#jon hamm x reader

[nobody7102]

The 4th

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, Fireworks, Loud sounds

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

Master-list

--------

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

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

“Did the store have everything?”

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

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

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

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

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

__________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----------

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

[cinebration]

5 Times Cyclone (Barely) Kept His Cool (& 1 Time He Didn’t) (Cyclone x Reader) [One-shot]

Disclaimer: I know nothing about how the Navy and Air Force work.

I had originally planned an entirely different multipart fic, but my brain won't let me write.

Tagged: @crispysublimecupcake, @failure-of-a-student, @abaker74, @green-parx, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @deanscroissant, @b-bradshaw, @alldaysdreamer, @bat-luna-cat, @auntiegigi, @another-bookwyrm, @littlewhiterose, @lucy-sky

Warnings: none

Gif Source: garethamm

Beau “Cyclone” Simpson rarely frequented the bar, not merely because he didn’t much care for the atmosphere but because he felt it necessary to remain distant and aloof from his subordinates—even ones that were just names on paper to him.

After the success of Maverick and his team in destroying the unsanctioned uranium enrichment plant, however, Cyclone found himself alongside Warlock in the bar, watching the TOPGUN pilots toast their triumph. Music thumped a steady beat in the background as the chatter, laughter, and cheers swelled in rolling waves through the enclosed space. Sweat trickled down the back of Cyclone’s neck as the heat of the room pressed down on him.

He tried to let his professional façade relax a fraction. He was just as elated as the flyboys at the success of the mission—more so, considering he had known the full ramifications of the crisis should they have failed. His relief was as palpable as the strength of the relieved expression on Warlock’s face.

Sipping his beer, he scanned the room, lips bearing the faint ghost of a smile as he noted the euphoric faces of his subordinates. Beyond the core group clustered around the pool table, several pilots sat or stood in scattered groups, elbowing each other and laughing, beers in hand.

Beyond them, in the far corner beside one of the windows overlooking the beach, you sat at a table, a half-filled glass in front of you. One foot propped up on the chair across from you, aviators hanging from the collar of your blouse, dark jeans, and ankle boots the same color of brown as your faux leather jacket, you had the same easy confidence tinged with a hint of arrogance as Maverick, of all people.

Cyclone stared.

“Cyclone? Beau?”

Cyclone’s attention snapped to Warlock. “What?”

“Are you really so incapable of enjoying yourself?”

He frowned. “What?”

“You really weren’t listening.” Warlock shook his head. “We’re here to relax and enjoy the win.”

“There are too many other things to win,” Cyclone countered. “This is just one.”

He glanced at your table.

Your seat was empty.

Cyclone straightened in his seat, scanned the room. The flyboys blocked his view, flaring his irritation as he strained to see past them.

Nothing.

Cyclone ground his teeth in disappointment.

“What’s the matter?”

He shook his head, biting back the retort surging through him: You let her get away. Again.

“Nothing,” he muttered. He sucked on his beer, the taste of it flat on his tongue. “Nothing at all.”

~~

A week and a half later when Cyclone had finally succeeded in pushing away the frustration and disappointment, he sat in a war room across from his counterpart in the Air Force, a man he begrudgingly respected not so much for his track record as for his personality. The man had managed to rise with a stellar career through the Air Force without turning into a total asshole.

Seated at the head of the table, the Secretary of Defense, a retired general of significant pedigree, intoned in a deep, buttery voice, “The mission requires a joint operation between the Air Force and the Navy. The Commander-in-Chief is demanding that it be done quickly and with such precision that it would make a neurosurgeon eat his shirt.”

General Charles Mcloughlin chuffed a quiet laugh. “The neurosurgeons I know would never.”

Unamused, SECDEV continued, “This mission is top priority. I don’t need to remind you that we need top-level talent and genius thinking to get this done. So do it.”

With that, the man left the room, his aide scurrying after him like a remora trying to keep up with a shark. Cyclone turned to Mcloughlin, who returned his hard stare with a heavy calm, unaffected gaze.

“I take it you heard about this beforehand,” Cyclone noted, inclining his head at the folder in front of the other man. “You already have a plan?”

“A semblance of one,” Mcloughlin demurred. “I already have two pilots selected from our end, the real crème-de-la-crème of the entire Force.”

Cyclone sighed. “But?”

“We need to use F-22s.”

Raking a hand over his face, Cyclone leaned forward, forearms digging hard into the table. “F-22s can’t land on aircraft carriers.”

“No, but the carriers can launch support for one.”

“Why would an F-22 need support from anything? No other aircraft matches it.”

“Because we’re going to crash it.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Mcloughlin shook his head. “They’re being phased out by the F-35s. This mission requires us to complete the objective and then make it look like our aircraft can’t handle it anymore.”

“And you want my men to, what? Take enemy fire to make your crash look good?”

“Something like that.”

This job is going to give me an ulcer. The muscle in his jaw jumping, Cyclone stretched out a hand. Mcloughlin placed the folder in his palm. Leaning back in his chair, Cyclone flipped it open.

Your eyes stared at him from the first page. The ghost of a smirk played on your lips, the lens flare in your eyes a mischievous glimmer.

Cyclone swallowed thickly, his heart flinging itself against his ribs. Carefully, he flipped past your dossier, spent as many seconds on the second one as he had on yours.

He snapped the folder shut.

“When do I meet them?”

~~

Cyclone’s general dislike for the Air Force stemmed from a well-hidden jealousy. He had always wanted to get his hands on an F-22 Raptor, but the Navy didn’t use it. Even in his flyboy days, he hadn’t even been able to share the same airspace as one. He had never seen one in person, grounded or airborne.

Standing in a hanger on the Pearl Harbor-Hickam base in Hawai’i, Cyclone could barely contain his excitement and awe as he took in the F-22 Raptor standing but a few yards away. It took all of his control to keep his expression an impassive, unimpressed mask, even with only the general and Warlock in the hanger with him.

“Couldn’t bother to do this back on our home turf,” Warlock muttered to him, shaking his head as he stared up at the fighter. “No, they want to rub it in our faces.”

Cyclone made a noncommittal noise in his throat, then added, “Our pilots could use the humbling.”

“Nevertheless.” Warlock shook his head again.

Mcloughlin stood behind a small podium they had set up off to the side, a number of seats arrayed before it. The TOPGUN pilots and the two Air Force ones were yet to arrive to fill them. With each passing minute, Cyclone felt his heartrate kick up another notch. He ascribed it to the proximity of the stealth aircraft he had once dreamed of being close enough to touch.

It wasn’t until the soft tread of several booted feet scuffed over the cement floor that the blood roared through his ears. Woodenly, he turned to face the assembled pilots taking their seats. Despite their newfound friendship, Rooster sat in the row behind Hangman with Phoenix and Bob, the latter two taking surreptitious glances at the two Air Force pilots. Fanboy and Payback were the least discrete, staring both at the F-22 and the Air Force pilots in turn.

You sat at the back, dressed in a flight suit not dissimilar to the ones the TOPGUN pilots used. The two bars signifying your rank as a captain gleamed sharply in the light streaming through the open hanger doors.

You met Cyclone’s stare. One eyebrow rose up your forehead.

Hands clasped behind his back, Cyclone fought to keep his eyes ahead as Mcloughlin outlined the mission to the pilots. Your stare was magnetic, the pull of it almost irresistible.

By the time he stepped up to the podium, his wrist ached from squeezing it so tightly.

“This mission is a joint Navy and Air Force mission,” he reiterated, his throat straining not to give his nerves away. “That means General Mcloughlin and I retain the same authority.”

Sweat collected beneath the collar of his uniform. He glanced at the Air Force pilot leading the F-22 mission, a Daniel Hummel.

Your stare burned fire through him from the back of the room.

“If you don’t play nice with my men, if you are insubordinate in any way, you are off the mission. The general won’t listen to any appeal.”

His gaze shifted to his own men and women, careful not to pass over you.

“The same holds true for you.” He made a point of looking at Hangman. “There is no inter-branch rivalry here. We’re all on the same mission, which means you have to trust each other. If you don’t play nice, if you are insubordinate in any way, you are off the mission.”

His hands gripped the edges of the podium hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

“Is that understood??”

A chorus of “yessirs” filled the room.

“Dismissed.”

He risked a glance in your direction as you stood to file out with the others. The ache in his hands hardly matched the one in his chest when you didn’t look back.

~~

Rage burned in Cyclone’s veins. It would be one of his own men that instigated the fight during training for a mission crucial not only to the objective but to strengthening Navy-Air Force relations.

He could already hear the Air Force brass whispering up the ladder about the lack of discipline in the Naval Air Forces.

Nerves buzzing, he felt like pacing and screaming at the two troublemakers standing in his office. Instead, he sat rigidly behind his desk, a glower on his face as he stared at Hangman and Rooster. Both men barely met his eye, their postures just as rigid, hands clenched behind their backs.

