting in front of the coffee table, your files spread out across it as you make notes in your legal pad, wearing  his old college t-shirt and a pair of paint splattered leggings.

The two of you have a perfectly good dining table in the kitchen, but you never use it. The living room is your space, the soft sound of Norah Jones playing in the background and the scent of wild sage and sea salt from the candle you have burning on the mantlepiece.

“It’s not funny.” He tells you as he sits down on the floor alongside of you, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

“The woman you’re having an affair with is actually your wife.” You remind him, tapping your pen upon the legal pad. “It’s a little funny.”

“You know I’d never…” He trails off as his lips brush over the curve of your shoulder because the thought of it is so repugnant to him. He doesn’t want to think about another woman in your bed, trying to take your place.

“I know.” You tell him, inclining your head so that he can read the honesty in your expression. “I would never either.”

He’s never doubted you, not for a minute.

His thumb trails along your jaw, guiding your mouth to his and he kisses you with a tenderness he reserves for no one else. He loves these moments, the ones where it’s just the two of you, at home, simply being with one another.

“Show and tell.” You say softly as his hands begin to wander, his lips seeking out that delicious little spot just underneath the hinge of your jaw, the one that makes you say his name.

“Hm.” He mumbles distractedly as his fingertips delve under the hem of the t-shirt, skirting along the line of your bra.

“I mean it Beau.” You utter, your head tipping back as he guides the shirt up and over your body, before tossing it onto the couch.

“I’ll take it into consideration.” He whispers against your skin as his fingers tug at the waistband of your leggings. “Right now, I’ve got other things I want to focus on.”

***

Beau chooses to address the issue with the Top Gun graduates. They’re fierce, loyal and above all else, he knows that they’ll put a stop to those rumours that are circulating the base. He can’t have his subordinates doubting him, he needs them to trust him, in the field and off it. News of an affair erodes that, it makes him seem duplicitous, makes them question his motives and that leads to mistakes. People get hurt or worse killed. So, yea, now he’s taking your advice, he’s doing show and tell.

“Final order of business.” He says as he stands in front of them, hands clasped together. “I need to address the rumours regarding the affair I’m having with a JAG officer.”

He senses the mood shift, backs straighten, and all eyes are on him. He nods at Warlock, whose waiting at the side door before he opens it. There’s a low murmur when you step inside, a few elbow nudges because the source of the scuttlebutt has now entered the room and is now standing alongside their Rear Admirable clad in a navy-blue JAG uniform.

Briefly Beau wonders what they expect from this latest development.

Maybe the whole, we’re just colleagues’ speech.

“This is my wife.” He introduces you to the group. “She’s a Lieutenant Commander in JAG and recently returned from a six-month deployment overseas. If you need an attorney, she’s the best we’ve got.”

It’s true, you excel at your position, and he couldn’t be prouder of you. You’ve achieved so much throughout your career and one of the reasons he’s here today is because he hates the idea of your successes being diminished by gossip.

“You have two minutes for questions.” He tells the graduates before folding his arms over his chest.

Phoenix is the first one to speak up, she raises her hand and Beau inclines his head towards her.

“How long have you been married?” She asks, leaning forward on her desk.

“Seven…” You pause because the deployments make it harder to keep track, you’ve been away for some anniversaries and home for others. You look to Beau for clarification.

“Eight.” He says, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a small smile because he knows you can never remember the exact timings. The only reason he does is because he’s meticulous about putting information into his calendar.

“Eight years.” You correct yourself. “Together for three before that.”

Rooster is next up; his elbows are on his desk before he raises two fingers.

“How does it work with the deployments?”

“Patience.” Beau informs the Lieutenant, rubbing his palm across his jawline. “Open communication.”

You don’t know the graduates, this is the first time you’ve met them, but you think you can see something underneath Rooster’s demeanour.  There’s a reason he asked that question, so you elaborate.

“You have to be honest with each other, talk about your feelings, the good ones and the bad ones especially on the lead up to it.” You reiterate before gesturing between you and Beau. “We talk as often as we can, keep each other up to date with what’s going on in our lives, even if it’s just the day-to-day stuff. If one of us doesn’t get in contact for a few days, we try not to take it too personally. I know that life on the base can get hectic and he knows sometimes you can’t just get a signal in the middle of the Pacific.”

That gets a little laugh and it’s good to see that there’s a little humour in them. You hate it when people take themselves too seriously.

“Care packages.” Beau supplements into the conversation.

“Oh, sometimes when I’m away he sends me things from home, and I send him stuff from my travels.” You tell the group, leaning back against the podium at the front of the room. “Just a little something to say we’re thinking of each other.”

You can see you’ve given Rooster some food for thought. You wonder what his circumstances are, if there’s a girl in the background, he’s thinking of getting serious about.

“Have you ever thought about giving it up?” Hangman asks, a cocktail stick dangling out of his mouth. “The job for the sake of the marriage?”

Another one with something on his mind, you think. Although you don’t spy a wedding ring on his finger, you suspect something that might be heading that way. You’re good at reading people, it comes in handy in the courtroom.

“Yea.” You answer honestly, with a small shrug of the shoulders. “We’ve talked about it a few times, but this is who I am, the same way it’s who he is. Neither of us will compromise on that, if it’s right you shouldn’t have to.”

Hangman nods knowingly before Beau interrupts.

“Alright, your two minutes is up.” His palm comes to rest upon your lower back, thumb skating over the vertebrae. “We have other places to be, so good luck with your training.”

It isn’t until you reach the corridor outside that he slows his step. The two of you find yourself alone for a minute, a rarity on such a busy military base. You lean against one wall, while he stands rigid in front of the other, both hands coming to rest on his hips.

“Those were some tough questions, right?” He asks you, his mouth setting into a grim line before he looks at you.

“That last one…” You shake your head. “The job for the sake of the marriage, that felt a little too close to home.”

Beau nods his agreement before his gaze meets yours.

“You know I’d never…”

“No, I know.” You assure him, pushing away from the wall and coming to stand before him. You reach for his collar straightening it just a little, despite the fact it didn’t require any intervention. “But it is getting harder to leave.”

Then don’t. He wants to say but instead he bites his tongue because he’s a good husband and it’s a lot more complicated than that. Your palms come to rest on his chest, he can tell you’re preoccupied with something. It’s in the way your brows crease just a little.

“What is it?” He asks you, studying your expression for clues.

You’re interrupted by the door opening as Warlock steps out into the corridor, the encrypted tablet clasped in his hands.

“We have a full schedule today...” He pauses, his finger lingering over the calendar as the two of you step apart. “I can give you a minute.”

“He’s all yours Solomon.” You say with a smile as you draw away from him.

He can already feel you slipping through his fingers, he isn’t sure what it is that gives him that sensation but it’s acute. There’s a trepidation in the pit of his stomach, something he only gets when it comes to your deployments but it’s far too soon for that. You’ve barely been home more than a couple of weeks.

“I’ll catch up with you later.” You promise before turning on your heel and striding down the corridor with purpose.

It reminds him for the moment of the first time he saw you, walking into the courtroom with your head held high, that black leather legal binder tucked under your arm. He’d been sitting in the gallery watching the trial of an Ensign accused of smuggling coke through produce in the kitchens. The idiot had been under his command at the time and elected for a court martial. You had eviscerated his case; it was both beautiful and painful to watch.

He spends the rest of the afternoon distracted, wishing the two of you had had a chance to finish that conversation.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Admirals Strike Back - Cyclone

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson / Wife!Reader (Mitchell!Reader)

Word Count: 2.1 k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Consensual and Very Much Legal Age-Gap Relationship (About 15 years); Non-Traditional Father-Daughter Relationship (Between Maverick and Reader); Humor; Cyclone's a Grump; Maverick Becomes a Grump; Use of "You," No Y/N, No Physical Description; Named Simpson!OC Kids

Summary: Maverick knew that his somewhat estranged daughter was married. He just didn't know who she married.

Master List

There was one major rule in the Simpson household. Work ended at the door. The Navy was not allowed to step inside and into your relationship. If Beau needed to deal with the Navy on his personal time, he needed to go into his office.

But Beau was going to have to break that rule tonight.

Beau could hear the sounds of your daughters from down the hall as he walked into your house and felt some of the weight already melting off of his shoulders from his long day.

“Daddy!” Maggie, your eldest daughter, squealed, slipping down from her seat.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Beau bent down and scooped her up into his arms with a bright smile on his face. Setting her on his hip, Beau pressed a kiss to her cheek and fixed the bow in her hair.

“How was your day at school?” Beau asked, walking slowly into the kitchen.

“I got a sticker for being a good line leader!” Maggie announced, causing Beau to smile proudly at her.

“Very good, sweetie. We’re so proud of you.”

“Mommy said that I could have ice cream,” Maggie stated, causing you to turn around from the sink.

“After you finish eating your vegetables, Mags.”

“That sounds fair to me,” Beau replied, setting Maggie back down in her seat. “And I’ll throw in some sprinkles if you finish that broccoli.”

“Promise?” Maggie asked, holding up her pinky finger.

“Promise,” Beau agreed, wrapping his far larger pinky around her own.

Moving onto your younger daughter, Beau clucked his tongue with fake disapproval, causing Parker to grin and giggle up at her dad.

“Ms. Parker, you have far too much tomato sauce on your face,” Beau stated, reaching over to grab a paper towel. Gently holding your daughter’s chin, Beau wiped the sauce off of your daughter’s face before planting a kiss on her chubby cheek. “Were you a good girl for Mommy?”

“Yup!” Parker returned quickly, wearing a mischievous grin that Beau knew was going to give him heart attacks in the future.

“Mostly,” you teased your youngest as you finished up with the dishes.

“Sorry I’m late,” Beau apologized to you, walking over to give you a quick peck in greeting.

“Well, after last night, I assumed that something big was going on,” you assured your husband, setting a plate into the dishwasher.

Beau had gotten a call right around bedtime last night and he didn’t come to bed until the early morning. And you knew what that meant. Something big was going down. And as the Air Boss, your husband was going to be heavily involved. Beau glanced over at your daughters, who were still eating their dinner, before turning back to you.

“You want to break the rule, don’t you?” you guessed, turning to face your husband.

“Am I allowed to break the rule?” Beau asked, causing you to smirk a bit.

“Permission granted, Admiral. Proceed,” you replied, drying off your hands.

