#pete maverick mitchell x f!reader

[callsignthirsty]

Listen: cyclone and you have been dating forever but everytime he comes home ranting about Pete Mitchell and his idiotic decisions you can’t help but wonder what other idiotic decisions he would make in the bedroom. And because Beau what’s everything for his girl - he’s willing it make it happen.

Hey Sunny — Okay. So. The sailor sandwich fic. It’s finally here. I hope it’s everything your thirsty little heart wanted ❤️

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x F!Reader x Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Word Count: 6000 Warnings: Smut, possessive Cyclone, Mav following the rules, then Mav breaking the rules, piv with and without a condom (wrap it before you tap it!) Minors DNI

Sailor Sandwich

Iceman would be rolling over in his grave laughing if he knew, but Cyclone really hopes he doesn't. This is Ice's fault, anyway — bringing Maverick back to North Island when they both knew he was a shitty teacher the first time.

He'd hoped some tension would've eased once the mission was flown. That hope, however, had been quickly dashed. It wasn't anything against Maverick personally until it very suddenly was. Because Pete "Maverick" Mitchell was everything Iceman had promised he'd be, but in all the worst ways. And he hadn't strictly kept those thoughts to himself.

Cyclone has been complaining about Admiral Kazansky's pet pilot for weeks, and you have been there to listen every night when he gets home. Warlock should send you flowers because Cyclone knows that the Rear Admiral can only take so much, and he seems to have worked with Mitchell before.

And Jesus, Cyclone is getting a headache just thinking about this getting out to Warlock. Because Cyclone, to put it in the simplest terms, doesn't want this. But he hadn't been able to say 'no.'

The problem began where most of Cyclone's do: when he makes a very stupid, very avoidable mistake. The particular day's infraction? He forgot his lunch at home. And you — his darling girlfriend, love of his life, and perfect angel who has never done anything wrong, ever — decided to bring it to him. Typically, this would lead to a pleasant lunch in his office, a sweet kiss, and Cyclone would return to his day with a rare smile.

But, well, Maverick.

Now, Cyclone doesn't believe that Maverick knew you were his girl when he started hitting on you. Even Mitchell had a moral compass. And frankly, Cyclone can't blame him — except that he can and he absolutely will. Because when Cyclone arrives on the scene, Maverick is laying it on thick and has you practically wrapped around his little finger.

It had been an awkward night, to say the least, but Cyclone couldn't bring himself to deny you anything. Especially not when you asked so pretty and gave him that look. Which is precisely how he'd ended up booking three consecutive rooms at the Grand Hyatt with you sitting on the bed and Maverick knocking on the door.

Cyclone moves to stand between you and Maverick when the door shuts. "If we're going to do this–" and god help him because you were "–there are going to be rules." Maverick looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but he resists. Whether because he knows it's childish or for Cyclone's benefit is up for debate, and Cyclone chooses to focus his glare on him. "Number one: if she says 'stop' for any reason, you stop." Maverick nods. "Number two: You want to touch my girl–"

Without missing a beat, Maverick shoots you a cocky wink. "I think we can all agree that I'm here because she wants me to touch her."

"–you will do exactly as I say. No veering off-script."

"Should I submit my requests in writing, Admiral?"

Cyclone chooses to ignore him. "Number three: no kissing."

"At all?"

"C'mon, Beau," you say from your spot at the edge of the bed. "He's got to kiss me a little bit."

"Yeah, Beau."

"If you kiss her lips, you're done," Cyclone practically growls. There's no room for argument. No bargaining his way into more. Give Maverick an inch, and he'll steal a multimillion-dollar jet.

"Fine," Maverick agrees.

"And no marks."

"That rule number four?"

"No. It's a non-negotiable part of rule three."

"Hey." You stand from the bed, cup your boyfriend's cheek and give him a sweet kiss that's meant to calm, but Cyclone remains stiff as a board. "We won't do anything you aren't comfortable with."

Cyclone hesitates, and you clock the reaction just like you pin a name to the emotion swimming in green eyes: unease. Instead of telling you that he isn't comfortable with any of this, that you're his and he doesn't want to share, he says: "That's why we have rules."

Your eyes follow your boyfriend's as they once again land on Maverick, who is trying to act casual. Brushing your thumb over his cheekbone, you bring Beau's attention back to you. "Don't think about anyone else." Easier said than done, you know, so when he opens his mouth to object, you cut him off with a gentle "It's just you and me right now" as your eyes drift to linger on his lips. "Just do what you'd normally do."