“What were you thinking?” he asked, the steel in his voice dangerous.

“Nothing, sir,” Rooster answered.

“We were being challenged, sir,” Hangman answered.

Cyclone clenched his teeth. “Did I or did I not say to play nice?”

“Yessir,” the men agreed in unison.

“Then why is Captain Hummel in the hospital?”

“Airmen are made of weaker stuff,” Hangman quipped.

Cyclone’s jaw audibly popped. The faint smirk on Hangman’s face evaporated.

“Thanks to you, the primary on this mission can no longer serve on the mission. We don’t have the time to train another pilot to act as this mission’s secondary, so you both are relieved of duty. I can’t risk you injuring the other pilot. Dismissed.”

Both men shouted “sir, yessir” and filed out of the room so stiffly they threatened to snap their spines. Cyclone passed a hand over his face, releasing an explosive sigh when the door swung shut. His stomach spasmed as he thought of you taking Hummel’s place on the mission. The mission was dangerous as it already was, given the enemy aircraft that were likely to be encountered, but to deliberately trash a fighter in the middle of potential dogfighting another layer of suicidal to an already insane mission.

He hadn’t even spoken to you directly yet. The opportunity hadn’t yet arrived.

There’s no point, he thought to himself. You aren’t built for…anything but this job. It is your only mistress.

His nails dug into his palms.

Now he might never have the chance to find out otherwise.

~~

Chaos reigned on the aircraft carrier. The last of the F-18s had yet to land, instead doing circles above the aircraft. The enemy fighters had disengaged when the carrier had come into view, but not before launching a missile that hadn’t been intercepted.

It hit your win, as you rolled, sending you into an out-of-control spiral. Your engines clipped the edge of the aircraft carrier, a quarter-of-a-mile off your intended target.

The crash had been real, taking a section of the landing strip with it.

The urge to vomit overwhelmed Cyclone. Breathing shallowly through his nose, he waited. He waited an eternity for the final F-18 to touch down, Phoenix and Bob climbing out of the cockpit with unsteady legs. He waited an eternity for the rescue team to launch out after you, your parachute a clear beacon on the choppy water.

He waited an eternity for you to be brought onboard. Another eternity for the medics to flock to your side, surrounding you like vultures around carrion.

His stomach dropped when the chopper lifted off, carrying you to the nearest base for emergency medical assistance.

He slumped in the chair of his tiny office onboard the carrier. Numb, he reached for the phone already connected to General Mcloughlin’s line.

The general answered immediately.

“I heard,” he said.

The silence felt like a vacuum sucking out Cyclone’s breath.

“You ever bring a mission like this to my table again,” he hissed, “I will make you eat the proposal.”

He slammed the phone back in its cradle. Stared at it.

Picked it up again and slammed, slammed, slammed it against the desk until it shattered in his hands. A roar filled his skull.

Anything not bolted down smashed across the room, tore in his hands. The rage and despair gripped him in a dark whirlwind that violence didn’t satisfy.

He sunk back down into his chair, slid off it in a heap as its broken leg gave way.

Warlock found him sitting up against the wall, shirt unbuttoned, hair a mess.

“She’s back at Pearl Harbor,” he said simply.

“Get me there.”

When he arrived, you were out of surgery and recovering. Forced to wait half a day before he could see you, Cyclone diverted all his calls to Warlock and delegated everything else. He sat statuesque in the waiting room, consuming nothing but bitter, thick coffee that made his stomach burn.

You were awake when the nurses let him into the room. Bruises mottled your face, your broken arm in a cast.

He almost couldn’t bear to look at you.

You tilted your head to better see him. A faint smile split your cracked lips. “Did that catch your attention?”

He choked on his tongue. “What?”

“I’m glad to see I’m important.”

Cyclone gently grabbed your hand. “You were always important.”

You laughed brokenly. “Come back when I’m not hopped up on meds. We have a lot to talk about.”

He promised quietly to return the next day.

Only when you were out of eyesight did he lean against the nearest wall and thank God for your survival. He fought back tears of relief through the prayer.

[oncasette]

sfw or nsfw hcs with beau simpson?

his lockscreen is a picture of you from the fourth of july. it’s on his parents’ boat and you’re looking at the fireworks over the lake and he thinks it’s the prettiest you’ve ever looked. he picks up his phone sometimes just to look at it.

he takes you out for breakfast on saturday mornings. it’s always somewhere different, but it’s always the same time. and he never lets you pay.

he has a pittbull named harley that loves you more than she loves him. she’ll greet you at the door when you come over & refuses to sit with him on the couch when you’re there. he pretends he’s jealous of you stealing his dog, when really he’s a little upset harley’s stealing all your attention

harley’s the flower girl at your wedding

he never used his kitchen before you started dating. but then, the first time you’d spent the weekend with him, you drug him into the small apartment kitchen to make chocolate chip cookies at midnight and he finds himself cooking for you a lot more

nsfw!

he has a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs that had been gifted to him as a gag gift when he was still in his twenties. he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gotten rid of them for the longest time but now he loves how pretty you look hooked up to the headboard

he hates waking you up early in the morning when he has to go to work, so he’ll usually leave with a quick kiss before he’s out the door. but on the mornings you wake up with or before him. it’s rare that he’s not fucking you over the bathroom sink.

will come home during lunch if you have the day off for a quickie. even if he only has long enough to eat you out for five minutes. he’s coming home

[krmy2386]

Different Lives

Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x Reader

PLEASE DON’T STEAL!!!

Be kind😅

I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG! I have been VERY unmotivated!

No warnings! It’s fluff🥰

Sometimes Beau Simpson felt like he lead two different lives. Like Clark Kent or Bruce Wayne. He had an entirely different personality the minute he was off the military base.

At Top Gun, Beau would sooner die that show any emotion other than distain.

The minute he would drive off base he would smile and sing along to whatever old rock song was playing.

“Have a good evening!” The gate guard said and Beau simply nodded in return.

After about 5 minutes of driving Beau turned on the radio.

“… up next, classic rock love ballads!”

Beau smiled as one of his favorites came on. It reminded him of Y/N and he found himself singing along as he thought of her.

It wasn’t until the song was over, and this throat slightly hurt, Beau realized he practically yelled the entire song.

————————————————————————

Everyday at work he would act annoyed at whatever dumb things the pilots had done. But he knew he had done dumber. In fact, to friends and family outside of the military, he was known as a huge goofball.

Beau and Y/N were hosting a pool party for close friends and family.

“… then we drove off, no shoes, still throwing eggs at the neighbors!” Beau said dying of laughter after telling a story about pranking his high school math teacher.

Beau’s brother quickly chimed in, “Remember when you were caught Skinny dipping with Miss Richards’ granddaughter?”

Beau groaned at the memory.

Y/N let out a laugh, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one?”

Beau looked at her and smirked, “Why don’t we reenact it?”

Before she could think, Beau grabbed Y/N and hoisted her over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” She screamed while laughing.

“Ok.” Beau said, throwing her in the pool and quickly jumping in after her.

The two quickly resurfaced and before Y/N could argue or fuss, he pulled Y/N in to a kiss.

————————————————————————

But the biggest difference was how he acted at home. On base Beau was known as cold and distant, purely business. At home With Y/N, that could’ve be further from the truth.

Beau wanted attention, as always. He had been calling for Y/N for a while before he found her on the couch.

Y/N so engrossed her book she didn’t hear him.

Beau watched for a minute before sneaking up behind her and speaking, “Good book?”

Y/N jumped.

“You scared the crap out of me!” She playfully scolded. He plopped down in the couch next to her putting his arm around her.

“Well you should’ve paid more attention to me.” He joked as he wrapped his arm around her.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes, “You are so clingy.”

Beau scoffed, “I am not! It’s just that I will die with out constant love affection from you!” He joked and the two laughed.

Y/N looked at Beau. He seemed to have a constant smile on his face when ever he was home.

“Why do you act this way?” Y/N asked bluntly.

Beau looked at her confused, “What do you mean? I act the same as I always have?” Which is true. From the moment they started dating he was the exact same person. Outside of work.

“I mean why do you act so normal here, but at work you say you have to be stone-faced and uptight. That’s not you.” Y/N said earnestly.

Beau sighed, “Well, part of it is my rank. When I was younger I could be a little more free-spirited. But entering Top Gun you have to be competitive and think before you feel. And with my rank, no one wants an Admiral who can’t take the very serious job seriously.”

Beau thought about all he gave up for the Navy, Top Gun specifically. He did sacrifice a lot of himself to make it where he had. But he had her. She accepted both lives he lived and loved both sides of him.