“Well, we needed to call in a specialist for this particular event,” Beau started off, folding his arms across his chest. “And we called in someone a little . . . familiar to you.”

You frowned for a bit, your eyes darting back and forth as you ran through the short list of Navy personnel that you were ‘familiar’ with when it suddenly clicked. Setting down the dish towel, you turned to your husband with an incredulous look.

“Maverick?”

“Yes,” Beau confirmed, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“I thought that he was taken off active-duty years ago,” you replied, causing Beau to nod.

“He was, but Iceman disagreed, and called him in.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, glancing over at the girls.

And how did you know Pete “Maverick” Mitchell? Well, you had technically known him your entire life.

Your mother and Pete Mitchell had a brief tryst that resulted in your existence. But Maverick was never very much around in your life, though you only found out recently, due to your mother’s actions. But after she passed away, you started digging to find out more about your father and reached out to Maverick.

Your relationship with your dad was very slow going. He didn’t even know that you were married to Beau. He knew that you were married with two little girls, but he didn’t know the name of your husband. He never asked. And you didn’t tell him.

“Did you want your whiskey then?” you joked quietly, spinning your wedding band around your finger.

“Not tonight,” Beau replied, straightening up. “We have an early morning tomorrow.” He took a step forward and gently took your hand into his own, rubbing your skin with his thumb. “And you’re alright? With him being in town?”

“Of course, I’m fine with that,” you returned, squeezing your husband’s hand. “I was just surprised.” Reaching up to grab your husband’s shoulders, you massaged his tense muscles. “And between the two of us, I think that you’re the one who’s less alright with him being in town.”

“I just need him to follow my orders,” Beau sighed, shaking his head.

“Oh,” you cooed, cupping your husband’s cheeks with your hands, “you’re definitely going to need some more whiskey. I’ll pick up some more tomorrow for you.”

Pressing a teasing kiss to his lips, you giggled when he pulled you in for more. And you were happy to return it, up until your daughter started screaming bloody murder.

“EW! Daddy! You have to put a dollar in the kissing jar!” Maggie yelled, pointing at the jar in the corner of the kitchen.

Similar to a swear jar, the kissing jar in your household was for when your daughters, mostly Maggie, thought that you and Beau were getting just a little too lovey dovey in front of them. The kissing jar money mostly went to ice cream or other desserts that you bought the girls, which only motivated them to call you and Beau out on it more.

“I will,” Beau promised, smiling over at Maggie. “Right after I give Mommy one last kiss.”

“That’s two dollars!” Maggie demanded as Beau pressed another kiss to your lips.

~~~~~

It was a few days after the mission and you waited with your two girls and the other families for the newly formed Dagger Squad to return to Miramar. Beau had called you yesterday from Hawaii, where the planes stopped to refuel and rest, before heading on to Miramar today. And right on time—which you expected nothing less from your husband—you spotted the planes in the distance.

Once they all landed and taxied off the runway and you were given the all clear from the grounds crew, you pointed your daughters in the direction of the plane that you knew Beau was on. Maggie took off running, already yelling for him, while Parker was happy to catch a ride from you.

“Come on, let’s go see Daddy,” you cooed to your youngest daughter before walking off.

“Who’s that woman?” Hangman wondered aloud, watching you walk across the tarmac.

“Out of your league,” Phoenix replied, not even having to glance up.

“Who do you think she’s here for?”

“Probably her spouse, judging by the toddler in her arms,” Bob added, sharing a look with his pilot.

“She’s probably . . .” Rooster trailed off, blinking with surprise at your appearance. Because you looked oddly familiar to the woman that Maverick showed him a picture of in the infirmary. Maverick mentioned that the woman was his daughter and that they were slowly reconnecting, but that they weren’t very close yet. “Holy shit. Who is she here for?”

“Did Hangman’s bullshit transfer that quickly to you? You were in his backseat for a couple of hours,” Phoenix scoffed, causing Rooster to shake his head.

“No, that’s Maverick’s daughter.”

“Maverick has a daughter?” Hangman asked, turning around.

“Yeah, one that he’s not really close with. So, who is she . . . you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Maverick and Cyclone stepped off the plane side by side, chatting about what was to come in the next few days since Iceman’s replacement was not yet decided. But before Cyclone could get too wrapped up in the conversation, Warlock tapped Cyclone on the arm and gestured towards the hangar.

Cyclone turned and instantly smiled when he spotted Maggie running towards him, pumping her little arms to run as fast as she could. You trailed behind her with Parker on your hip, but you waved to him as soon as you locked eyes. Maverick followed Cyclone’s gaze, expecting the daughters that Cyclone mentioned very briefly in passing to be teenagers.

But when little six-year-old Maggie leapt into her dad’s waiting arms, Maverick was quietly surprised.

“You’re back!”

“I am back, yes,” Cyclone agreed, hugging his daughter to his chest. “Did you miss me?”

“Yeah, a lot! And Mommy was sad without you!”

“Well, she does like me just a little bit,” Cyclone joked, setting his daughter on his hip. “Were you a good girl for her?”

“Like I promised,” Maggie agreed, holding up her pinky finger. “Parker threw up though.”

“When?” Cyclone asked, instantly concerned.

“Mommy said that she ate too fast and then ran around too much,” Maggie replied, shrugging her shoulders. “It was a few days ago.”

“Daddy!” Parker yelled, causing Beau to look away from Maggie.

You set down a wiggling Parker onto the ground, letting her run the last of the way to her dad. And then you turned to face your own, who was staring at you in shock. You shot him a sheepish smile.

“Surprise,” you breathed out, waving to Maverick, who waved dumbly back.

Cyclone, meanwhile, picked up Parker and held both of his girls. Pressing a kiss to both of their cheeks, Cyclone walked over to you. Turning away from Maverick, you smiled up at your husband and gently cupped his cheeks to pull him in for a soft kiss.

“You’re finally home,” you sighed in relief, rubbing his cheeks with your thumb.

“We’re all home. In one piece,” Cyclone reported, causing you to let out a breath.

Pulling your husband in for another kiss, you wrapped your arms around your little family for a moment. In the background, Hondo slowly waved his hand in front of Maverick’s eyes, shocked himself at the turn of events, but far more amused than Maverick was about it. Pulling away from your husband, you turned to greet your dad.

“Hey, Mav,” you called softly, walking over to him. You gave him a quick hug and squeeze in greeting, all while waiting for his reaction to actually drop. “How are you?”

“Shocked,” Maverick replied, glancing between you and Cyclone. “You . . . he’s your husband?”

“For the past eight years,” Cyclone stated, adjusting his hold on your daughters.

“But . . .” Maverick blinked rapidly, turning back to you. “I mean, isn’t he a bit . . .”

“He is still your superior officer,” Cyclone reminded Maverick, causing you to shoot him the same look that you always did when he got a bit snappy during Navy social events.

“Yes, we’re aware that there’s an age gap between us,” you assured your dad, turning back to Maverick.

“How did the two you of you even meet?”

“Well, I had this ad up on a sugar baby website and—”

“—You know that I don’t like that joke,” Cyclone interjected, causing you to shoot him a playful smile while Maverick’s heart attack receded.

“We met at a wedding actually. Mutual friends. We sat next to each other at the same table and spent most of the night talking. I managed to convince him to dance and then we got together about two weeks after that.”

“Ten days,” Cyclone replied, pressing a kiss to Maggie’s head.

“And these are your daughters?” Maverick asked, looking over at your girls.

“Yes, this is Maggie. She’s six. And that’s Parker. She’s three,” you introduced, pointing out your daughters to Maverick.

“They’re beautiful,” Maverick commented, causing Cyclone to nod towards you.

“They get it from her.”

Maverick nodded in return and you and Cyclone excused yourselves, walking off to greet Warlock’s family. He blinked dumbly, still in disbelief that the fact that his daughter was married to someone like Cyclone of all people. Cyclone? Really? The man was an outstanding aviator, but he was probably at least fifteen years older than you and a stick in the mud.

Hondo’s barely contained laughter caused Maverick to turn towards the warrant officer.

“What?”

“Well, isn’t it ironic that for all the crap that they give you for running around with Penny, an admiral’s daughter, that your own daughter married an admiral? And Cyclone at that.”

“Shut up, Hondo,” Maverick sighed, causing Hondo to burst out laughing and nudge him in the arm.

[multifan2022]

Cyclone x Mavsdaughter 4

Masterpage

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Your head snapped to the side as you heard your daughter's voice. You watched as Penny called for her to stay on the deck. But Emery was a daddy's girl at heart, and no one ever could stop her from getting to Beau. Your body tensed as Beau crouched down to scoop her into his arms. You could feel the shock in the group around you. Could hear the whispers of “Daddy?” And “What the fuck��. That last one came from Rooster you knew. Emerys voice cut threw the panic though “Mommy! Look Daddys here!” 

Beau looked at you and even with his sunglasses on you knew he was looking at you with sympathy. He knew this isn't how you wanted anything to come out, but life was pretty cruel. “The better question is why you're here little lady.. Why aren't you at school?” Beau asked as you got closer to him, having broken away from the group. You answered and told him it was canceled, trying to ignore the glare Maverick was giving you as you stepped next to your little family. 

Beau leaned down and kissed your forehead, resting his free hand on your hip as he looked at the group of aviators over your head. Javy and Jake looked unsurprised, because Jake already knew, and what Jake knew Javy knew. Nat, Hondo, Bob, Payback and Fanboy all looked confused. The others had run off to play on their own, not being part of the group in the same way. But when his eyes landed on Rooster, he could see the pure anger rolling off the man. One that he desperately wanted to shield you from, but didnt know how to.

When he pulled back, he could see tears in your eyes. At this moment you weren't Captain Simpson, his strong beautiful wife. You were the girl he watched stand at your tap out ceremony alone. The one who cried when a random woman came and tapped her out. The girl who refused to believe for the longest time that he was even remotely interested in her. The one he didnt see again until you entered Top Gun. The one who had to rebuild herself with the help of himself after being left by not only her father, but her best friend and first love. He wasn't happy to see the sadness and vulnerability in your eyes. 

“If you want.. You can invite them over, I'll call Solomon, I'm sure they will watch Em for the night so we can all talk..” Beau said, moving his hand from your hip to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You nodded but didn't make a move to do anything, so he sighed and kissed your forehead again. “Go home, I'll meet you there.” You didn't look back as you kissed Emerys cheek and told her to be good for her uncle. Practically running to your jeep before speeding out of the parking lot. 

Beau sighed again, setting Em down “Baby go get your stuff from Penny and say thank you. You're gonna go stay with Uncle Solo for a while ok?” The little girl nodded and talked animatedly about her uncle's dogs for a moment before running to get her stuff. Cyclone turned and let himself fall back into work mode in a nanosecond as he looked down at Maverick. The shorter man was glaring at him in a way that he assumed was supposed to be intimidating, but he was nowhere near scared.. Like at all. 

“I'll text you our address.. You can show up in an hour and we can all talk like adults. Or not, it doesn't really matter to me. But this is probably your last chance to have a shot at being in your daughter or granddaughter's life.. So choose carefully Maverick.” 