And that sounds a little too much like the don't think, just do that Cyclone keeps hearing over the comms, but then your hands are in his regulation short hair, and you've tipped onto your toes for a kiss. Getting lost in your kiss is practically second nature at this point. Cyclone lets his mind go blank, hands that know your body better than his own landing on your lower back and gently pulling you in. He tilts his head to the side and slots his lips against your own, feeling the way that your smile curls and your breaths quicken.

And Maverick is being so uncharacteristically quiet that it's easy to forget that he's in the room. Until he clears his throat, and the illusion is shattered.

You eye Maverick, intrigued. From the way that Cyclone's hands clench, you hazard that his look is far more irritated. Maverick, though, looks hungry. Eyes rake over you, vintage bomber jacket hugging him in all the right ways, aviators tugging down the collar of his t-shirt. Just as you think that you wouldn't mind Mav having a taste, Cyclone lets you go. Your eyes follow him as he sits at the standard-issue desk near the foot of the bed.

"Permission to engage?" It's sarcastic but not unkind. You roll your eyes anyway.

Cyclone must be surprised, but the only thing that gives it away is the rise of a single brow. "Permission granted."

Maverick crosses the no man's land between the threshold and the bed in three quick steps, then he's all up in your space. And he's so different from your boyfriend, a mechanic-rough hand cupping the curve of your jaw and drawing you close enough that you're worried he's about to break a rule right off the bat — after all, Maverick isn't known to be a rule follower. He stops just short of your lips but breathing in your air. "Normally, this is the part where I'd kiss you," he husks, and you gulp because you definitely want him to. "But I think I'll see how far playing by the rules gets me."

Chapped lips brush over your cheek, down to your jaw, and you sigh. You moan at the light scrape of teeth as he trails down your neck to your collarbone, lips taking your skin with gentle pressure.

"Mitchell." A warning.

Maverick releases your collarbone with a wet noise. "No marks." He steps away from you and tips your jaw up so Cyclone can rake his eyes over you to assess any perceived damages. Anything that can be left behind. All the while, your skin grows cold where Maverick's spit lingers, the disappearance of his body heat leaving you chilled. When he gets a nod to continue, Maverick takes you by surprise. You fall onto the bed with a surprised squawk, bouncing on the mattress.

"Rule number 2," Cyclone snaps.

"I do what you say."

"Did I tell you to push her onto the bed?"

"No."

Cyclone's fingers steeple the way they usually do when he's agitated. "So what were you doing?"

Maverick's green eyes lock with yours, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. "Can't kiss her lips, so I was going to get my mouth on something else." You moan, a thrill racing up your spine and thighs clamping together to relieve some of the pressure that's building up there.

Cyclone's eyes harden, and he leans forward in his seat. "Exactly as I say. Are we clear?" Maverick nods. "Take off her shirt." Maverick shrugs out of his bomber, letting it crumple to the floor as he pushes your shirt up until it bunches in your armpits. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" Cyclone asks, but he doesn't expect a response. He knows you're beautiful. Maverick knows you're beautiful — that's what started this whole mess.

Maverick dips down like he wants to put his lips on all of your freshly revealed skin. "Can I–"

"No," Cyclone cuts him off. "Take off her shirt." Maverick pouts but complies. He lifts the shirt over your head with a bit of help from you, and now you can feel where he's beginning to fill out his jeans. "Now, her bra."

A single hand reaches around your back, and you feel your bra come undone. Maverick looks up at Cyclone, his hands carefully avoiding you though you can feel the heat radiating off him. Can feel his need to touch. "What now?"

"Touch her."

Maverick doesn't need to be told twice. His hands are on you. Running up and down your sides, thumbing over your nipples until they pebble, pressing kisses right above the waist of your jeans. You sigh into each new caress. Then his hands move further down, kneading at your jean-clad thighs and scratching at the sturdy cotton twill until you shiver at the faux-cool sensation.

He's propelled up at your gasp, lips finding their way up to your nipple as his hips settle against yours, and the friction of jean-on-jean lights your clit aflame.

"Pants." The instruction gives Maverick pause. He bites his lip like you wish you could.

"Hers or mine?"

Cyclone's lips twitch like he's pleased that Maverick asks. Like the simple question proves that Maverick is actually going to play nice, for once. Like he's the slightest bit reassured. "Hers." And when Maverick's fingers first brush embossed metal: "Slowly."