Tag list

@luckyladycreator2

@b-bradshaw

@t-rexs

@rosiahills22

@vienna1644

@timbradfordsboot

@blue-aconite

@barbiegirlbaby

@ahopelessromanticwritersworld

@wanniiieeee

@insomniac23

@xinsonyax

@goawayi-mreading

@daughterofthereaper02

[lieutenantfloyd]

JAMES I HAVE A HUGE REQUEST 😏👀 AS IF WE DID NOT JUST TALK ABOUT THIS BAHAHA. But sugar daddy Tom and Jon?? 👀👀👀

IM IN SHAMBLES BESTIE OUR MINDS

Asks and you shall receive.

Words: 1.4k

Note: OUR MINDS!!! I definitely want to expand this into a complete fic, but I just have to get this thought out there because omg.

In Demand | Jon Hamm x Reader x Tom Cruise

You didn't make a habit of breaking rules. You honestly found comfort in them. you'd never have agreed to this little "arrangement" if you had a problem with rules. Yet months jetting around to the world's top destinations to promote a movie that beckons audiences to all but ogle your two men would lead anyone to reconsider things. Especially when the countless interviews, red carpets, and plane rides left no room in the schedule for any attention you've grown so accustomed to. 

Attention. A priceless form of love. 

How could two men who all but showered you in the finest of luxuries be unable to afford this simple thing? And how bad could breaking just one little rule be?

Attention you craved, attention you'd receive.

Another day, another premiere. 

Smile for the camera, crack a few jokes with the cast, and be the arm candy of whichever of the two men wanted you more on that given day. It was almost becoming second nature at this point. Yet as you choose a sparkling diamond bracelet from your well-stocked jewelry case, you couldn't help the nerves beginning to flutter in your stomach. This wasn't just another premiere, this was the Cannes Film Festival. The event that sets the tone for both audiences heading to the theatre and the academy heading into awards season alike. 

Just as your anxiety began to take hold, Jon's soft touch broke you from your thoughts. As he began fastening the bracelet around your wrist you couldn't help but think about how this was as much attention you'd received from him or Tom in what felt like months. You savored his touch, gentle but with an air of command. So uniquely Jon. Without another thought, the fingers of your free hand found their way behind his head and into the cropped hair just above his collar. His eyes flashed upwards, not quite meeting yours, before dropping again. You suppressed a giggle. 

Rule number 4. No touching while at work.

Work, meaning anything from starring in a global blockbuster to helping you with your jewelry. Just then, Tom and his entourage of assistants came through the door to inform you both it was time to leave. 

Jon raises your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your wrist before leading you to the door before pausing to allow tom to place a kiss on your cheek. As Tom pulled back, he gave you a million-dollar smile allowing you the first glimpse of the glimmer only Tom Cruise has in his eye. A direct contrast to Jon's almost stoic expression. 

Jon, the disciplinarian perfectionist to Tom's impassioned wild child.

While Tom was the more physically affectionate one, it was the small things with Jon. A kiss just above the band of diamonds letting you know he knew exactly what you were doing.

Rule number 3 on the ever-lengthening list. Always wear something that shows just who you belong to.

You were led through the hotel and into a black SUV. All the while both Tom and Jon paid you compliment after compliment, almost as if they didn't choose your outfit for today. 

-

An hour later, you finished your first photo op and were chatting with the other attendees of the star-studded event, your men nowhere in sight. You were in the midst of a conversation with another side actress when you noticed the group across the red carpet.

The conversation dropped off as you shifted focus to the cast of Elvis, and most importantly the leading man. You'd long been following the production and were more than excited to see him here. Tom had already scheduled a private viewing of the movie for you both in the coming weeks but you couldn't miss an opportunity to congratulate Austin himself on landing the role of a lifetime.

-

For the first time in months, you had someone's undivided attention, and Austin was both captivating and captivated. Your hands were held tightly in his as he drank in your compliments in the shy yet gracious way he was becoming known for. Bringing your hands to his chest, he returned the favor warmly. This exchange continued on, but it wasn't long before two sets of eyes began boring into you both. This didn't go unnoticed by Austin, who had several restless sets trained on him from his own cast already. With a soft smile, he leaned down slightly so you could hear him over the shouts of photographers.

"I'd love to talk more, but my manager's calling me and it seems like you're a much-desired woman," he said, glancing nervously over your shoulder. "Thank you so much for all the lovely words. I hope to see you later on." He finished with a slight wink before sauntering off into the crowd.

With that, you turned around sheepishly to meet the gazes of Tom and Jon. They both held a hand out to you before Jon stepped forward to meet you halfway. Tom was still smiling like always though there was a hint of challenge in his eyes. Meanwhile, Jon's borderline territorial expression was again replaced with the charmingly stoic mask he first put up at the hotel. As they led you back to the group without a word, you tried to push back a smile as their hands held onto you a bit tighter.  Any agitation toward you was ignored on your part as you instead focused on having your men's undivided attention once more.

-

Untrained eyes would've never caught it. In fact, the hundreds of eyes trained on you three from behind telephoto lenses only saw a group of Hollywood costars promoting this year's biggest action flick. Yet you sensed it before your eyes even landed on him. The way his palm abandoned the small of your back only to find a home at the nape of your neck. The looks he and Tom share as the event continues around you. A shudder runs down your spine but your smile never falters.

Rule number 2. Always look good for the cameras. No amount of doe eyes and pleas of innocence would ward off the unholy sermon he's piecing together in that pretty head of his.

Soon enough their portion of the event was ending. The men said their goodbyes to the cast before all but dragging you to the car. Just like before, a silence fell between you three. The next 30 minutes occurred in reverse order of how your day began. It wasn't until the door closed behind the three of you that things changed. 

In an instant, Jon's demeanor shifted drastically. You could practically feel the mixture of irritation and disappointment radiating off him. Grabbing you by the elbow, Jon ushered you to the bedroom while Tom looked on almost sympathetically before moving deeper into the suite. 

Rule number 1. Unless your life depends on it,  Never let another man touch you.

Tossing his jacket absentmindedly onto the bed, you sat like always, awaiting his lecture.

"You know how important this event was to Tom and I, yet you run off to what? Get another man's attention?" He scolded.

Your mouth opened and closed as your brain searched desperately for an answer. Before you could come up with one, he scoffed condescendingly and began speaking again.

"That was a rhetorical question, sweetheart. But let's see how our dumb little girl can answer a real one. What did you plan to accomplish? Huh? Was it the attention you crave so much?"

"Y-yes.." you answer as tears well up in your eyes. Just then Tom enters the room and sits in an armchair across from the bed.

"So, how about we remind her of what's expected?" Tom asks while sending you a daring look.

Jon nods and crosses the room. His hand grips your jaw firmly, forcing your eyes up to meet his. Under Jon's touch and with your feet dangling off the end of the bed, you truly feel pathetic. 

"These rules are in place for a reason young lady, so unless you want your punishment to be even worse, I highly suggest you drop the innocent act and own up to your failures."

His words cause the tears welling in your eyes to fall in big dramatic drops. You never intended to break the rules Jon so lovingly put in place, yet your nativity led you to stumble. Now your mind was racing with all the possible punishments 

Jon watches your reaction closely before smirking down at you.

"What a shame. The girl has disobeyed us so many times she knows what's coming before we even tell her." Jon says to Tom, almost as if you weren't in the room.

"That's deserving of punishment by itself, isn't it?" Tom sneers in response, leaning forward to place his forearms on his knees as both of their brazen eyes land on you.

"Damn right it is."

[dckweed]

NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

series masterlist here, series playlist here.

special mention to my girly @xxbookdrunkdemigodxx for listening to my rambles and helping me out with the playlist!

PART TWO: the ride

True to his word, Gator had become your friend. The first couple days of the week passed with the two of you holed up in the house together, pretending to work on the wedding planning even though neither of you knew what the hell you were doing. You kept to the upstairs living room, wanting to stay as far away from Boyd as you possibly could, still angry at him for the whole situation and not wanting to cross paths with him again for as long as you could, your stomach still hurting under the fabric of your shirt from the lashing you had been given from Boyd’s belt as soon as the Tillman’s had left the morning of their first visit. Three times he had hit you, the leather of the belt welting your skin through the thin fabric of the dress you had been wearing. That was typical Boyd, always harsh and quick, and always on parts of your body that were easily hidden by clothes. It had been that way since your mother had married him, though you had kept it a secret from her due to the fear he had built in your brain about what he would do to her if you told her. You didn’t dare tell Gator either, not sure if you really trusted him with that secret quite yet, and definitely not sure of what would happen if Boyd found out. You didn’t want anymore drama than there already was in this god forsaken house. 