~~~

Thirty minutes later the squad was following Mavericks bike as they passed through a clearly gated community. The security guard waved them on, having already received a call from Beau and watched sadly as you pulled through crying. You were both highly respected members of the community and he hated seeing you upset. The gps led him into the driveway of a gorgeous 2 story Crosby style home. Phoenix gasped as she and Bob got out of her car and commented about how it looked custom. Even from the outside it was clear the home was both lived in and taken care of. Your jeep was parked in the open 4 car garage, waiting for Beaus truck. Three bikes, one that was clearly for Emery, a pogo stick, skateboard, roller blades and a handful of other toys were leaned against the far wall. 

Rooster didn't know how to feel about any of this. He couldn't see past his anger. Anger that you had moved on and he hadn't. That some rather large part of him always thought you would just be waiting on him. He was mad that Emery had dark hair, but it didn't have the golden brown color his did, it had the deep chocolate brown that Beaus did. That her eyes were green instead of brown. That her last name as well as yours were Simpson instead of Bradshaw. 

Deep deep down he knew he had nobody to blame but himself, and maybe a lack of therapy but mostly himself. But he couldn't stop looking at this huge house and comparing it to the bungalow his parents had left him. His was a nice home, but this was immaculate in comparison and it only made his anger hotter. When they stepped inside he took in the huge wood doors and the stone floors clicked against everyone's steps. While everyone besides Maverick ooh and ahhed over how absolutely breathtaking the home was, he just watched you. 

They all followed you down the hall, looking into a huge living room with a 70 in TV and a large wrap around couch. Then an equally as beautiful kitchen and dining room, before they entered a billiards room. All the guys making comments about wanting to play as they stepped back outside and fell silent again. You had led them to the private deck out back. It has multiple seats and tables scattered around it. But it was clear you wanted them to sit at the long one with 10 or so seats. Phoenix and Hondo were busy gushing over the bird of paradise everywhere, while Javy was talking about the pool with a little waterfall and hot tub. 

They didn't notice when you crossed the deck and stepped into sliding glass doors and dropped thick curtains, but Mav and Rooster did. When you walked back towards them you nervously looked back over your shoulder, hoping to see your husband but he clearly isn't back yet. You didn't know but Solomon had met Beau at the car to take Emery. He was now speeding across the neighborhood to get back to you. He didn't want to leave you alone as much as you didnt want to be alone. You stepped back to the table and sighed, “I ah.. I ordered pizzas.. There's a fridge right here by the grill.. Its got beer and water if anyone wants some..” 

You tried to swallow past the thickness in your throat as a few of them got up and helped themselves. Jake almost felt bad when he noticed how nervous you were, and by the end of the night the guilt of wanting this to happen would be eating him alive. As he looked around his eyes watching the beautiful dark skinned man grab two beers, he wondered how he would feel if someone found out about him and Javy and outed them before they were ready. He thought about pulling you aside and apologizing but knew that would just make things worse. When everyone resettled you anxiously tapped your fingers until Hondo sat his hand on top of yours and squeezed. 

“I feel like a dummy.. I've known you were married for years and never thought to ask. It's shocking to me that it's Admiral Simpson of course.. But now that I think back I can see it.. He looks at you differently. Softer look, softer tone, I can't believe I never second guessed it.” He squeezed your hand again before pulling back, and him speaking seemed to be what everyone needed to start talking. 

Phoenix was next, “Yeah I obviously don't know you well but it is crazy to think of Cyclone as a husband.. Even more as a dad. He's just so stoic and domineering, I dont think Ive ever really pictured him having a life outside of work.” She pauses clearly contemplating something before speaking softer “Which now that I think about it is kinda shitty..” She had seen the way he held you, kissed your head and taken on a burden you clearly couldn't. The soft way he looked at both you and your child on the beach. How he smiled down at Emery as she ran to him. It was clear that there was a side to Cyclone they were not privy to. 

The others nodded in agreement as you smiled shyly. “Beau is.. Complicated I guess you could say. He very much has a work life and a home life and beyond me he likes to keep them separate. We try to not interact much at work, so that people aren't saying things..” You look at Hangman out of the corner of your eye and see him cringe a little. “It's also not widely known, clearly, that we are married. People see Beau as someone who's married to his job. Noone thinks of people like him as people who do things like go to their daughters soccer games and such. Between that and me not changing my name it's really only known in the higher ups. And since I don't get moved around a lot thankfully, it's not gossiped about.” Sighing you look down at the table and start picking at a spot before speaking quieter “It's mostly just talk about how people didn't realize Maverick had a daughter.. So that kept the spotlight off my marriage.” 

The group was silent again as they all turned to Mav who had an unreadable expression on his face. Rooster scoffed, not even trying to hide it behind a swig of beer as he looked at you. You just stared back at him, daring him to say what you knew he wanted to say. It only took a moment or two before he broke “So how long after you left did you wait before jumping into bed with a commanding officer? That's how you got out of Mav pulling your papers too huh.” Even though you were all outside, and the air was cooling off thanks to the setting sun and the fans on the overhang, it felt like it all had been sucked out. Nobody dared to move, or even blink as the two of you watched each other. 

“You left me Bradley.. You left then Maverick left. And not that it's anyone's business but I didn't not jump into bed with Beau-” Mavericks voice cut you off as he sighed and wiped a hand down his face “God it's weird to hear you call him that..” Anger was starting to roll under your skin as you looked at the two men who had clearly built an unspoken alliance to try and make you feel bad. The shitty thing was, it was working. These two men had broken you into tiny pieces when they left. Made you feel small, and unworthy as the dust settled. So no matter how angry you felt right now, pieces of that broken girl were starting to shine threw. 

“I call him by his name outside of work, because we are married.. And no.. Maverick didn't pull my papers because until the start of this mission he didn't even know I was in the Navy.. Ice knew, but I've always been second to you Bradshaw.. They weren't worried about me anymore because I suddenly had no attachments to you.” Bradley scoffed again, not believing at all that Mav didn't know. Maverick was offended and spoke again. “You're telling me Ice knew? Do you really think I wouldn't have been there for you had I known?” 

It was your turn to scoff, even if there were tears streaming down your face. “Ice knew I was an aviator, Slider was one of my Top Gun teachers the first time I was here. And yeah Maverick.. As a matter of fact, I know you wouldn't be there. Ice said you never once asked him to look for me after you guys up and left. So you don't know that I stood at my tap out ceremony and cried when one of my classmates' moms tapped me out. You don't know that I pushed BEAU away for almost a year because I thought I was unlovable because my dad left me. Who wants a girl who isnt even loved by her father?!” 

You were full on crying by this point, Hondo had leaned forward again and grabbed one of your hands. He had always had mad respect for your dad, but at this moment he was so angry at him. “I had to walk myself down the aisle. I've had to explain time and time again that ‘yes i'm the daughter of Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. No we are not the same. And No I can't tell him you said hi.. He hasn't spoken to me in almost 20 years.’ I got myself into flight school. For your information, Bradley, I didn't meet Beau officially until I was 26, YOU left ME when I was 17. So I waited almost ten years, sorry that wasn't good enough for you but what did you expect? Did you think that I would just be sitting around waiting to see if one day you would want me again?” 

Bradley was getting angry again, his mouth was saying things before his brain was even processing them. “Well I sure as hell didn't think I'd come back to find you married with kids.. I can't believe you sold yourself out to someone like him. Was it really the daddy issues like Hangman said? Pathetic.” The last word was whispered but everyone heard it. Phoenix aimed a kick at Bradleys knee that had him grunting in pain but not backing down. “What happened to ‘Forever and Always’, I know its from that stupid show you loved growing up but I thought we were end game. But no, you're just like your dad, lying to me and leaving.” Over Bradleys angry voice, nobody heard the front door shut, or the clicking of Beaus' shoes as he carried pizzas towards the deck.

You were so blown away by everything he said that you couldn't even respond, unfortunately that gave Maverick time to speak. “Past everything Bradley said, I can't believe you never reached out to me. You clearly had contact with Tom, you never asked him to ask me to call.. Never thought ‘maybe my dad will want to know I'm marrying someone who hates him?’ Never wondered if I would want to walk you down the aisle? Jesus.. You kept my granddaughter away from me!” 

You jumped slightly when he slammed his beer bottle down on the table. The rest of the group was glaring at the two men as tears continued to stream down your cheeks. You didn't know what to say, your dad was angry with you and you couldn't find the part of you who didn't care. The part that spent years telling yourself that you deserved to be happy. To move on from waiting for them to come back, that if they don't care neither do you. Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, boxes of pizza were unceremoniously dropped onto the table startling everyone again. 

No one around the table had heard Beau come in, but they could tell by the look on his face as he watched Maverick that he had heard everything. He turned and held his hand out to you, watching as you silently got up and grabbed it. Following him into the billiards room before he pulled the door shut behind him. Hondo rounded on Maverick as the rest watched Beau speak to you through the glass door. “Pete, I have always stood behind you but you are being an ass. This is 100% your fault. I didn't even know you had a kid before I met her! And I've known you her whole life! Get it together before I lose all respect for you!” 

 Hondos' rant was cut off by the door opening and closing again. Every single one of them swore they could feel a shift in the air, like all the air around them was suddenly circling. Cyclone was giving off the energy that earned him his name, but he promised himself he would try to contain the storm. Minimize the destruction, for his wife if nothing else. He wanted to see you happy again, like you were on the beach earlier. He knew how hard it was for you to hold back from those your own age. He also knew you did it as a way to protect yourself and your marriage. 

If no one got close to you, they couldn't use your husband's position against you. They couldn't use it for their own advancement, they couldn't hold it over your head or push for you to talk to him. You had made comments about how you also didn't want any young officers to find any reason to try and flirt with you. You didn't want to give off the wrong impression and hurt Beau, knowing that he was always worried about the age difference. It never occurred to you that your husband was more than confident in your marriage. Never once in the years since you had Emery had he ever worried about you leaving. 

Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson was a very confident man, not in the way Jake is, but in his own way. He's the type of man to buy you flowers because he saw them on his way home and thought they were pretty. He planned not only date nights with you, but daddy daughter dates because he always wanted Em to know how she should be treated. Cyclone is a firm believer in his children learning from the best, and when it came to being a man, and being a husband he was the best. Emery would never get a better mother or woman to learn from than you, and he strived every day to be your equal. Even if he would never believe that he was. 

“I sent Y/n to grab some towels and a case of extra swimsuits, I'm sure there's something that would fit you all.. After you eat your welcome to the pool or hot tub if you would like to stay.” Beau tapped his fingers on the table as he stood, looking around at the men and women at his table. His voice was hard as steel and cold as he spoke again, “But let me make this abundantly clear. This is MY home, mine and MY wifes. We have owned this home since before it was built, we brought our daughter home from the hospital to here.. And I will not in anyways tolerate you or anyone disrespecting her, not anywhere but especially not here. This place is meant to be her safe haven and I will throw you out on your ass before I let you even chip away at any of that safety.” 

Jake and Phoenix swore the hairs on their arms rose as he spoke. When he was done everyone but Bradley and Maverick nodded. “The two of you have done nothing but disrespect my wife time and time again. From before I even knew her, now unfortunately I can't go back and fix that, but I can't stop it from happening anymore. SO let's settle a few things, First and foremost” Beau held up one finger, resisting the urge to shove it into Rooster's eye as he spoke. “You, Lieutenant Bradshaw will talk to and treat my wife like she is one of your commanding officers, because she is. No amount of personal knowledge of someone, or time frame of friendship overrides that in the Navy. And son.. If you keep acting like you being her first love means you have some type of claim or hold over her, I will have you packing your bags and flying for American Airlines so fast it will make your head spin.” 

Everyone's eyes widened, this was an even newer side to Beau, one that he had never really needed to show. Phoenix, Hondo, and Javy were impressed. Jake and Bob were about to piss their pants. “You may have been her first love, Son.. But I intend to be her last.. And yes that's from said stupid TV show you were talking about earlier. It's called ‘The Vampire Diaries’ and ‘The Originals’. You may hold all her firsts, but I hold her bests, and her lasts, so I suggest you get over it quickly because I AM her FIRST and ONLY husband. The FIRST and ONLY father of her children, so it would be in your best interest to wrap that thick skull around that knowledge.” Bradley stared down at the table, his anger was still present but he could feel himself cooling off.. He just wanted to leave, try to sort all this out in his head before he talked to you again. 

Beau could see the gears turning in Bradleys head and decided he had given him enough. Now he turned to the only man he could truly say he hated. “You Maverick. Have been dangerous and irresponsible from the day you joined the Navy. Not only in how you fly but in the lifestyle you live. I can completely understand going out of your way to help raise your passed wingman's son. It was commendable that you tried to help him, even if you failed. However it is not commendable that you left your own child behind, what would the Bradshaws say if they knew that you haven't spoken to your daughter in 20 years? That you didn't know she was someone's wife? Someone's mother?”

Maverick didn't want to think about that, he tried not to as he kept listening. “You left and shattered a 17 year old girl, left her to fend for herself. To grow up herself. You didn't even know she joined the Navy but you knew Bradley did. You didn't even know where she was living.. IF she was living. You are the worst kind of parent and every single day Y/n proves that she is better than you in EVERY single way. From how she teaches at Top Gun, to how she raises our daughter. You can not like me all you want but you will respect my wife, your daughter or I will have you dishonorably discharged faster than your boyfriend can read. It will be done and signed before Iceman even has a chance to protest, do not play with me.” 

The two of them stare each other down, it was clear that Cyclone was not going to back down. “You can either grow up.. And try to be in your granddaughter's life or you can leave now. But if you leave right now the door will not open again.. With that being said, you are all welcome to stay or leave. At the moment I don't really care, I'm going to check on my wife and when I get back those who want to leave should probably be gone.”

~

~

Who do think will stay and who will go?

~

What do you want to happen next?

~

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[stcverogers]

TOP GUN FIC RECS 6!

top gun fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over recently

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN

F + A: jake seresin and the unfortunate hat situation by @sehnsuchts-trunken it's your first time in texas and you don't understand what the big fuss about hats is about.

F: never grow up by @andorskenobi you've fallen ill and the seresin boys play doctor.

F + A: signed away by @seresinhangmanjake at 19 years old, the last thing you want is to marry someone you don't love. however, a contract is a contract and you must see it through.

F: 7 years by @flaming-tgmcu jake's known you since he was 7 and he's loved you ever since.

F + S: birds away by @wombtotombx 𖥻 everyone who knew you and jake growing up were convinced that you'd end up together. you were perfect for one another. yet life and the navy had other plans.

F: tiktok troubles by @ultralightpoe jake misses date night and to get back at him, you pull tiktok pranks when he least suspects it.

F: sweet as candy by @halsteadsbradshaw with a callsign like haribo, it's no wonder you have a sweet tooth. jake knows this and this is the 4 times he brings you candy.

F + A: you again by @ereardon you're back in jake's life and he's determined not to let you go again.

F + A: bad habit by @seasonsbloom 𖥻 hangman was cocky. a complete asshole. you hated him, that was for sure.

F + A: glue song + part 2 + part 3 by @waklman the coffee you make isn't why jake is friends with you, though it is a good plus.

A: move on by @starlightstories jake left you hurt years ago and you've long moved on. it was time that he did too.

F + A: rule number one + rule number two by @ultralightpoe when you first met jake, he made the rule to not fall in love with him. you break it and he breaks you heart in the process.

F + A: nothing else matters by @sunnysidevans despite not being her biological father, jake had helped you raise evelyn ever since you found out you were pregnant with her.

F: dad jake blurb by @stargazing15

F + A: left at the alter by @tip-top-cloud-surfer 𖥻 you get left at the alter by your jerk of a fiance. luckily, jake is there for you, just like when you were younger.

F: the beanery by @callsign-peach when jake keeps coming into work with fancy thermos coffee every morning, his colleagues get jealous and want in on the nice roast too.

F + A: tell them by @sarahsmi13s 𖥻 jake's nearly loses his eldest son to a car accident and decides it is finally time to share his family with his work one.

F + A: i had to let go of you just to get a hold of myself by @gennyanydots 𖥻 jake thought that leaving everything behind would make it easier. instead he feels alone, his life consisting of nothing but his job that consumes him.

F: a little bit easier by @sunlitsunflowers jake is there to comfort you when you start to feel overwhelmed at the hard deck

F: marry that girl by @books-are-escapes jake always knew that you were the one he would marry and he finally made it happen

BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

F: baby, i'm yours by @almightyellie you're completely blind to bradley's very obious affections for you.

F: to the moon and back by @katsu28 a very special valentine's day for you and bradley

F + A: i will always love you by @amysteryspot with his parents gone and the closest thing he knew to love away, bradley wasn't expecting anyone to tap him out.

F + A: fawn by @sappy-seresin you've garnered rooster's interest working at the hard deck. your skittish behaviour leaves him worried and curious.

F: wedding day by @tip-top-cloud-surfer it's bradley's wedding day and he's brought to tears from seeing his bride

S: (christmas) baby please come home by @gretagerwigsmuse if bradley broke your agreement of only one gift each, surely he wouldn't mind if you broke it too.

F + S: the keeper + part 2 by @tulipsbymybed rooster is infatuated with the owner of the local bookshop.

F + A: homemade dynamite by @mothdruid you and rooster hadn't ended on good terms, now, you're both back at top gun.

F + A: endings and beginnings + part 2 by @tip-top-cloud-surfer rooster finally gets his chance at a family

F: just roommates by @risriswrites you and bradley were roommates, that's all.

F + A: terms of endearment by @ohtobeleah 𖥻 jake seresin was an instigator. as your brother-figure in life, he just wants you to be happy. this includes pushing you and rooster together.

F + A: something special by @helloheyhihowdyheya rooster cares for you more than he lets on, he just has a terrible way of showing it

F + A: what a look on you by @thewulf you secretly harbour feelings for bradley. when a friend from college comes visit and rooster seems far more enamored by her than you, you're hurt.

F: 5 times the Bronco was a third wheel by @thesewordsareallihavetogive there isn't many things bradley loves more than his bronco. you, maybe, but that's about it.

F + S: what's in a name? by @sometimesanalice bradley's favourite thing about you was the way you said his name

F + A: superstar + part 2 by @maggiedanikka bradley bradshaw was the poster boy for the americna navy. he was everything you weren't. why would he ever fall for the likes of someone like you?

F: daddy's little princess by @startrekfangirl2233-writes you come home to bradley playing dinosaurs and barbies with your two children

F: milk and toast and honey by @amysteryspot despite your bad experience with naval aviators, you have an affinity for one bradley bradshaw

F: romeo, romeo by @welcome-to-my-multiverse rooster is completely enamored by you and the dagger squad definitely shouldn't have left a drunk him alone with you.

ROBERT 'BOB' FLOYD

F: losing something and the other picks it up and calls after them by @callsignsaturn

F: afternoon bedrest by @jungle-angel bob returns home with an upset stomach. lucky for him, you're there to comfort him

F: he's all that by @withahappyrefrain bob's too nervous to approach the cute girl at the hard deck. his team mates decide that a makeover is just the confidence boost he needs

F: rodeo by @sarahsmi13s though you could perfectly hold your own, bob would always stand up for you.

F: surprise by @topgun-imagines bob proposed to his girl and no one the dagger squad had known

F: blind date gone...wrong? by @intricatechaosofyou you get stood up on a blind date. thankfully, bob is there to save you the embarrassment.

F: wanna buy you a drink by @anonymooseforever007 you surprise bob at the hard deck, but not without a little teasing first.

S: untouchable + part 2 by @idkwhylou as the only daughter of the captain, you were placed on a pedestal, deemed untouchable. bob was the only exception.

TOM 'ICEMAN' KAZANSKY

F: little reward by @dragon-kazansky to entice tom away from his computer, you promise him hugs and strawberries

BEAU 'CYCLONE' SIMPSON

F: super trouper + part 2 by @callsignmayhem you're sick and beau is ready to help you feel better, with the help of soup and mamma mia.