Going slow is as much torture for you as it is for Maverick, but he's staying true to his word and seeing how far following orders will get him. He plays with the pull of your zipper before dragging it down one tooth at a time. You bridge your hips to help him kick your pants onto the floor. Your panties, however, remain because Cyclone hadn't said anything about them one way or the other. They're cute, lace trimmed and delicate but nothing special; you don't want your boyfriend thinking that you've dressed up for the occasion. Special or not, Maverick appreciates them if his groan is anything to go by.

His head thunks against your hip bone. "What about her panties?"

"Leave them." So the lace stays. Clinging to your hips. Then Maverick looks up at you from between your legs, his eyes tracing from your lips (still red and puffy from Cyclone's kiss) down to the fabric stained dark at the apex of your thighs. He licks his lips as his stubbled cheek nuzzles against the inside of your knee. Calloused hands run up and down the outside of your legs.

"Aw, sweetheart," Maverick purrs. "Already so wet." You spread your legs shamelessly, not the slightest bit self-conscious about how Maverick and your boyfriend are both still wearing their clothes.

"Don't touch," Cyclone says when Maverick reaches up toward your core. Instead of taking it back, Maverick lets his hand hang there for a second like he's thinking about touching anyway. But then Maverick brings it down on your leg, massaging circles into the sensitive flesh of your upper thigh with his thumb to keep himself from doing anything reckless. "Make her feel good, but don't touch her pussy."

Maverick stands back to take his shirt off, undoes and takes off his belt but doesn't reach for the button or zipper as he toes off his shoes. Then he's between your thighs, fingers roaming up to play with the flimsy fabric of your panties and tickle high up on your thighs, but never coming close to scratching your itch. Lips and tongue tracing up from your knee almost to the seat of your panties and drawing in a deep breath, his heady groan sending little waves of pleasure straight to your pulsing cunt.

"What do you know," Cyclone muses after some time of watching Maverick flawlessly follow his orders, "you can teach an old dog new tricks." You aren't entirely sure whether or not Maverick heard him. Regardless, his head stays buried between your thighs, kissing and licking just shy of soaked lace and breathing in deep, a hand coming down to palm himself.

"Beau." His name is a whine on your lips as Maverick continues to rub the inside of your thighs raw on his cheeks while dutifully avoiding what you need the most.

"What, baby?"

You arch your back, trying to shove your hips closer to Maverick's roaming tongue, but to no avail. "Please."

"Please, what?"

"Let him touch me."

"He is touching you." And there's no way to hide all of the disdain that leaks into the simple fact as he glares at Maverick hunched between your thighs. But he relents. "Mitchell." Maverick sits up to look at Cyclone, his lips pink and breathing the slightest bit sped up. "I believe you said something about putting that mouth to work."

Maverick swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. "I did."

"Well," Cyclone gestures to the bed, to you, "get to it, then."

Maverick doesn't waste a second taking your underwear off, just thumbs it to the side and dives right in. You both groan from the first touch of Maverick's tongue to your slick folds. "Taste so good, sweetheart," he rumbles. Another desperate noise slips past your lips at the praise, your back bowing at the sudden, electric touch after so much teasing.

And Maverick is ravenous. You can feel it in the way his hands press your legs up and further apart so that he can sink his tongue further into your pussy, lick at your walls, and moan as his lashes flutter. The way his nose nudges against your clit until you're rolling against his lips with your head tossed back and hair spilled across the pillows. "That's it," he husks as you grind against his face, loving the dichotomy of smooth tongue and rough cheeks. You're on the cusp, your cunt buzzing with each new touch, but you need more. "Don't worry, sweetheart," Maverick murmurs, a hand releasing your hip and trailing down until a thick finger prods at your entrance and presses in, "I've gotcha." And he does because that's it. That's perfect. You press into his finger and his mouth, see the light at the end of the tunnel and feel your walls begin to squeeze down around him and–

"That's enough."

With a reluctant groan, Maverick releases you. He turns to say something but is hit with a box of assorted condoms. "Oh," Maverick says, looking at the box like he isn't entirely sure what he's expected to do with it. Like, aren't we a little old for this? He tries to return the box to Cyclone. "I'm clean."

"That is so not the point." There is abso-fucking-lutely no way in hell that Cyclone will let Maverick raw-dog his girlfriend.

Breaking the seal on the box, Maverick cards through the condoms. He kicks the rest of his clothes off as he rips one of the foils open and rolls it onto himself, spitting into his palm to slick over the latex and give himself a little relief. And you can't help but stare as the rest of him is revealed to you: all golden skin and well-hewn muscle from years in the cockpit. And for a small guy, he sure had a big cock.