You liked Gator well enough, he was easy conversation, a little dense in some areas but what he lacked in that he made up for in humor and the willingness to at least listen to you explain. The two of you talked about plenty of things but mostly school and whether or not either of you had been seeing anyone before you had been forced into your godawful situation. You weren’t sure if you were reading his face right, but for some reason you thought that he looked rather pleased when you said that you hadn’t ever exclusively dated anyone, strictly forbidden by Boyd. You learned that he had only ever had one serious girlfriend in his life, in the last years of highschool, though she had taken off to some fancy school on the east coast when they had graduated and he never heard from her again. You could see the swirl of emotions in his big brown eyes, and the way his mouth tensed as he spoke. He shook his head and changed the topic a moment later, picking up one of the magazines laid out on the ornate coffee table in front of the two you and asking what the hell the difference between Ivory and White was and why did it matter so much which shade your dress was. 

Those first two days were rather pleasant, you found yourself awfully comfortable in his presence, relaxed even, and the next day when he didn’t show up just after breakfast, you had to admit you were a little disappointed, but you got about your business none the less, trying not to dwell on it. He’s a Sheriff’s Deputy, you reminded yourself, he wont have time to talk to you twenty four seven..and then you kicked yourself for even feeling upset about not having his attention for the day. You’d known him for four whole days, what the hell was wrong with you? 

He texted you around lunch time. 

Gator: sorry for not being able to help today, even though i know im not much help to begin with..i’m on duty for 24hrs

You were slightly giddy and that made you slightly disgusted with yourself, you barely knew this dude and you were being essentially coerced into marrying him, what the hell is wrong with you?

You: you wont miss much, promise! Be safe out there..

You felt like that was the stupidest response you could have possibly sent, but oh well. You weren’t wrong though, he wouldn’t miss much. The day was mostly spent in the upstairs living room, sprawled on the couch as you called the bakery in town to schedule a tasting for next weekend, and the local bridal boutique to schedule a showing for this weekend..afterwards you spent the next few hours sorting through different styles of wedding dresses you thought you would like, sparing no expense on designers because if you were being forced to do this damn thing, then Boyd was certainly going to pay the fucking price one way or another. And then after you had spent as long as you could doing that, you begrudgingly made your way down the stairs, you had dragged your feet long enough on the girls’ dresses for the wedding, and if you picked them out without their fathers input, you feared you would face another lashing. 

You hesitated outside of his office door, taking a deep breath before raising your fist, knocking once, twice, before he gave you the okay to come in. He’s seated at his annoyingly large desk and just barely glances up at you from whatever paperwork he’s doing as you step into the room, closing the door behind you like he liked. “Ah, i was just about to send for you,” He says, setting down his pen as you step closer and closer to his desk, your magazines heavy in your hands. “Sheriff Tillman has requested that the ride with you be moved up to tomorrow morning, his wife has to go out of town this weekend and he’s decided to go with her.” You hum in acknowledgement and he notices your laden arms. “Whatever do you have there?” 

How could he speak to you so calmly? As if you weren’t sporting the markings of his rage on your skin? “I’m going to the bridal boutique this weekend, and I want to get the girls' dresses while I'm there, I thought maybe you’d like to help pick them out..” You say gingerly, he seemed to be in a good mood but you could never be too sure with him. 

He nods once, pushing whatever he was working on to the side. “Alright, let's see it.” 

You give a small smile, slightly relieved as you start setting some of the magazines in front of him. “These are some that I liked, but there’s a few more that I wasn’t sure about. Gator and I decided on a purple and green theme, pastel, summer colors..” You prattel nervously, leaning over to show him the styles that you particularly thought were pretty. He hums, glancing up at you over the rim of his glasses as you settle the magazines in front of them. 

“And how are things going with the boy?” He asks, inspecting the pages you had dog eared. 

You were rather taken aback by the question, you hadn’t really known him long enough to know how things were going, let alone marry the poor dude, but yet, here you were, planning a wedding. “They’re okay..he’s funny..” You shrug, not quite sure how to proceed. “He’s working today, but he was here the past couple of days to help..” You weren’t sure why you were telling the man, it's not like he didn’t already know who came and went in his house. 

Boyd hums and the office falls silent for nearly an hour. You’re about to excuse yourself, let him look at them alone so you can get the hell out of there and go eat some lunch or tack up Bubbles for a ride when he speaks up. “I like these ones best, i’m sure the girls will look lovely..” He says, handing you one of the first magazines you had handed him. You have a quiet breath of relief, but roll your eyes subconsciously, annoyed that he had taken that long. You start grabbing things as quickly as you can, itching to get away from him. “I’ll open up the limit on your credit card, spare no expense.” Are the last words he says, you hum in response and walk out of the office quickly, leaning against the door as you close it behind you. 

You’re up before the sun the following morning, your alarm clock bleating around four. You were awake well before it though, your thoughts on a never ending loop. You honestly weren’t even sure if you slept and sighed in annoyance when you trudged your way to your bathroom and noticed the dark bags under your eyes. How were you supposed to sleep? Your life was about to be tethered to someone else’s in a few short weeks, two months wasn’t that much time and you didn’t know this boy for shit. Sure, you guys were on friendly terms at the very least but..marriage? Why had you signed those damned papers? Why did you let him talk you into it? 

Shaking the thought from your head you turn the handle on your sink, letting the water run as you went about your skincare business. You’re dressed in less than half an hour, spending a few minutes at your vanity table to swipe some makeup under your eyes, an old habit you had picked up when you lived here full time before boarding school. You figured it wouldn’t take long before the sleepless nights would start again, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if they would be any better when you were with Gator. 

Gator..

He had never texted you again yesterday, though you had sent him a few messages throughout the day, and even late in the night just to keep your own sanity. Telling him how much Boyd irritated you, telling him that he needed the next weekend free for cake tasting because you didn’t want to choose something he didn’t like, telling him you were bored..sending him a pouty faced selfie when you noticed he had opened but not responded to any of your messages (that he had also opened and never responded to). 

You realized your fiance was a horrible texter and you were going to have to fix that, if you were going to be friends then he needed to at least respond to one of your messages, even if they were annoying. 

By four-forty-five you’ve pulled out of the driveway and are off down the main entrance of Boyd’s ranch, your jeep pulling the horse trailer with Bubbles inside of it with ease. Thankfully one of the ranch hands had woken up earlier than you (he had always been friendly towards you, and it was deeply appreciated because most of Boyds employees treated you like shit too) and attached the trailer to your car and loaded up your horde for you. You even found your saddle and other things in the back of the Jeep when you peeked in to look, surprised that your horse had even been loaded for you. 

You made a mental note to thank the man when you got home. 

The drive to the Tillman Ranch isn’t too long, hell, they were practically your fucking neighbors. You were so focused on survival when you were on the ranch that you had never paid attention to lands that surrounded you. When you arrive at the gate, your headlights shining on the metal and the dirt beyond it, two ranch hands are already there, pulling open the heavy iron for you. 

“Thank you!” You half shout, rolling down your window. The one on your drivers side nods once, tipping his hat at you and proceeds to tell you to follow the road towards the house and barn, he would be right behind you to help you unload. You’re surprised when the Sheriff is already waiting for you when you pull up near the barn. You see him on the porch of his house, arms crossed over his chest and hat perched low on his head and your stomach tightens, your hands shake. If you’re late and he tells Boyd, you’re done for, is all you can think as you slide your key out of the ignition and hop down from your seat, your boots kicking up dust.  

“Mornin’ Miss Augastine!” His voice carries out from the porch, the sun is only just now starting to rise, a dark glow low in the horizon. You breathe in and walk around your car, up to the porch. “Wasn’t expecting you for another hour or so..” You breathe out. “Interest you in some coffee? Breakfast? Karen just put away my breakfast but I’m sure she’d be more than happy to get something going for you.” 

You paint the smile on your face, your morning having been ruined by your brief panic attack. “No, Sir..thank you for the offer, but I was thinking I would go get breakfast with Gator this morning, or an early lunch..” You knew he was probably on his way home by now, and you had the sense that he would probably only sleep for a few hours. 

He hums as he meets you at the foot of the porch, staring down at you from the bottom step. Your cheeks flush and you look anywhere but at him as his eyes rake over your body. You hear him mutter something akin to ‘pretty little thing’ under his breath, but you knew you weren’t supposed to hear it so you pretend not to. You were dressed for a casual ride, blue jeans that fit tight in all the right places but loose on your legs, draped over your brown and pink leather boots, and you wore a pink short sleeved polo shirt, the buttons undone enough to show just the hint of cleavage that was sexy enough to keep men entertained but innocent enough to not get you in trouble. You had your own cowboy hat pulled down over your hair, resting comfortably on your head. 

“He’s not home yet.” Is all he says when you mention his son, his tone cool and slightly unfriendly. You furrow your brow, wondering why there was the sudden change in demeanor when it came to his boy. “That your show horse?” He steps down off the porch, and you look up to him still, the man being much taller than you even on even ground. 

“She’s for more than just show, Sir..” You say playfully, a smile on your face as you happily lead him over to the trailer. He helps you lead her out of the trailer, admiring her with you and then leads you on a slow walk to the barn. 