[topguncortez]

Under the Desk- B.Simpson

pairing: Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x female!reader warnings: SMUT! dom/sub dynamic, mention of age gap, blowjob, cock warming, public sex (kinda) word count: 1.2k

A/N: this is my first Cyclone drabble so be nice. also thank you @wildbornsiren for awakening something within me that I didn't know needed to be awakened.

“Come in!” Cyclone called out as he heard a knock on his office door. His eyes were starting to strain from looking at black and white documents all morning. Maverick had yet another crazy training plan that he wanted to work on and Cyclone was waiting for the day he could ship Maverick off to another Naval Base. 

“Hey,” You spoke softly, as you opened the door. Cyclone’s green eyes looked up from his computer and he smiled, leaning back in his desk chair. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Beau said in relief, happy to see you. He was always happy to see you, you were the bright spot in his ever boring life. He didn’t think at 50, divorced and basically married to his job, he’d find someone who was willing to love him for him. He could be gruff, and mean, and cold, it came with the price of holding such an important title. But there was something about you that helped melt his icy exterior. Maybe it was your young age, maybe it was your innocence, maybe it was your knack for getting yourself into some trouble, but it kept Beau on his toes. 

“You didn’t answer my call about meeting for lunch, so I thought I should stop by and see what you were doing,” You said, and walked over to his side of the desk, sitting down on his lap. He immediately circled an arm around your waist like it was second nature to him. 

“Been busy dealing with this shit,” He grumbled, waving his free hand at the pile of papers on his desk, “Turned my phone off, I’m sorry, baby.” 

“It’s okay, daddy.” 

Beau’s beautiful eyes seemed to turn a shade darker as that word slipped past your lips. His hand found its place in between your thighs, gently resting on the skin. He could feel the heat radiating off of your cunt and you leaned down, pressing a kiss to that spot below his ear. 

“You’re stressed,” You whispered in his ear, putting an arm around his shoulders, fingers gently playing with the small hairs at the base of his neck, “It’s not good for you.” 

“Neither are you, but here we are,” Beau said, smirking up at you. 

“You like having me around, I keep you young,” You smiled, and slid off his lap to stand up between his legs. His rough hands slowly trailed down the sides of your waist, and to your legs. The dress you wore stopped about mid thigh, giving Beau the perfect sight of your beautiful legs. 

“That you do, sweetheart.” 

“Let me take care of you, daddy,” You said, and leaned down to kiss him. Beau knew exactly what you were doing, so he pushed his chair back a bit, so you could angle your body to be hidden by his desk. You sunk down to your knees and could already see his cock straining against his khaki dress pants. You palmed him through his pants and he groaned. 

“Don’t fucking tease me, girl,” He said, his voice dropping into a gravelly octave, one that sent shockwaves straight to your dripping core, “You’re here for one fucking purpose, and that’s to suck me off and go home. Got it?” 

“Yes sir,” You said in response, your hands going to his belt. He lifted his hips enough that you could slide down his pants and black boxers, watching as his aching cock sprung free and slapped against his stomach. He groaned at the feeling of the cold air hitting the angry red tip that was already leaking pre-cum. 

“I hardly did anything and look at you,” You spoke up in pure wonder at the man in front of you. 

“Stop fucking talking,” Beau growled, and grabbed your hair, pushing you towards his cock. 

You wasted no time, taking Beau’s hard cock into your mouth, licking the pre-cum off the top of it. You had been with him long enough to know how he liked his blowjobs, messy and sloppy. You pulled off him enough, and spit directly on his cock, using your hand to smear the mixture of your spit and pre-cum down his length. 

Beau was enthralled by you, he pulled your hair out of your face, and watched as you took what you could of him into your mouth, gagging as he hit the back of your throat. He loved when you gagged on him, he loved hearing the sounds you would make when you sucked him off. It had taken you some time, but he had basically trained your throat to take him as deep as you possibly can. 

“Such a good fucking girl,” Beau groaned out as you bobbed your head up and down. Beau kept his hand on your head, directing your movements, pushing you down a little farther each time. 

He jumped slightly when there was a knock on his office door. He could see through the translucent glass that there was someone outside his door, and he rolled his eyes knowing it was Maverick from the short stature. He looked down at you, you looked up at him through your lashes, and pulled off of him. 

“Get under the desk,” Beau directed, and you smirked, shuffling under the surprisingly roomy desk. His cock was still out and hard as he pushed his lower half under the desk, “Come on.” 

“Sir,” Maverick said, walking in. 

You drowned out the conversation between Maverick and your boyfriend, your eyes locked on the sight of his cock. You smirked to yourself, shuffling around a bit, and wrapping your hand around his cock. Beau jumped a bit and covered up his movement with a cough, which spurred you on even more. You weren’t sure what caused it, but you moved your head into his lap, and placed your mouth back on his cock. Beau felt the feeling of pleasure roll through his body as you started to move your head, but was quickly stopped by him putting a strong, firm hand on the back of your head. 

You weren’t sure how long you were in that position, Beau’s hand on the back of your head, your mouth open and stuffed with his hard cock, drool falling from your mouth and pooling on his lap. Your jaw was starting to ache and so were your knees. But even besides that, it was the best feeling ever, being able to keep him warm as he yelled at Maverick for something stupid. You had to clench your thighs shut as you felt him twitch in your mouth. The second Maverick’s footsteps started fading and the door shut, Beau was pulling you off of him, and out from underneath the desk. 

“Jesus he can sure-” 

“Shut up,” Beau growled, turning you around and bending you over his desk. You gasped at his roughness as he grabbed the bottom of your dress, pulling it up enough to expose your naked backside, “Of course,” Beau mumbled, “Where are your panties?” 

“Forgot them,” You said innocently. 

“You’re telling me, you woke up, took a shower, did your hair and makeup, picked out this dress, put it on, and forgot to put underwear on?” 

You looked over his shoulder and smiled, “I’m forgetful” 

“Yeah well you’re gonna be a whole nother level of forgetful when I’m done with you.”

--- --- ---

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[zablife]

Valentine's Day with Cyclone

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tag list:

@floraroselaughter

@rikki-b-lake

@alanadetigy

@writeroutoftime

@callsign-fangirl

@justalonelyslytherin

@lovemissyhoneybee

@wandawiccan60

@l1-l4

@luckyladycreator2

@kmhappybunny240

@shanimallina87

@hey-its-kayla-claire

@can-this-be-a-fanfic

@amysteryspot

@dreamlandcreations 

@barbiegirlbaby

@cycbaby

@paola-carter

[ohthatstragic]

You Made It - b.s

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

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

pairings: young!cyclone x reader

warnings: fluffy hehe :3

wc: 1,802

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" You blinked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N!"

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

my masterlist

how to request something

[sebsxphia]

horny thot hours

but imagine sending sugar daddy beau videos of the new expensive jewellery he bought you

but like - just the jewellery. you cannot tell me this man would not go absolutely wild for that

CHRIST

he would be so feral for the videos. like screaming bloody murder in his office, letting out a huge groan and palming himself through his trousers. he replies back, “fucking hell princess. was it your goal to be a naught brat today? xx”

you reply by sending back another video of the charm bracelet he got you dangling just above your clit as you slide your fingers through your folds.

“i just wanted to show you how grateful i was for your gifts daddy. i love them so much 🥺 xx”

“i can tell. your pretty cunt is soaked. keep it that way when i get home and i’ll buy you another bracelet my sweet angel. daddy will be home soon xx”

jnfkjsdfnk fuck me thank you so much for this thot dear anon!! 💌

[rick-rayson]

Cyclone - SFW Alphabet

A/N: POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR THE BLACK ADAM FILM, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! (Probably OOC, apologies in advance!)

(credit for the SFW prompt goes to Jschqtt right here on Tumblr!)

Maxine Hunkel:

A: Affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show they care?)

Maxine gives a more words of affirmation and acts of service kind of approach to affection than anything else. She's not the most physically affectionate person in the world but she shows that she cares by doing things for you.

You need some snacks? She packed an extra bag of food for you. Want some more? Stay where you are, she'll get you some takeout.

She also likes to tease you with her powers, just a slight swish of air passing you, or maybe a pencil floating up to you. She finds your reactions so cute.

B: Beauty (what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?)

Max greatly respects your opinions and what you have to say, so when she works on a project or is thinking about what else she could contribute to the Justice Society you are one of the first people she goes to for another outlook. She admires observance in a person, and swoons over confident people.

She'd also love it if you're partial to science or art!

C: Cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

She loves cuddling at the end of the day. No talking only love and warmth. She'd like to lightly drape an arm over you but wouldn't like to be smothered, she doesn't like heating up too much.

D: Domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they with cooking and cleaning?)

For Max, settling down is the last thing she wants to do currently. She happily embraces the life she has with the Justice Society. I'd say she's a good cook, she's more partial to comfort food over anything.

Cleaning is.. contained. Sometimes books stack up, sometimes papers are misplaced, she at least tries to contain her messes.

E: Ending (if they had to break up with their s/o, how would they do it?)

She'd likely plan what to say beforehand but then choke AS she's telling her partner, the last thing she wants to do is hurt them any more than breaking up with them will hurt them.

F: Fiancé (how do they feel about commitment? how fast do they want to get married?)

She's not opposed to marriage but isn't in any rush for it, she's still following her childhood dreams after all.

G: Gentle (how gentle are they? physically and emotionally)

She is so physically gentle it's adorable, on more occasions than one, you'll find her pondering whether it's okay to hold your hand or kiss your cheek. The way her hands cup your face and the pads of her thumb trace your cheeks, she is hooked on being gentle.

She's a pretty chill person but maybe not so gentle when it comes to emotions, she's not a monster or anything but sometimes she might be a bit slow on registering the fact she should be more sensitive.

H: Hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it, and what are they like?)

She likes casual hugging, she gives lazy hugs by draping an arm around you. Her touches are light and when she hugs you, you just feel so much lighter.

I: I love you (how fast would they say ‘i love you’?)

Maxine would take a while to say the three words, she could wait out an entire year and then some. But here's the thing, several months of dating she'd occasionally say "Love you." But never the three words whole, and it's purposeful on her part, she's too afraid to say she loves you at first and over thinks the situation.

So her grand plan was to simply say it... And then run away.

"Oh hey I'm gonna go get our food byeIloveyouseeyouinasec-"

J: Jealousy (how jealous do they get? how do they act when they’re jealous?)