"How are we doing this?" Forest green eyes are on you, but the question is undoubtedly for Cyclone — he's the one running the show.

"On her hands and knees," Cyclone says with certainty as if he'd already thought about it — about how missionary was too intimate and spooning was too soft. "I want her to look at me while you fuck her." Maverick rearranges you until you're on your knees. Bent over the bed, resting on your forearms with your ass in the air.

You can't help but look at Maverick over your shoulder, giving your ass a cheeky shake when you catch him staring, but Cyclone brings your attention back to himself with a gentle command — always so gentle with you. "Eyes on me, darling."

Then, he's giving Maverick the okay.

If given the time, you'd be able to go on and on about how Maverick's hands fit on your hips. But you're not. Maverick gives you a split second, then he's slowly sinking into you, and your mind blanks. "Fuck, sweets," he groans through gritted teeth. "So fucking tight 'n hot. No wonder Cyclone wanted to keep you all to himself." You moan helplessly at the stretch and his praise, eyes threatening to close as you fight to keep them locked on Beau. You aren't sure if you're burning from the desire or the shame of how much you like Maverick fucking into you while Beau watches, has been watching this whole time.

Eventually, Maverick's hips press snug to your ass. You can't help that your thighs quiver at the stretch, and your walls clench around him in sweet anticipation.

"Wait," Cyclone commands from his throne.

"Yeah," Maverick says, but it sounds like it's been punched out of him. Like he's a little breathless. Like you have as much of an effect on him as he has on you. "That's not going to be a problem." You clench down on him again — on purpose this time, just to be cheeky — and delight in the shiver that runs up Mav's legs.

Maverick leans down to kiss your shoulder, only to back away when Cyclone shoots him a look. His hands shift uncertainly at your sides, petting you and rubbing reassurances into your skin, fingers following his eyes to where you're joined and running a finger over your stretched pussy lips. Slowly, you begin to relax beneath him, Cyclone's eyes no longer boring into Maverick's and, instead, lingering on your face. And it's without looking at him that Cyclone finally gives Maverick permission for takeoff.

Except, Maverick still isn't really in control.

Yes, Maverick is inside of you. Stretching and filling you deliciously, but Cyclone is the one to set the pace. A slow in-and-out that serves to wind you both up more than it does satisfy the want that's been building in your loins. The odds were always stacked against him from the beginning. Maverick was bound to break eventually. And he does, spectacularly, when you shove against him with a high-pitched keen.

Sunkissed hips cant back, strong hands pulling you into the next thrust, each faster and firmer than the last. Maverick leans down, delivering a nip to the base of your neck that stings delectably. You rock with the motion of it, lips falling open as Maverick gets a couple glorious thrusts in that make your eyes roll before Cyclone seizes the reins once more.

"Mitchell." It's nearly a shout. Cyclone's hands white-knuckle the arms of the desk chair. Maverick's hips stutter to a stop as he gets ahold of himself.

You whimper beneath Maverick. You want to push back against him, desperate for stimulation. For someone to fuck you, to fill you. But, something in the clench of Cyclone's jaw tells you it's best to stay still.

"Since you can't do what you're told…." You watch, thighs trembling as Cyclone reaches down. You hadn't noticed the bag sitting in the shadow of the desk, but he's tossing something onto the bed. Cool metal lands on downy sheets. "Lie down," Cyclone directs at Maverick. His tone leaves no room for argument. "Hands above your head." You're not surprised when Maverick doesn't move and Cyclone's eyes simply shift to you. "Cuff him to the headboard."

"Wait," Maverick says, slipping from your warmth to sit on his heels as you take the cuffs in hand. "You're serious?"

"Rule number two," Cyclone recites, "you want to touch my girl, you do exactly as I say. What part of that didn't you understand, Captain?"

"The part where–"

"Because I think I was pretty clear."

"Is this another one of those laws as immutable as gravity?"

The muscle in Cyclone's jaw ticks. "Cuffs or leave. Your choice." Beau may be a pushover when it comes to you, but Cyclone isn't known to bluff. You watch the two of them with rapt curiosity and a growing discomfort as the tension builds to fill the room. Finally, Maverick caves and flops back onto the bed. When you turn to look, his hands are above his head.

You take the key from Cyclone's outstretched hand, then crawl up the bed to work the metal tight around Maverick's wrist before looping it around the corner beam of the sturdy wooden headboard and securing the second cuff. It doesn't look comfortable, but you can imagine that Maverick has been in tighter spots. Honestly, you're a little disappointed that the cuffs haven't been used on you, but there will be time for that later.