He seems kind, but you know its more for show than anything. You soak it up though, letting him open the barn doors for you even though you’re more than capable of doing it yourself, and you let him lead you into a stall near the back of the barn so you can leave Bubbles and go get the rest of your stuff to tack up. After a few more minutes of talking the two of you separate, you going off to your jeep, and he going off towards his horse to tack up. 

As you step out of the barn the sun has risen just a little bit more, and you hear a car pulling up next to yours. “What are you doin’ here?” His voice holds a tinge of familiar nervousness to it, and you can’t help but to soften up for it. He’d gotten out of his squad car before he’d even turned the damn thing off, the radio still on. Your breath caught as your eyes took in his uniform, he sure is somethin to fuckin’ look at, you said to yourself, swallowing back wicked thoughts. “Thought you weren’t doin’ this til the weekend?” 

“Plans changed.” You shrug, not really sure what else to say. You figured he of all people would have known that his dad was going out of town this weekend. “He’s in the barn.” Brown eyes dart behind you and then back to you, looking you over. “Want to go get lunch or somethin’ later?” 

He sighs, running  a hand down his face, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah..yeah lets get lunch later..”He says, turning on his heel. You shake your head, going to grab your saddle out of your car, just as you’re stepping around the front of it you hear him again. “I got it, Pearlie..” You sigh, but not from annoyance as he lifts it out of your grasp. You liked the way your name sounded when he said it, like it meant something and nothing all at the same time. You shake your head, feeling silly for the thought and follow him. 

Roy is headed out of the other side of the barn just as you follow Gator in. “Mornin’ dad.” He says, voice a hard and cold tone. 

The older man already mounted in his saddle merely tips his hat at his son, but gives you a friendly smile. “Miss Pearl, I’ll be outside when you’re ready.” He says as if there’s no rush, but you know from his sons body language that there most likely is. 

Gator’s shoulders are tense and you know it’s not from the weight of the heavy leather saddle he’s carrying. You rush in front of him to open the stall door, trying to be helpful, and you can see the pinched look on his face, the coldness in his big brown eyes. He lifts the saddle up and sets over Bubbles, who stands perfectly for him. He turns his hat backwards and you just about melt into the hay strewn floor, who knew that stupid things like a man you’re engaged to turning his hat backwards could be so damn hot? He doesn’t say a word as he starts fastening the gear in place, like he’s done it a thousand times before. 

It only hits you just then that he probably has done it a thousand times before, his father clearly loved the animals, why wouldn’t he teach his son how to tack up and mount? 

“You didn’t have to do that for me, Gator..” You say softly as he finishes. He only shrugs and straightens up, patting Bubbles on the belly gently as he does. “Thank you..” You whisper as you walk past him, grabbing the horn of her saddle so you could pull yourself up. 

Just as you’re about to put a boot in the stirrups you feel his chest against your back, the smell of whatever it is he smokes encompassing you as he grabs your hips firmly and lifts with ease. “Good?” He asks, watching you settle into the saddle. You nod once, hoping your hair and hat are doing a good enough job of hiding the flush on your cheeks and neck, not having expected such a display of obvious strength. “Good..off you go then..” He holds the stall open for you and you ease Bubbles out of it, just as you start to walk past him you feel his hand on your calf. He’s looking up at you with an expression you’re not familiar with on his face, and it makes you worry. “Be careful with him.” It comes out as more of a statement, but you can hear the pleading behind it, and it makes you worry even more, a slurry of questions forming in your mind. “..please?” 

“Okay..” You say. He lets you go and you don’t question farther, spurring Bubbles to follow out the way you had seen Roy going with his own horse. “Hey Gator?” You look over your shoulder at him, he has his hands on his hips. “Go take a nap the bags under your eyes are bigger than the ones in my closet!” You laugh as you leave him behind you, and you swear you can hear him chuckling too. 

The ride starts off in silence, you and Roy side by side as he took you on the scenic route through the ranch. You had to say that you really didn’t know much about the Tillman’s, you wouldn’t know how to start off the conversation even if you had wanted to, and you truly didn’t want to, not with Gator’s pleading words lingering in the back of your mind. 

The ranch really is beautiful, especially in the early starts of the summer, the rolling hills are green, and you can see where they have more cattle off in the distance. It’s a calming atmosphere, more relaxed than life was on the Augastine ranch. 

“How’s my son been?” His voice is deep and rough, startles you for a moment. You turn to look at him, adjusting your hat in the glare of the sun. “He bein’ nice?” Nice didn’t sound like a word that was normally in Sheriff Tillman’s vocabulary, you wanted to point it out, the smart mouthed bitch in you raring at the thought but you thought of what Gator had said, and then you thought of Boyd and your still aching ribs and thought better of it. 

“He’s been sweet.” You say, offering a small smile, the warmth of the sun hitting the skin of your face. “Real helpful with the wedding plans..he’s taking me to lunch after this too..” You say, rambling nervously. “Oh, before I forget, did he ever ask you about the twins being in the wedding?” 

Roy shakes his head at you, pursing his lips. “I don’t recall a conversation..Karen would have mentioned it to me i’m sure..” You notice his hands tighten on his reins and you furrow your brows at it. 

“Oh, he probably just forgot is all.” You chuckle, wanting it to stay light hearted. Truly, you had never even asked him to ask anything about the girls and you hoped you weren’t about to get him in trouble because of your small fib..you just wanted to change the topic to something more neutral. “I’m going to the bridal shop this weekend to look for my dress, and I already have dresses picked out for my sisters but I was wondering if you’d like me to pick out dresses for the twins as well? I would absolutely love to have them in the ceremony..they could be my flower girls, or hold my train…” Your sisters were already taking the spots as your bridesmaids, you didn’t have a choice in that matter. Gator had three of his best friends stepping in as groomsmen and you only had one friend coming to the wedding, and she was going to be your maid of honor. 

“I think that’s a lovely idea, Miss Pearl.” He says and for a moment, everything is silent again as he hums a tune you’re not familiar. “Matter of fact..” You glance over at him again. “Karen and I are leaving to go out of town tonight, we’ll be gone through the weekend..we were planning to take the girls with us, but I’m wondering if you want to take them with to the Bridal shop if you want them fitted for dresses? Karen and I would love the alone time, of course if you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on them with Gator for the weekend?” You wanted to protest, but, you realized that it was probably a good excuse to get yourself out of Boyd’s house for a few days, and just the thought sounded heavenly, even if it meant carting around your fiance’s sisters and playing house with him. 

“You know what, Sheriff Tillman,” You say, giving him your dazzling, people pleasing smile, the kind that had man many a guy weak in the knees back at boarding school. “That sounds like a fantastic weekend, i’d love to get to know my new little sisters better, you and Karen go have fun on your little trip! Me and Gator can handle things!” 

He gives you an easy smile in return. “Well alright then.” He says, and then nudges you with his knee from his horse. “And please, little lady, call me Roy.” He gives you a wink that sends unpleasant shivers down your spine and you giggle politely in return. 

taglist: @ruth-barnes @justherebecausesafarisucks @daisy-is-a-writer @xxbookdrunkdemigodxx @girlwiththerubyslippers @keerygal @lilllbabyyy @boa-hemian @sweetdazequeen @emilyj444 @whisperingwillowxox @babyqnn @lou-la-lou @aestheticaltcow @finalmoondragon @boxofsmittens @pollyspocketdimension @kassy-munson @frostandflamesfanfic @mysticalstar30 @totally-bogus-timelady @nerdypinupcrystal @emmiecrush5-blog @witchcovenboys @starksbabie @marrowfrog00 @boop369 @lelenikki

[bugbugboy]

Why is the only solo Gabriel (good omens) fic on this website the most beautifully written slow burn I've bothered to read to date

[profeyandere]

𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋 ─── ☾ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍

Masterlist || Good Omens Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Archangel Gabriel x Demon!Reader

Warning: None :)

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

Your heart was beating softly for the first time in the last eleven years after the little offspring of your Lord, the much desired and acclaimed Antichrist that you had waited for so long, had finally appeared in the lives of the rest of humanity as the reminder of evil on the planet and the imminent threat of the End of the World, with which it would take with it any sign of life on Earth and bring with it a hope that an eternal war would begin between the great celestial group, which the human being had adored so much during all its centuries of existence thanks to the biblical writings and the various witnesses of God's miracles, and the opposing side made up of sinners and followers of Satan who had fallen from Heaven with him or joined his ranks shortly after, among which you, the adored angel creator of a few planets in the solar system, found yourself having been, like most souls in Hell, one of the many fallen angels who had acted against the God's plans, either through nefarious acts or absurds questions that had provoked the wrath of your Creator. You were not able to remember exactly how everything happened, but what you could point out without any problem and exactly was your curiosity and the great temptation that was to get a higher position on the social ladder of angels. To get a little more respect and recognition, you had caused yourself to become one of the nocturnal beasts that acted evilly to get humans, the perfect creations of the Lord of Heaven, to fall into the clutches of Satan and suffer the same eternal punishment that you and the rest of your fellow demons had been forced to have. Even though your job wasn't as long-suffering as the one you did in Heaven, mainly because you could do things whenever you wanted and you didn't have anyone demanding when to turn in your advances, and it was definitely no worse than lower-ranked devils than you, the vast majority of whom were in charge of suffering constant punishments or doing too boring forced labor that internally killed every demon that got in their way, but in either case, it was much worse than you supposed it could have been ever been. Temptations had become your order of the day, one every morning that you would have to perfect as time went by, or by telling some fib in between to mention that a certain historical event had happened because of you so that your terrifying new boss hadn't destroyed you or thought you as worthless as those who arrived daily below, but you'd been surprised that one of your own, Crowley, had been consorting for several centuries with one of the angels you'd once known while you were one of them, but with whom you hadn't exchanged as many words with him as the serpent in Eden seemed to have.