She's not usually jealous, it's quite rare because frankly she's way too busy. But on the occasion that she is jealous, that jealousy manifests into self doubt. She thinks things like "maybe I should do better."

You'll notice she's a bit more clingy, her fingers hooked under your shirt.

K: Kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they kiss their s/o, and where do they like to be kissed?)

Despite her featherlight hugs and small cuddles, Max does not mess around with kisses. She wants to steal your breath away and bring back the air in your lungs. Her lips will press against yours rather passionately, a confidence you don't usually get to see.

L: Little ones (how are they around kids? do they want kids?)

Max is really good with kids! She's kind, friendly, and always ready to show off if they want to see her manipulate air. Just don't leave her alone with them, because then she panics and gets a bit awkward, you give her the strength to socialize sometimes.

M: Mornings (how are mornings spent with them?)

Unless you're vehemently against it, she'll set alarms for each task she needs to do in the early morning, and to her credit she keeps up with it rather well, down to maintaining her skincare routine. She also likes going on a jog or biking in the mornings, if that's not your thing though she won't be pressed.

She'll gladly make breakfast for you or if you need a quick pick me up.

Mornings with Max are spent living under sunbeams and faintly listening to the sounds of singing birds mixed with her light singing.

N: Nights (how are nights spent with them?)

She's a bit clingy during the night, she won't latch onto you but you'll notice she'll try to do every one of her nightly tasks in your proximity. If you're sitting on the couch she'll sit next to you whilst brushing her teeth before hopping back over to the bathroom to finish.

She'll tell you goodnight but then go on her phone or computer until you have to tug her back to bed.

O: Open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Max is pretty reserved at first, it would honestly take her a bit to tell you personal things. With someone like Max she'll tell you certain stuff about herself that seems deeply personal but actually doesn't affect her anymore at all. She'll tell you those first because she doesn't care as much.

But if you want to get to know her more then you'll need some patience.

P: Patience (how easily do they get angry?)

Speaking of patience, Max has a lot of it. Or at least she thinks so. Sometimes the things people say can set her off a little, and annoy her. She dislikes when people don't think before they speak, or are just downright horrible.

Q: Quizzes (how much do they remember about their s/o? do they remember every detail, or do they forget everything?)

If Max can't simply remember something about you (which is pretty uncommon) she'll write it down somewhere for her to remember, if she has to have a thousand post it notes on her computer then so be it. However her memory is impeccable, she'll remember stuff about you that you might not even remember.

R: Romantic (how romantic are they? do they go all out for dates, or do they prefer staying home?)

The reason she is so dead set on remembering things about you is because she wants to implement her knowledge of you into the dates she takes you on. I don't think she realizes how romantic she is because well.. why wouldn't she go all out for you? She is the type to prefer staying home for dates or doing something that includes both of your interests.

S: Security (how protective are they? how would they protect their s/o?)

She's pretty protective and maybe even a little doting. She looks out for you if you won't look out for yourself. And if you're in any kind of trouble you can trust that Max will help you every step of the way. She's a natural protector.

T: Try (how much effort would they put in? like dates and gifts?)

Max's effort shines most with dates and especially gifts. She remembers every little detail about you, and your interests. You'll always get a meaningful gift from her.

U: Ugly (what are some bad habits of theirs?)

She's sometimes a bit negligent when it comes to her own physical needs. Please get this girl a glass of water and something to eat because she WILL forget if she's working. It's a genuine surprise how she doesn't pass out from exhaustion.

V: Vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

She's concerned because the last thing she wants is to look unhygienic. Max is also very expressive when it comes to her style and her looks and it's something she puts great effort into. It makes her feel good.

W: Whole (would they feel incomplete without their s/o?)

I think a part of her would lose her edge. But Max could probably move forward without her significant other, but only if she has to, were it her choice, they'd be with her every step of the way. She wouldn't feel incomplete but she'd be lying if she said she wouldn't be deeply saddened without her s/o.

X: Xtra (what’s a random hc for them?)

She collects funko pops of the Justice League and especially Hawkman.

Y: Yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, in general?)

I feel like she dislikes smoking.

[bo0tleg]

Decided to make one of these for Top Gun: Maverick too, you know... to dispel the pain I caused with my last post...

(this is my whatsapp history, not direct quotes from the movie)

(in the first one, I'm aware it looks like There's a 30 min gab between both messages. There is not, my internet just decided that they were going to let me see the message 30 min later)

[warnersister]

THE HIGHWAYMAN

Cowboy!Jake (Hangman) Seresin x Reader

• Series •

Summary: Jake Seresin: Highwayman. Riding along coach roads with his gang of the fellow Dagger Squad. But when his companion is in immediate need of a horse, they stop in a town Jake had avoided for the past 5 years. The place he’d left his beloved as a threat from her father, Sheriff Beau Simpson. But when he returns for good, Simpson isn’t having some highwayman get his way with his daughter. Not if he had anything to do with it.

Connotations to smut marked with *

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Return to Miramar

Chapter 2 - Damned if you do; Damned if you don’t

Chapter 3 - The Dead Man Walking

Chapter 4 - A glass of Bourbon from Denison

Chapter 5* - A night worth dying for*

Chapter 6 - A bargain with the executioner

Chapter 7 - Listen to her gut

Chapter 8 - Unfinished business with a pistol

Chapter 9 - Please, not another 5 years

Chapter 10 - Gifts from Sacramento

Chapter 11 - May God have Mercy

Chapter 12 - A hanging in the Spring of ‘63

Chapter 13 - The girl with no father

Chapter 14 - You’re needed East

Chapter 15 - An apology is a blessing

Chapter 16* - A final goodbye and a first hello*

Epilogue

Fin.

[bullet-prooflove]

Disengage: Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x Reader

Tagging: @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond  @chickensrule @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @justameresimp @lxaah11 @librarian1002 @littlebadariell @imaginecrushes @luckyladycreator2 @emersxn99  @flrboyd @nani-kenobi @areamir @@b-bradshaw @adaydreamaway08

Companion piece to Rumours

Beau is angry, no he is fucking livid. He can feel that rage pulse through his veins as he stalks into the bedroom and tears off the tie of his dress uniform and hurls it onto the bed. His jacket follows next, he strips it from his shoulders before tossing it onto the sheets. He doesn’t know where the fuck his hat is, he thinks he might have thrown it onto the kitchen table, but he has no memory of it because right now all he can focus on is the agony in his chest.

Christ, it feels like you’ve ripped his heart right out of his fucking rib cage.

You say nothing as you enter the room. You’re still clad in your JAG uniform, only you’ve kicked off your shoes, leaving them alongside the front door he suspects, the blazer probably on the back of one of the dining chairs. You stand in front of the mirror, removing the pins from your hair, each one clattering into the small dish as your hair falls loose around your shoulders.

“Why…” he chokes out the word as he looks at your reflection in the mirror. You look back at him and he knows that you’ve completely shut down. It’s an ode to your father. When a man shows his temper you disengage. The lesson was beaten into you from an early age. “Why did I have to find out from another officer that you're deploying next month?”

“I tried to tell you.” You say calmly as you pick up a cleansing pad and begin to remove your makeup. “But we’ve barely been in the same room over the last couple of days.”

Fuck, he’s forgot how cold you can be when you get like this, how concise, how rational. It makes him want to scream, to shout, to shake you but he doesn’t do any of that because even at his worst he would never lay hands on you.

“For something like this, we make the time.” He snaps before shaking his head because he knows he isn’t getting through to you. “I don’t understand, you’ve barely been back a few weeks and…”

He trails off because you’re not looking at him anymore, your gaze has dropped to bottle of toner at your dressing table, your fingers toying with the label. You’re completely out of reach to him and he can’t…

He just can’t…

“I’ll take the guest room tonight.” He says, his tone softening.

You don’t say a word as he closes the bedroom door behind him and honestly, he doesn’t expect you to.

***

It’s hours later that Beau hears the door to the guest bedroom click open. He can’t sleep, he just keeps reliving the moment that Vice Admiral Henderson tells him that you’re leaving as he shakes his hand and thanks him for his sacrifice.

He says nothing as you take up residence alongside of him, the mattress shifting to accommodate your weight. He keeps his back to you, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares at the closed ensuite door, hoping that you’re about to tell him that Henderson’s made a mistake. He can’t express how badly he wishes for that, how in those moments of silence he prays to a God he doesn’t believe in because right now he would do anything to strip away the anguish he feels.

“If I do this deployment.” You say into the darkness. “Henderson gives me the position in the Victim’s Legal Council when Phillips retires in six months.”

He knows what that means, you’ll be stationed here on base for at least two years. He closes his eyes because he understands what you’re doing, you’re creating a future for the two of you, one where you can exist in the same space.

Six months for two years, maybe longer…

It tastes so fucking bitter on his tongue because he’s only just got you back and now, you’re leaving all over again. He turns to face you, and you lay down beside him, your fingertips tracing over the curve of his cheek as he meets your gaze.

“I don’t want you to go.” He tells you.

“I know.” You whisper sadly, your lips brushing over his. “But I have to.”

He fucks you that night, in the guest bedroom. It’s raw and intense. There’s a wildness in him that won’t be sated as he tries to claw back some semblance of control. He’s reckless and passionate, keeping you pinned underneath him as he makes you come with his mouth, his fingers, his cock. It still isn’t enough because he’s chasing the intimacy of those six months, the moments he’s going to lose with you.

He leaves you ruined amongst the sheets, an apricot flush across your features before he gets up and heads to the en suite, locking the door behind him before turning on the shower.

This is the part he hates the most.

The disconnection.

Already he can feel himself withdrawing from you, from the marriage.

It happens every time that you’re deployed.

It’s normal the handbook tells him, a way of protecting yourself, a way of coping. He still can’t believe there’s a fucking manual for this.

He stays under the scalding hot stream for as long as he can, his palms coming to rest on the tile, his head hanging low as the water pounds onto his skull, drowning out his thoughts, his feelings and all of the other emotional shit because what he needs right now is that numbness.

It’s the only way he’s going to survive.

When he leaves the en-suite you aren’t in the bed. He doesn’t expect you to be.

You know as well as he does that right now, it’s easier to be apart than it is to be together.