For the first time since he took his seat at the desk, Cyclone moves. He settles on the other side of the bed, leaning against the headboard so he can see your face, but he's purposely avoiding looking at Maverick. "Do you think you can ride him?" he asks. You nod with a pitiful noise, your cunt clenching around nothing and feeling empty just at the thought. "Alright." He nods for you to get to it.

You straddle Maverick's lap, run your hands up his chest and scrape your nails down, down, down until he's arching into the pain. Then, you line him up and sink onto him with a satisfied groan, head thrown back as your ass rests on his thighs. You grind against him for a minute, getting used to being on top and a feel for his cock so much deeper inside of you; then you rise up and let gravity bring you crashing down. Maverick moans, his cheeks flushing pink and mouth hanging open as you work up to a fast pace. Much faster than Cyclone had allowed your first time around. "Jesus– fuck," he curses. "Look so good bouncing on my cock, sweetheart."

More praise tumbles from his lips, and just when you can feel your orgasm growing low in your belly, hands grip your hips. You stutter out of sync.

When has Cyclone moved from the headboard?

Maverick's eyes blink open and settle curiously over your shoulder as Cyclone guides your hips in a much slower rhythm, one that has you whining in protest. This isn't nearly enough, but Cyclone knows that, and it's all that he'll let you have. "There you go, baby," he murmurs against the shell of your ear, and you wish he'd lick it, but he doesn't. "Nice and slow. Can you do that for me?"

You nod, gulping. Sure, you want Maverick, but you'll always want to be good for Beau. Even though everything in you screams to go fast, to chase that glorious high, you force yourself to move to the beat of Cyclone's drum, jolting each time Maverick strikes that spot inside of you that makes you see stars but knowing that you're not allowed to chase that feeling.

Cyclone's hands return to your hips more than once to slow you back down as you subconsciously begin to speed up.

"Beau," you whimper.

"What, baby?"

"I wanna cum." You can feel it simmering low in your gut, but it's still too far away. Too far out of your grasp. "I can't–"

"I know." He leans in and takes your earlobe between his teeth, and a shiver races up your spine. "'Cause only I can make you cum."

"But I need–"

Cyclone brushes your hair back so he can press a gentle kiss to the skin where your neck meets your jaw. "If you want to cum, it'll be on my dick. My tongue. My hand. Not his," he spits out the last bit without sparing Maverick so much as a glance.

Maverick opens his mouth to say something clever–

"If you want to cum, I suggest you keep it to yourself."

–and closes it with an impudent glare, but the effect is ruined by his exertion-pink cheeks and the clench of his jaw each time you take him to the root. Then, the next time you try to drop onto Maverick's cock, Cyclone's hands stop you. You look over your shoulder with a question on your lips, but his eyes are on Maverick.

"Fuck her."

Maverick doesn't. From the corner of your eye, you can see that he's just as confused as you. "What?"

"You heard me," Cyclone says, his hands increasing their grip on you until you're sure there will be bruises in the morning. "That's what you wanted, right?" And his tone is mean, but his words are true.

Maverick shifts beneath you to plant his feet against the pillowtop mattress and thrusts up. Gently at first. As if he's testing that Cyclone really means it, really wants him to fuck you. But Cyclone just holds you steadily above him. Then, because Cyclone has let him have full rein or because Maverick's a little too far gone to care, he lets out a needy moan and picks up a fast and dirty pace.

Your back arches, nails digging into Maverick's chest. "He's getting close, isn't he, baby?" Cyclone says, his forehead pressed to your sweat-slick temple as he holds you at just the right height for Maverick to hammer into you. Lets the Captain use you to chase his own pleasure.

"Don't talk about me," Maverick pants, "as if I'm not here."

But Cyclone ignores him. "You can feel it, can't you?" he continues in your ear. "How badly he wants to cum." Your thighs jiggle as Maverick increases his speed, his cock finding your sweet spot and slamming into it over and over until you're practically howling. "What do you want?"

You don't even have to think about it. Don't have the brainpower to think of much else right now. "Wanna cum."

"Not now," Cyclone snaps. "Not with him. He's just a pretty tool, baby. What do you want?" All that comes out the next time you open your mouth is a strung-out mewl. "Want Mitchell to cum so I can fuck you?"

"Yes," you hiss, clenching around Maverick's cock at Cyclone's words.

"Fuck!"

"Ask him nicely," Cyclone murmurs, his eyes sharp as he catches the hand that darts toward your clit.