You discovered his secret during World War II, at the very moment you made sure that the plane that was carrying a large load of explosives was ready to blow up one of the English cities that you had chosen to continue your duties as a demon on Earth and that this one, by the grace of… Well… You know what I mean, would have been diverted to a Church much further away from what was your meeting point. That sudden change of plans surprised you, mainly because no one had orders to divert its trajectory to a different place, but it seemed that by some demonic miracle, one of the many cities on the British island that suffered constant attacks from the Germans had not blown up. You tracked down the miracle, the place from which it had come, and soon found yourself on the rubble of a ruined church where the bomb must have fallen, leaving everything in its path covered in a fine layer of dust and a mist caused by the explosion that quickly dissipated as soon as a bit of fresh air enveloped what had been a place of dreams. Your position on the rubble allowed you to visualize the demon of sunglasses that was then slowly cleaning them while a series of lamentations from a white-haired man that you couldn't recognize at first was heard in the background; they were Crowley and Aziraphale, the two enemies acting as a team. That sight left you speechless, mainly because you knew what a betrayal of this caliber entailed, and, although you were a few seconds away from disappearing to notify your headquarters of the nefarious actions that the demon was carrying out, you were surprised that both supernatural beings seemed to have helped each other as if they were friends and had obtained quite favorable results from their encounter on Earth.

The conception of a demon being friends with an angel was not in your mind, mainly because you were aware of the great punishment that such disobedience could entail, but, shortly after confronting Crowley during one of the trips he made in his Bentley in insults from various drivers were heard due to the sudden zigzagging of the car, it made you understand that this agreement could even be beneficial for both parts, both for a demon and for an angel, even more so with Armageddon on the way and about to happen, but you did not know what that could cause in your broken and afflicted badly wounded heart. You didn't want to stop Armageddon, at least not completely, but it was almost unavoidable not to intercede so as not to lose everything. Where would you live if the world plunged into a world of lava, explosions, starvation, and desert? What would you do on Saturday afternoons if the cafeteria that you occasionally visited with Crowley disappeared from the universe? How would that Jane Austen story to which you had become so hooked because of Aziraphale's temptations and offer to make his bookstore a place where you felt at home end? How would you feel if in the Great Final Battle, you lost that archangel for whom you had yearned so much from the moment of your mere existence in that wide and cold universe? Why did everything have to be so difficult? Those were questions that would never be answered.

A strong gust of wind caught your attention and, although you wanted to pretend that the presence of the newcomer had not affected you, you saw yourself in the obligation to snort to prevent your smile from becoming so wide that it could cause your mouth to hurt. You weren't in the habit of smiling, rather no demon did except Crowley when he was amused by something or in the company of the sweet white-haired angel, and you didn't want to show any sign of disturbance in your person in front of him; maybe later you would cry, maybe you could burn an entire field in a radius of three kilometers, but you would never allow yourself to show weakness in front of that purple-eyed archangel with whom you had met a few hours ago in what could have been The End of World. "It seems that you had been waiting for me," Gabriel said with an air of grandeur and superiority upon noticing the slight tremor, almost imperceptible, in your shoulders, barely being able to distinguish the features of your face because of your soft hair that waved gently and hid you.. He had to make a mental note that he had to stop appearing like that, or maybe he would never be able to fully see the expressions of the people, demons, or angels he visited. "You will be happy, you have stopped Armageddon. The reason why we have waited so many centuries to find out which side is the best is not going to happen, and all thanks to... What did you call it? 'The power of love'?" Deep down you were unable to tell if he was saying it sarcastically, with anger, or with joy. You never knew how to read the intentions of the Supreme Archangel well during your stay in Heaven, much less now after spending millennia so far from him. It had always been a mystery, both to you and to the rest of the universe. "You've become very funny, haven't you? And here I thought that you would still be the sanctimonious one who walked through the enormous corridors of Heaven with a white robe and a silk sheet around his neck while listening to the praise of others for his person as an egocentric who is not capable of appreciating the unaffiliated work," you murmured with some resentment, placing your hands behind your back while you felt how the tight black suit that held tightly to your shoulders and fell gracefully to the height of your waist. Maybe it was a short garment, but it suited you fabulously.

"It's still happening, not as much as before, but there are still some who are devoted to me, not like others," the archangel commented as he took a couple of steps towards you, keeping a small distance between the two who, according to you, almost seemed kilometers. You were like two people unknown to each other, even if at the beginning of time you had been almost thick and thin. "And it wasn't that white, it was a darker shade. It was silky white, it's like lime color, but a little duller." It didn't take long for your brow to frown upon hearing that, confusing you. "But they are the same thing," you pointed out, turning your gaze towards him, meeting the profile of the archangel who seemed to have a small smile appearing between his lips, even if it was hardly noticeable due to how tense his body was and his attempt to remain serene. That image took away your ability to speak and breathe as if it had somehow even stopped all your thoughts, and hit you so hard it restarted your Windows. You didn't know what the latter meant, but you found it quite amusing, and you had finally been able to make use of that strange phrase used by young people. It was true that Gabriel, when you met him, and had the opportunity to work with him on one of the first projects that involved the creation of the universe, that was its design and the shape of the 'stars' and some of the 'planets' that would envelop the Earth and be part of the Milky Way, had presented himself as someone good, attentive, just as an angel should be and even more so one of a position like his, although quite strict and slightly distant with those inferiors to his title. In short, there was nothing to him but low-ranking angels who were best ignored. Perhaps you were not by the side of the gray-haired man as long as other colleagues who had the same mission as you, but you felt recognized with each look and smile from him, which quickly became your main reason to work with more impetus and you win at his side in the great project that God had entrusted to you. Making Gabriel proud was something that you felt you needed because of the way he would reward you, and turn his violet eyes towards you to congratulate you on your great effort. Many would criticize you, in fact, some angels assumed that something strange must happen to you for the simple fact that your adorable smile became more prominent when you saw the archangel near you or when you simply saw him. You adored Gabriel in so many ways that it could have scared anyone but, being an angel, that wasn't so strange either. You were made to love, so what did it matter if you wanted a little more from one of them? Everyone has a favorite, and yours was the supreme archangel. You loved him, and you wanted to do everything possible to have his approval.

"I would like to agree with you and, although at first glance one color and the other seem the same, it is their shades that distinguish them from each other. They are variants," Gabriel commented, interlacing the fingers of his hands to try to have a more authoritative position under your intense gaze, looking at you out of the corner of his eye before returning to observe the dark sky that had settled over you with the passing of the minutes, being able to distinguish the great endless number of lights that were some of the small stars in the firmament that perhaps Crowley should have created so many millennia ago.

"It's still white, no matter where you look at it," you claimed, shrugging your shoulders, adjusting the jacket that surrounded your torso a little, fixing yourself on it for a moment before recriminating his point. "My jacket is black, but it can be completely black, an obsidian or ebony tone, but it's still black no matter how much you try to distinguish the exact tone," you commented, adjusting the garment to your body to prevent the coolness of the night from sneaking in between the flaps of the same. "Are we really arguing about the perception we have of colors? Maybe I'm color blind, and I'm not as perfect as God planned." You could make out the small frown that appeared on the archangel's face. You had inadvertently used a higher tone of voice than usual, making you feel like a stupid devil who was unable to control your emotions, but honestly, who did? Even Crowley, who had spent the longest time on Earth with his dear angel, had been unable to show him his true feelings. Why couldn't you hide them too, or accept them if he hadn't already?

"We may be discussing a trivial matter, but just as I cannot allow you to say that the shades of white are the same, you cannot say that what shines so bright in the sky, that orange sphere, is a star," indicated the archangel as he raised his arm a little to point to the ball of orange tones that he had mentioned, making you frown for making such a comparison that almost seemed sacrilege towards you.

"You can't say that Saturn is a star. Who in their right mind would?"