Love Beau? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[multifan2022]

*Im feeling really iffy about this part but dont know what to or if I should change anything so let me know if you like it! If you dont let me know that too lol, Im all about honesty!*

Also I just want to say that I read for so many of you, and its beyond a fangirl moment to see a few of you comment of my post. Honestly like feet kicking fangirl moment to see people whose stuff I religiously read (I have a separate page to read on) comment on my work <3

PART 1 

MasterList

That night you could feel the tension in your shoulders growing every second that clicked down. You knew Beau would be upset about the stunt you pulled today. He already hated how you flew, but then to add the death spiral with your dad onto that.. You were sure to get an earful not only from the Admiral but from your husband. After thanking the babysitter, making dinner and watching a movie with Emery and putting her to bed, you're standing in the shower. The water is so hot you know you'll have heat rash when you get out but you don't care. You feel the need to burn the day away. 

The bathroom door opening and softly clicking shut doesn't shock you. You knew what time it was when you got in, ten minutes until he would pull in the driveway. Again the ever meticulous man, he arrived home exactly when he said he would. What does shock you is when you hear the soft rumple of him taking his clothes off before he steps into the shower behind you. He hisses slightly as he reaches around to turn the temperature down, before wrapping his arms around your waist. Beau rests his forehead against your damp hair but stays silent. 

One of his hands slides slowly up from your hip, over your breast to your throat and then grips your jaw. When he turns your face to his, he immediately presses his lips to yours. It's soft and reassuring, it's exactly what you need and it makes you love him even more that you don't have to ask or tell him what you need he just knows. It lasts long minutes, the two of you just standing under the infinity spray and kissing lovingly. When you pull away, you turn around and show your appreciation for him by washing his hair and body. Beau is an acts of service kind of lover, as someone who is always doing for others he loves it when you do little things for him. 

Every meal that you cook is the best thing he's ever eaten. When his laundry is done and put away before he has a chance to do it, he considers it the third best day of his life. Any time you do anything for him, he acts like you've just handed him the most prized treasure. For you it's easy to take care of him, there's so much he does for you on a daily basis . It's second nature to come home, or spend your day off doing things like that. Its one of the things that makes your relationship work out so well. 

You were a slightly harder beast to contain. Your love language was a mixture of Physical touch, which Beau has never complained about. Words of affirmation and quality time, which given your father leaving you constantly, made sense. Beau never struggled to give you his words, he would constantly tell you how much he loved and adored you. How he couldn't picture his life without you. How you were the greatest gift life could ever have given him and how he could never be grateful enough. Time though, with his job and yours was something harder. It was a delicate balance that in the beginning you both struggled to learn. But it was something that once you got down, was down.  

Once out of the shower, Beau quickly dressed before kissing your temple and leaving the room. You didn't have to wonder where he was going, he had the same routine every night. He would walk the house, checking that every window was locked, the front and back doors were fully closed and deadbolted before he set the alarm. Then he would grab two bottles of water from the kitchen, check that your daughter was still covered and sleeping before making his way back to your shared room. 

When he entered you were sitting criss cross one the bed dressed in a shirt that was almost as old as you were. He loved when you wore his clothes but would never understand why you insisted on sleeping in shirts that were so old they should've been threadbare. He approached slowly. Grabbing your hair brush from the nightstand and telling you with a hand gesture to turn around. Once your back was facing him, he stayed standing while drying and brushing your hair. When he was done, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before putting the towels on the hook and leaving your hair brush on your dresser. 

In bed he watched silently still as you ran your fingers up and down his torso. He knew you needed to talk, that you would when you were ready, he just needed to be patient and wait. It really wasn't something he was good at, but he did his best. His efforts paid off though when you sighed and turned on your back, refusing to look at him as you spoke. “I'll never be good enough for him.. I took every single one of them down today, himself included, and when we landed the first person he went after was Bradley… I guess I was mean to him though..” 

Beau propped himself up on his elbow so he could see your face better. He adored the way you got this little V between your eyebrows when you were thinking. But he hated the way you were doubting yourself over this man again. He had worked so hard to help you build yourself back up, he wasn't going to let Maverick tear you down again. “Sweetheart, you are allowed to be mean to him.. He left you so many times. Not only growing up but then he left for good when you were still really young. His constant need to take care of Bradshaw instead of you doesn't make any sense. I understand wanting to be there for the kid because of Goose. But he never should've left his own child behind. You're 38, he left when you were seventeen. I met you at 26, we got married a year later, got pregnant with our daughter a year later and have now been together for 12 years and have a beautiful 9 year old. He knows none of that. He deserves your anger, baby.”

Turning on your side you looked up at the man who had given you the entire world. Who continued every day to give you everything he could. Beau smiled sadly, raising one hand to brush some hair away from your face as he looked at you. “I promise if you were anywhere out of line, I would tell you. But him expecting you to just put all that pain and betrayal behind you because he's here now, especially when it's not like he's here for you, is unacceptable.” Leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, he felt more than heard you sigh. “I want you to try to remember though, you're not that little girl anymore. You're a Captain in the United States Navy, a wonderful and devoted mother. The most amazing wife any man could ever ask for. You've come so far.. And all without him. Don't let him tear you down again Baby.” 

Beau hated the tears that started to fill your lash line, the way you chewed on your bottom lip as you tried to hide what you were really feeling. He gently used his thumb to pull it from between your teeth before he attached his own. He tried desperately to put every ounce of his love and faith in that one kiss. He felt pretty accomplished at it when you pulled away with a small dazed smile and rolled over. Blindly you reached back and felt for his arm. Chuckling he moved to place his wrist in your hand, allowing you to pull him closer to you. There was no doubt that he would have moved himself, but he allowed you the choice sometimes. With one arm under your pillow bent to thread his fingers through your hair, and one around your waist he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before falling into a deep sleep.

~~~~~

Mornings and you did not get along. Unlike your childhood best friend, when the sun came up you were not enthused. This was something you had in common with your husband but he managed it far better than you. This was proven every single morning when he rose far before you. He dedicated his mornings to his daughter. If he was home, he was the one to wake her up, help her through her morning routine and make breakfast. So it was no shock when you rolled out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, that you could smell coffee. 

Your daughter's light giggles warmed your heart in a way that nothing else ever could. Beau shushed her while chuckling himself, “Mommys still sleeping sweetheart, gotta be quiet. No waking momma bear.” That made you smile, momma bear was what they started to call you because you always grumbled in the morning. Leaning in the kitchen doorway you had to bite your lip to keep from combusting when you found Beau in a tight shirt and sweats. Your daughter on his hip, her head rested on his shoulder as he made breakfast. It didn't matter that she was 9, almost 10, he swore he would hold her like that until she told him to stop. The man even joked about going to the gym more if it meant he could. 

“Daddy?” Emery said softly, still half asleep, “Do you love momma like I do?” Beau chuckled, turning to kiss his daughter's soft hair before answering. “The way I love your mother is different. One day when you're older you'll understand that there are different types of love. But yes, I love your mom so, so, so much. Probably more than anyone in this whole world. Just like I love you more than anyone else, but shh dont tell your mom I said that.” Readjusting his hold on her, he hands her the spatula and leans down a bit. “Now flip this french toast so we can go wake momma bear up.” 

You bit the tip of your thumb, knowing that without even trying this man put every little broken piece of you back into place. Both of their faces lit up when they turned to see you in the doorway, Emery wiggling to get out of her fathers arms and run towards you with a happy squeal. Lifting her easily (Thanks on base gym) you kissed her cheek noisily before padding over and kissing Beau. By the blush on your cheeks and the slightly too heated (for in front of your 9 year old)  kiss, he knows you heard what he said. When you pull back he lays his forehead against yours, both of you laughing when Em reaches up and presses her head up to both of yours too. 

This family, these two people, they are your entire life. 

~~~

The base is up to its normal hustle when you arrive later that morning, having dropped Em off at school before coming to work. That's almost as shocking as you having two bags in your hand as you made your way towards the Vice Admirals office. You knew he did this on purpose. It was a way for him to get you into his office without having to track you down or call you. Normally it wouldn't matter, but with so many people who knew you he felt like he needed to be more careful than normal. 

Warlock smiled and nodded in greeting as he left Cyclones office, pushing the door open for you as you walked in. Beaus' face was annoyed until he looked up and noticed you. “Is there a problem, Captain?” Beau said teasingly as you walked towards him.  “You forgot your lunch” You said, setting it down and crossing your arms. Your amused smile and eyebrow lift told him that you didn't really believe he had forgotten it. He pushed his chair back and patted the desk, signaling for you to come stand in front of him. When he scooted forward with his legs spread and rested his forehead against your stomach with a sigh you gently ran your hand through his hair. “I think we should publicly tell people after this mission, I'm tired of sneaking around on base.. Especially with Maverick and Rooster here.. The way that boy looks at you..” Beaus voice trails off with a huff. 

He felt your body sag slightly, as relief flooded your veins. You understood the need to keep everything under wraps, and had never minded keeping your relationship close to the chest. But damn if it wouldn't be nice to be able to drive one car to work. To not have to play the word game every time someone asks you about your home life. You could invite people over, make some friends that lasted outside of base. Just as fast as those thoughts came though so did others. Knowing that rumors of Nepotism already spread about you, and were about to become worse. 

That there would be people who would swear you moved through the ranks as quickly as you did because you were sleeping with Cyclone. You wouldn't be surprised if Ice had to step in and shut down an investigation. But at the end of the day, you would deal with anything that happened if you could just allow others to see how happy you were with the man in front of you. So you agreed, staying in the same position for a few minutes. 

Mavericks' voice outside the door caused you to tense, hearing him ask Warlock if Cyclone was in the office. The older man moved to stand in front of the door, even though the windows were frosted, he didn't want to take any chances that Mav would try to bust in without knocking. Beaus hands started to move their way up your thighs to the waistband of your khakis as Warlock told Maverick that it wasn't a good time and he would need to come back much later. The two continued to argue as you felt your husband start to pull your pants down. 

When you looked down there was a mischievous glint in his green eyes as he pressed kisses to every spot of skin that he slowly uncovered. When the hallway was once again quiet he stood pressing your chest down to the cool wood of his desk before moving from behind you. It was a test, one that had been performed many times. He would leave you there as he went to lock the door, you would either stay put and behave, or you would move, being a brat. It was his unspoken way of letting you decide how you wanted it. It gave you all the power in a silent exchange. 