Your tone full of indignation amused Gabriel, causing a snort to come out of his lips, lightening the atmosphere around you a bit. It had been the first time in centuries that someone had made him laugh in that genuine, reserved way, and it was precisely because of that that he realized how much he had missed you, even a demon. He always admired the way you had worked so hard to please God, even if, deep down, you had never done it for your Creator, and he found your devotion to each of your creations that still roam the universe to this day enchanting. Therefore, contrary to what he might have thought to do to continue with the creation of the cosmos, he took the trouble to show you one of the most recent planets to which you had shown such devotion from the moment of its mere creation. He could still remember the way you complained about the cold of the expansive and dark universe, how warm your body felt against his when he cradled you between his three great wings, and the way your eyes sparkled with wonder at the various rings of Saturn revolving around the planet along with the many moons that accompanied it. That last one wasn't a design error, you yourself thought that the planet's design was slightly simple and that perhaps the big planet must have had more than just rings to decorate its slightly lonely background surrounded by space rocks. Gabriel missed those times a lot, and, seeing you next to him, only caused the memories so hidden in his mind to resurface quickly. In the back of his mind, he could still hear the loud guffaws of joy coming from your lips, which even reached Pluto and got stuck there waiting for your return, and on the huge Moon, you could still hear your cries asking for forgiveness for what happened.

[topgungirl]

TOP GUN MAVERICK ROLEPLAY DISCORD

Mission: Now Recruiting!

Brief: We have only roleplayed one mission so far and are still new and growing. Getting in at the start of a server like this allows for tons of creative freedom and opportunity to get established within stories. We hope to see this server grow into a whole world filled with pilots, navy mechanics, police, doctors, etc. We are playing present day 2024 and try to go day by day but can pause plots as needed for real life. We also have fun events like Navy balls and holiday parties within RP. We are a very welcoming, small family and love fresh writing!

Server Size: 7 People. We are a server/life balanced roleplay group. We understand that real life comes first and that this is just a hobby. Therefore, if you ever need a hiatus or break, you don't have to leave the server. This is one server where you can go live life and come back without fear of plots being dropped or being kicked out for not being on and writing enough. We also are strictly drama-free and do not stand for others feeling left out when writing.

Do You Accept?: Comment or Message!

MOST CANONS ARE AVAILABLE (Besides Phoenix, Bob, Beau, and Maverick)

OC'S WELCOME WITH ADMIN APPROVAL!

(This is a group style TGM RP discord.)

[ohthatstragic]

Could I request some 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?! 🤷🏻‍♀️

SAY LESS MY LITTLE JON HAMM LOVER 😏 mr hamm deserves all the love too 😫🔥 give me a couple days and i’ll have this banged out! ✍️

thank you for the request!!

-mari🖤

[nobody7102]

Make It Better

Pairing: Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Alluding to Smut, Alcohol, Switch Beau?, Rank kink

A/N: I had to get this Thot out

Main Master-List

———

Everyone has days where they come home from a really bad day at work, today was that day for Y/N but not the wanna cry bad… no it was the pissed off type of bad. 

She came home from work late, normally she gets home before Beau does but not tonight. When she did get home she walked straight to the kitchen not bothering to set down her bag, take off her jacket or shoes and completely ignore Beau’s greeting. 

Setting the bag on the counter before walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a wine glass before moving to the fridge to grab a bottle of wine. Popping the cork, she poured some into the glass, as she did Beau leaned against the doorway of the kitchen with his arms crossed. Watching as Y/N downed the wine in the glass with one gulp before giving herself another pour. Heavier than before. Pushing off from his spot, Beau comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist just as she takes a sip. 

He rests his head on her shoulder and nuzzles his nose just behind her ear “is there anything I can do to make it better Angel?” Setting the glass down, she tapped her fingers against the counter for a moment before nodding “What can I do?” He hums, pressing a kiss against her neck. 

“Go upstairs, clothes off and sit on the edge of the bed.” She turned her head slightly to him. And Beau nods, pressing one last kiss to her cheek before following the order. 

As soon as Beau was upstairs, Y/N left her bag on the counter, turning back to the entryway of the house, taking her glass with her. She slipped off her shoes and jacket before making her way upstairs as well. As she made her way up, her hand came up to the front of her shirt. Undoing the buttons that held it together before freeing the hem from the waistband of her pants. 

Reaching the bedroom door, she pushed it open, taking another sip of wine as her eyes trailed over Beau and how he rested his hands on his knees, waiting, naked, just as she had instructed. 

Moving over to the dresser she set the wine glass down, back to Beau as she finished taking off her shirt the rest of the way and undoing her pants. Before she realized what was happening, Beau’s hand made its way to her back. Unclipping her bra before letting it fall to the floor and kissing her shoulder. 

Turning her head to the side to catch his lips, she hummed into the kiss before nipping at his lip. “Did I say you could move from the bed Beau?... or that you could touch?” 

“I’m sorry Angel… You looked too pretty not to” he smiled, turning to face him. Y/N placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him down to his knees. 

And he listened, dragging his hands down her frame and along her waist as he went, before pulling her panties down with him. Leaving a kiss on her hip bone when he was fully seated on his haunches.

Stepping out of her panties, she turned away from him. Grabbing her glass, she made her way over to the corner of the room to Beau’s reading chair. 

Settling down into the leather hold of the seat. Y/N took a sip from her glass, motioning Beau over with the curl of her finger. As her legs spread, her eyes followed Beau’s form as he crawled along the floor to her. Stopping in front of her, eye’s trained on her cunt, sat at perfect eye level just inches away from him. 

She leaned forward, taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger with her free hand. She raised his attention back to her. 

“You wanna help” she raised her brow as he nodded. “If I don’t cum at least once before I finish this glass…” she swirled the remainder of her wine “We’re gonna have a lot more problems. Is that understood?” she watched him nod again before using her grip on his chin to shake his head “I need words”

“Understood, Ma’am” 

Leaning back into the chair, she nodded her head “Get to work then Admiral”

-------

Cyclone Enthusiasts(?): @sebsxphia @fanboygarcia @hangmanapologist @rhettabbotts @thesluttyarchivist @t-nd-rfoot @sweetlittlegingy @mothdruid @beachbabey @auroralightsthesky @weakling-grace @basiccortez @wildbornsiren @writercole @hangmanbrainrot @

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

drafting the Don Eppes oneshot of my dreams 😭

[oncasette]

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒…

𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗛𝗔𝗦 𝗜𝗧𝗦 𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗞𝗦…

relationship hc

…𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗘 𝗣𝗜𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧

[krmy2386]

Admirals’ Daughters

Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x Kazansky!Reader

Sorry it took a while! Hard to think up the right idea for Cyclone!

I made up a character to be the Asshole because I couldn’t sacrifice one of the lovable ones (and I named her after a particularly mean teacher I had in high school🤣🤣🤣)

PLEASE DON’T STEAL!!!

Be Kind!😅❤️

Warnings: Age gap(not specified) Iceman’s death, begging, ANGST!

Summary: Reader overhears her boyfriend talking about the reputation of Admirals’ daughters.

✨Whose ready to see our Admiral Simpson beg on his knees???

My dad, Admiral Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, died 2 months ago. It somehow feels like it was just yesterday, and also a lifetime ago. He was a decorated pilot for the navy, a great friend to everyone who knew him, and the best father anyone could ask for.

My dad and I talked about everything. It was hard to keep things from him, so he immediately knew when I started seeing someone new. Thankfully he was patient enough to let me tell him on my own time.

When Beau “Cyclone” Simpson and I finally came clean about our relationship, we had been secretly seeing each other for about 4 months. We met for the first time at a Family Day on base. There had been a small award ceremony for my dad and the other Admirals, Beau included. The day activities were over and I was waiting for my father in his office when Beau came in. He said he saw me that morning and wanted to get to know me more. I thought it was one joke at first. Many pilots have tried over the years with many Admirals’ daughters. But deep down I felt he was different.

Despite the obvious age gap, we actually had a great relationship. Unlike previous boyfriends, Beau treated me like a Princess. Yes he was older, by a fair amount, but I knew he loved me and he would take care of me. Thankfully dad knew that too. He said he didn’t expect this, but was relieved that it was someone established rather than some young-buck just screwing around. We took that as him giving us his blessing.

No one else knew. Beau said he didn’t want anyone on base talking about my family even more than already did. But I suspect he didn’t want to deal with the gossip and other drama that came with being with an Admiral’s daughter. I had heard horror stories from Penny about how they used to talk about her.

I understand his point, but its hard to be okay with someone you love wanting to keep you a secret.

————————————————————————

I try to breath as I sit in my car, preparing to walk in to the base.

When I was little I loved going to the base with my dad. It was so exciting to see all the planes and watch them take off. Even as I got older I just enjoyed spending time with my dad. Now, that place is a grim reminder that my dad is gone.

I told my mom I would pick up the items from his office. Most of the big stuff was already gone, so it was mainly just pictures and plaques left. I knew my mom couldn’t handle it. My “Uncle” Maverick offered but I felt like dad would want me to do it.

I finally got out of the car and walked to the front door. I was greeted by Maverick who walked me to his office. I knew how much my dad meant to him. This was going to be as hard on him as it was on me.

“How are you holding up, kid?” Uncle Mav asked as we got to the office door.

I sighed, “I’m not great, but I’m better than I was.”

Mav chuckled, “I understand. He told me you know?”

“About what?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“You and Cyclone.” He said, and I froze.

“Mav-“ I started to explain, but he interrupted.

“I support you, Y/N. Don’t Get me wrong I don’t always see eye to eye with that man. But your father was actually happy with the relationship.” He smiled, “He made both of us promise to take care of you after he was gone. I trust he will.”

“Thank you! I Love you Uncle Mav!” I hugged him tightly.

“Love you too, kid!” He signed looking at a picture of the two of them.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I made your dad ride my motorbike?” He laughed.

We spent the time in the office telling stories of my dad and reminiscing. It was exactly what my dad would have wanted.

————————————————————————

After about an hour we were done. We were headed to leave when we heard voices outside of the door.

“I hope Y/N will be okay.” Said a female voice I didn’t recognize, “We all know the reputation of Admirals’s daughters.”

They clearly didn’t know I was here. Why were they talking about me?

“Look at Penny. She went wild when her dad died.” The unknown voice said.

I saw Maverick’s face. He looked ready to bust through the door. Maverick reached to thrown open the door but I stopped him. I wanted to hear what they said.

“Y/N will be fine. She’s a strong girl. You two need to mind your business.” Warlock was quick to intervene.

“She’s just staying the obvious, Warlock.” Said a voice Y/N knew quite well. It was Beau.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” unknown added, “maybe she’ll find a healthy coping mechanism for her daddy issues. Unlike Penny.”

At that moment my heart broke.

Maverick saw it in my face. Before I knew it he opened the door.

“Well Y/N, I think that’s everything.” Maverick said loudly, he wanted them to hear and wanted them to feel embarrassed that they were gossiping about us. The two men and the woman all froze at the sound of Maverick’s voice.

“Thanks for your help Mav! I really appreciate it!” I said, still trying to process what happened.

“Hello Y/N, I’m Captain Stanfield, it’s lovely to see you!” She said, clearly thinking she got alway with talking about me.

“Likewise.” I said, I recognized her from the funeral. She had only been here a few months. What right does she have judge if me and Penny?

I glanced at the two men. Warlock just looked at the ground, poor guy was probably terrified. And Beau just stared at me.

“Well, I’m leaving. Best of luck to you all.” I said turning towards the door, trying to leave before my tears actually fell.

“But you’ll be back,” Beau said worried. He quickly caught himself and added, “for Family Days and what not. You know your family is always welcome.” Of course he was hiding us, again. That’s what he was concerned about? That my family shows up to support a program of cocky pilots talking behind people backs? I’ve had it.

I took one step closer to him, and stared into his eyes. In a split second I decided to make them pay for what they said. For me, for Penny, and for all Admirals’ daughters who get trashed talked by grown ass men and women

“No,” I stated clearly. “I never want to see any of you. Ever. Again.” I said, now trying to contain my rage instead of tears. “I will never set foot on this base again.”

Then I turn my attention to Captain Stanfield, “And the next time you want to comment on any Admiral’s daughter remember just how much that Admiral did for you. How much they sacrificed, how much work they did to keep your asses safe. And remember how much pain their family went through when he died.”

As I turned and rushed out of the door I heard Maverick yell, “Ice asked you to do one thing! You fucked it up!”

I practically ran down the hallway crying, clutching the box of my dad’s things before I finally made it to my car.

How could Beau say that? Did he agree with her? Was that why he wanted to keep us a secret?

————————————————————

I dropped the box off at my mom’s house before heading home. It was like I was on auto pilot as I drove. I was in a state of numbness from what happened that day. I had way too many emotions in my head. I decided to get a hot bath in hopes it will wash the crappy feeing off of me.

I sat in the tub with bubbles and a glass of wine. I just started thinking.

Why didn’t Beau want to tell people about me?Was it the age thing? Or the Admiral’s daughter thing? Or was it something else?

As I was sitting in the tub I heard furious knocking on my door. I knew exactly who it was.

“No.” I said out loud to myself. “No. No. No. I am not letting him in.” I knew I needed to stand my ground on this.

After a minute or two the knocking stopped. I was relieved he’d given up so I could have peace. But also slightly offended he quit so quickly.

Then the bathroom door swung open and I screamed.

“Y/N! It’s me!” Beau said trying to calm me down, “you gave me a key remember?”

“Get out!” I hissed at him. I grabbed a towel trying to cover myself while I stood up.

“We need to talk.” He tried to reason.

“I’m in the tub! Does now look like the time I want to talk?” I yelled.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” He said trying to joke.

I glared at him as hard as I could. “Well considering we are no longer together, you no longer get to look. Get out!”

He looked crushed at my words, but he nodded and walked out so I could get dressed.

So much for peace.

————————————————————

I knew he was downstairs. I knew no matter how many times I told him to leave, he wouldn’t. Not until he at least tried to talk things through. I got dressed as slow as I could. I wanted him to suffer a little more.

I finally walked downstairs and saw him sitting in my couch. Head in his hands, and he was crying. Through out our time together I had seen Beau in many different situations, but I honestly had never seen him cry.

“Beau,” I said softly, “you need to leave.”

“No. Not until we fix this.” He said.

I scoffed, “Fix what? My ‘daddy issues’?”

“Princess,” he started, “I’m sorry. I should’ve spoken up. I shouldn’t have let her say that-“

I stopped him there, “What about what you said? You agreed! Do you really think I’m the kind of person to act up when something bad happens? You really don’t know me do you?”

He stood up and stood face to face with me.

“I know everything about you. Your favorite color, your favorite food, your fears, everything! And I know that loosing your father has been the hardest thing you’ve ever dealt with and yes I am worried. I’m worried that I don’t know how to help you though your grief. I’m worried because I couldn’t handle if something happened to you. But no, that doesn’t excuse what happened today. I’m so sorry, Princess.”

I felt my resolve slipping at that nickname. He called me that jokingly the first time we met. He said since my dad was basically the King of Top Gun that I must me the Princess.

“Beau, it’s not just today.” I sighed. “I can’t- I won’t be your secret anymore. I deserve more than that.”

Beau nodded, “I know. I told them.”

I was stunned, “you told them about us?”

“Yes. I told Stanfield, Warlock and Hondo. Maverick said he already knew. I should’ve figured Iceman told him.” He scoffed.

“Yeah. Maverick told me today that he knew” I said remembering how supportive he was.

��I told them that I am in love with you. That you are the best thing that had ever happened to me. And if anyone ever talks about you again I’ll either have their wings taken or their bodies in the ground.” He said seriously.

I looked up at him, “Beau, I don’t know if-“

He immediately fell to his knees in-front of me.

“Please! Please forgive me! I can’t lose you!” He said desperately.

He grabbed me and pulled me into him, hurrying his head into my stomach. “I’ll do anything just please forgive me!”

I thought back to what was said. I know he is concerned and I know I can for give him. But there is one thing all of them need to do.

“I forgive you Beau.” I said and his head shot you to look at me, “There is one condition.”

“Anything!” He said fully prepared to do whatever it takes.

“Penny deserves an apology. She’s had enough crappy things happen to her, she doesn’t need anymore rude pilots trying to get a laugh at her expense.” I said.

He nodded quickly, “Done! We’ll go first thing tomorrow!” He said standing up and pulling me in to a kiss.

When he kissed me it felt like all the breath was taken from my body. When we pulled apart he hugged me and let out a huge sigh of relief.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he started, “Maverick threatened to have Phoenix beat up Stanfield.”

I laughed, “He needs to be careful. My dad isn’t there to get him out of trouble anymore.”

“No, but I am,” Beau said, “Your dad made me promise to look out for you both. He knew I loved you and he wanted you to be happy. But he was very much concerned with Maverick getting himself killed.”

We both laughed. I knew Beau would fulfill his promise to my dad.

Both of them.

Thank you for the encouragement❤️❤️❤️

@bubblesmaketheworldgoround-blog @b-bradshaw @t-rexs @quentinfiletmignon @boringusername3 @bbooks-and-teas @abditory-writes @mys2425 @k-6196 @superioraxolotl @disneylaanddicaprio @jedi-issue-scopes @svndancekidd @rosiahills22 @timbradfordsboot

[lieutenantfloyd]

@noirrose21-blog asked: Could u do more Jon Hamm x reader?

Absolutely! Is there any in particular you’d like to read?