You stayed still, knowing that what you really wanted and needed was reassurance that you could make it through what was sure to be a bullshit day. When he made his way back over to you, he leaned down and pressed his lips to your cheek as his hands pushed your shirt up slightly. His voice was low and husky as he worked to undo his own belt and pants. “I know you're nervous about today. About all those idiots you have to go and deal with.” Its always amazed you how fast you get wet for this man. The few experiences you had before he were all severely lacking, all it took from Cyclone was a look and you were drenched. 

Normally Beau would do some serious foreplay, but here, with you pressed against his desk there was no time. He was never sure if it was the power he had over you in his office, in this position or the fact that anyone could hear you that got him as hard as it did. But it was always amazing, slowly he pressed into you groaning quietly as he bottomed out. He wants to stay here, with his chest pressed against your back, bottomed out deep inside his beautiful wife. But when you rock your hips back and push him just a tiny bit deeper he remembers why he is doing this. 

“That's right, you need to remember who you are. You're not heartbroken or lost anymore, you're a badass Naval Aviator. You dominate the sky, and my heart. Your a fucking goddess walking amoungst men.” His words as he rocks slowly and deeply inside you cause you to clench around him hard. It pains him to pull out, but as soon as he does he's turned you around pressing your back to the desk instead. His hands wrapping your thighs around his hips before moving one to rest his forearm next to your head. His favorite thing to do is watch your face, while yours is to close your eyes and hear the sounds both of you make. 

Beau as a man was a visual creature. He wanted to see what he was doing to you. Watch as your eyes rolled back, as your mouth fell open, as your brows pulled together. He wanted to see the sweat that beaded and rolled down your skin. Whereas you got off harder if you could hear him. If you could hear the way his skin slapped against yours, the way the desk would make a groaning noise as the weight of your bodies pressed against it. When he would gasp or moan it was like the best porn ever. 

His movements were unhurried, even if they really should have been. He pushed back into you at a steady but slow pace, worshiping the time he got with you before he had to watch you walk away. When you couldn't take the slow pace anymore though you pushed at his shoulders until he pulled back. His bare ass hitting his chair only a second before you were in his lap. “Oh fuck, thats right, take what you want..” His words were slowly seeping in, replacing the nervousness and doubt. Reminding you that while you were Y/n Mitchell. You are now Captain Y/n ‘Valkyrie’ Mitchell-Simpson. You had no reason to be nervous or scared because fuck the rest of those guys. You were the best of the best. 

Slamming down onto your husband's cock he had to reach up and cover your mouth. Because while he was sure his best friend knew what was going on in here, he didn't need anyone to over hear it. Your hands found Beaus' hair pulling roughly as you bounced in his lap. One of his hands over your mouth the other digging into your hip, in a way that was sure to leave little bruises. He feels the whimper behind his hand as he meets your thrusts, unable to let you fully control the moment. It doesn't take long before you're clenching around him, he needs you to cum because he swears he's about too. 

“Cum on my cock baby.. Let your Admiral fill you up.. Fuck you know your gonna be leaking me all day now.. Maybe you'll get another little gift too.” Beau groans at his own thoughts. Ones that include you round again with his child, this time one that everyone knows is his. And Fucckk if that doesn't make him slam into you just a little harder. But all it takes is a few more of those harsh thrusts for you to all but scream behind his hand as you cum. The extra wetness that follows coating him and leaking down onto the chair beneath him. 

“Kiss me” He says as he forces himself to hold back, working you through your orgasm and into oversensitivity before he lets go. Your lips on his tongue forcing its way into his mouth is all it takes for him to meet his own end. Arms wrapping around your waist as he slams hard into your a few more times before holding your tightly against him. You just kiss lovingly, threw the afterglow of your shared orgasms, panting into each other's mouths not even trying to catch your breath. 

When he finally pulls away, he does what little he can to clean you up before pulling your pants back onto your legs. You watch him with a heart full of love and admiration as he tucks and relaces your boots, tucks your shirt in and straightens anything that's out of place. No one outside of this room would believe that Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson was someone who would redress his wife after having her in his office. No one would really believe that he had a wife, especially one so much younger than him. But that was one of the things you loved, only you and your daughter got the soft version of him. 

Standing he presses a quick kiss to your forehead before smacking you lightly on the ass. “Go out there and show them what you're made of Captain Simpson.” 

~

~

~

Taglist: 

@luckyladycreator2 @winterrebel04 @millieb-3199 @xoxabs88xox @archaeologydigit @topgunruinedme @lillyrosenight @blessednotluckyme @callsign-dragonbaron​ @scorpiomindfuck

[saltsicklover]

Title: Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Part 2 of 2 - Completed

Find Part 1 HERE, and my Master List HERE

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

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

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

A few uses of Y/N

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

Rating: R

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

---

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

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

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

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

Fuck flying coach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Be nice, would you?"

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

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

"I'll see what I can do,"

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Everything's fine, promise,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Brad-"

"We already know each other,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn't.

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

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

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

"Oh, for fucks sake,"

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

Fuck how his chest aches. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How about you, kid?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A trait that seemed to have skipped over Bradley.

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

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

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

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

She looks away first. 

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

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

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

"Jake?!"

"Hangman?"

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

"Y/N, Doll! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

That was six months ago. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monsoon bounces instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rooster, are you okay?"

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

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

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

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

"Are you okay, Mr. Bradshaw?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The arguing doesn't stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And drives.

And drives.

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

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

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

But isn't decay an unescapable fact of life?

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

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

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

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

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

Oh boy, how wrong he was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You son of a bitch!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Birthday Cards. Children's birthday cards.

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

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

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

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

That fact is almost too much for him to take. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or her twenty-first. 

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He knows?" 

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

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

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

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

But he can't.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's not quite an understanding, but maybe it's a truce.

At the risk of breaking her own heart, Monsoon chances a look over her shoulder. She watches as Maverick pulls Bradley into a hug, or maybe it's the other way around, it's hard to tell with the swarming of bodies. Either way, the pair wear bright smiles as they embrace and Monsoon doesn't even try to fight off the tears that make their way to her eyes. They aren't tears of anger, no, they are tears of gratitude. Grateful that they all get to live another day, grateful that Maverick and Bradley are giving each other a second chance, and grateful that there isn't a looming cloud hanging over her head anymore. 

She no longer has to wonder about her father, because now she knows he's exactly where he is supposed to be, and both of their lives are better for it. Instead, she has Cyclone, the best father she could have ever asked for, and that is more than enough. 

Cyclone breaks through the crowd, pulling his daughter into his arms, more than thankful for her safe return. He shouts at her, over the crowd, about how well she did and how happy he is that she made it back. The pair hold each other tight for another few moments, neither ready to let go. 

Maverick takes one more look at Monsoon, who's now folded into Cyclone's arms. It's an unfamiliar sight but not an unwelcomed one, for Maverick. One thing's for sure, she is exactly like her Pops- disciplined and talented in the cockpit of a jet. Even more, though, beyond being a good aviator, she is a good person and that's something that Maverick can't regret. 

---

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. One year after the completion of the Uranium Mission and the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A year later, Cyclone and Monsoon find themselves sitting in The Flight Line Bar, her hand thrust out in front of her, ring glittering under the amber lights. 

"You're going to give me away at my wedding, right?" There is a sort of apprehension to her voice as she sips on her beer. 

"It would be my honor, kid," Cyclone slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her sideways into him. He holds her there for a second before letting her sit back upright, a large smile on her lips. 

"Y/N Seresin has a good ring to it," Cyclone adds, bringing his beer up to his lips. 

"About that," Monsoon starts, causing the Admiral to set his beer down, "Jake and I had a conversation, and we thought that having two Aviators in the same squad with the same last name would get confusing, so it's going to be Y/N Simpson, if that's okay with you,"

The Admiral's eyes flood with tears before he can say a single word. They quickly spill down his cheeks and all he can do is look at his daughter, tears of her own overtaking her eyes. 

"I take that as a "yes"?" Monsoon chuckles, wiping her eyes with a shitty bar napkin. 

"Of course it's a yes, kid," Cyclone grabs her hand, holding it on top of the bar. 

The pair sit, hand in hand , tears still wet on their faces and all Cyclone can think about is how fucking lucky he got, how blessed his life is. He finally has a daughter who is happy and in love, a daughter that he will get to walk down the aisle on the most important day of her life. 

When he chances a glance over to her, Cyclone can see the frizz of her hair highlighted by the neon sign buzzing behind her, her cheeks bright red. For a moment, he can see June in the roundness of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Cyclone thinks back to all those years ago, when he and Monsoon first met sitting in this same bar, but he doesn't entertain the memory very long, after all, he has so much to look forward to. So instead, he squeezed her hand. 

"I love you, kid," Beau tells her earnestly, smiling though a few stray tears. 

"I love you too, Pops," Monsoon returns, leaning her head on his shoulder, "Now and always," 

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Hurricanes in New Orleans w/ Cyclone

For @callsign-phoenix 1K celebration. Congratulations, darl! ♡

Imagine you're on holiday in New Orleans with Beau...He's been so tense recently you insisted on going somewhere he could relax far away from the obligations of work. The first night you arrive you're already tipsy when you spot a neon sign for the city's signature cocktail. "Baby, look, we have to try one!" you squeal with delight, pulling your boyfriend toward the crowded bar. He rolls his eyes and warns, "You know I don't drink anything with an umbrella in it." You look at him pleadingly, "But it's a hurricane! Come on, you have to try one. You're Cyclone!" you say with enthusiasm as though he were a superhero. "A cyclone and a hurricane aren't exactly the same thing," he replies wearily and you cross your arms afraid of a boring lecture. "You're way too uptight tonight. You definitely need a drink, Cyclone," you pout at him playfully. He pulls you into his chest and growls, "You know that's not what I like to be called." You smile at him mischievously, wrapping an arm around his toned torso and push up on your tip toes to place a kiss on his cheek. "Would you please have a drink with me, Admiral?" you beg in a seductive voice. He grabs your chin in one large hand and kisses you hard before sighing heavily. "Alright, one drink, but then I'm taking you back to the hotel for my own form of stress relief," he promises with a wicked smirk playing on his lips.

Part 2 (w/ smut)

[ohthatstragic]

I saw you write for Cyclone and would like to humbly request some more. Maybe young!Cyclone and his FWB have a pregnancy scare, and he suggests moving in until the baby is born. But the more pregnant she gets, the more he falls in love with her until finally, he asks her to marry him.

OMG THIS JUST MADE ME AWWW OUT LOUD

YES A MILLION TIMES YES!!

thank you kind anon :,)

-mari <3