"Mav, fuck. Cum for me. Please, please, please."

That's all it takes for Maverick to lose it. His thrusts grow sloppy, the cuffs rattling against the headboard as he flexes his arms and arches into you as he finally breaks, filling the condom with a strangled groan. His eyes closed and head thrown back as his hips stutter to a stop. He's oversensitive, jerking as your hips follow his to the bed.

Usually, you'd be more sympathetic, but Maverick had gotten off, and you still haven't.

He'd gotten you so close at the end, his hips pistoning into yours, pressing against your sweet spot each time, and then… nothing. Cyclone hadn't let you finish yourself off.

You don't have too much time to dwell on it.

Cyclone's grip on your hips changes. Maverick hisses as Cyclone snatches you off his sensitive, softening cock and bends you over so that your face is stuffed into Maverick's tits. Cyclone wastes no time ripping off his belt and pushing his slacks down far enough to get his dick out. Then, he's rutting into you with a sharp thrust that has you keening.

Maverick gasps and tries to jerk away, but you're pressed tight to him. Your middle rubbing against his overstimulated cock as Cyclone sets a brutal pace. One hand fisted in your hair and pulling back so your moans aren't caught against Maverick's chest. "Yeah, baby? That good?"

"Yes."

"Tell him." The hand releases your hair and instead presses down on your neck until your cheek is pressed into Maverick's chest as Cyclone's hips snap into yours. "Tell him how good I make you feel."

You do what you can to look up at Maverick with Cyclone's hand burning against the back of your neck. "'S so good. Fuck!" Cyclone smacks your ass with his free hand, and that's harder than he usually plays with you.

"Come on, darling. You can do better than that," he goads. Jaw clenched. Eyes sharp.

"Beau!" Your eyes are glassy as they meet Maverick's. "Fuck. So good."

"Looks like I've fucked the words out of her," Cyclone says, smug. "What's your excuse?"

Maverick doesn't have anything to say, possibly for the first time in his life. Brows bunching and drawing down to wrinkle his nose. His dick wasn't ready for this. For your face shoved into his chest. Moaning so sweetly in his face but just out of reach. If only he were younger, but he isn't — and though his dick twitches in a valiant effort to get hard again way too soon, everything about his current situation is too much.

Cyclone startles when you jerk away from a particularly rough thrust with a soft cry, your head turning to peek at him over your shoulder, tears collecting in the corner of your eyes. And he realizes that he's been gripping your hips way too hard, little half-moons marking the spots where his short nails had dug into your soft skin. What had he let himself slip into?

Beau pulls back gently and gathers you in his arms as he picks you up off Maverick and lays you down atop the cool sheets on the other side of the bed. On your back, this time, as he wipes away the tears that still threaten to fall from your lashes. He presses slow kisses into each angry mark framing your hips, then up to your neck. When his lips finally find yours, it's soft. The kiss tastes like love and an apology, and you can't help but melt into it as your fingers trace up Beau's arms and around his shoulders.

He stays poised over you, massaging your thighs and only abandoning his gentle kisses to pull his shirt over his head and kick off his slacks. Then, he asks if you're ready and, at your nod, pushes into you gently, capturing your lower lip between his own as you gasp. He knows that you're close — he's kept you there all night — but he lowers himself on top of you until your chests are pressed together, and you're sharing the same breath through your noses, lips brushing together and your heel tracing a line up the back of his leg.

Once he's dizzy from breathing you in and your heart flutters against his ribs, he moves. Your head tips back, so he mouths at your jaw, lets himself taste the salt on your skin, feels the breath as it escapes your lungs in a silent plea, and you tremble in his arms. He's kept you on the cusp for too long; he knows that. You're not going to last long, but that's okay. He doesn't need you to. He just needs you.

"Tell me what you need, princess." His earlier questions were bitten out, but this one washes over you like silk. Wraps around you and draws you further under his spell. Your head lolls, turns to the side, but before you can catch Maverick's eyes — which isn't your intent — Beau is turning you back to him with gentle fingers on your chin. "Eyes on me." He kisses your forehead. "I've got you."

You whimper. Needy and in love and so very far gone for this man who would give you the world if you asked. "Beau."

"I know." He licks at the corner of your lips, follows it up with a small kiss. "What do you need, baby?"

You need to cum, but you don't know how to put it into words, your thoughts loose and your tongue looser. So you settle on: "Please."

"Shh," Beau soothes. "I know what you need." He presses one last kiss to your lips before pushing up onto his forearms. "I'll take care of you." You mewl when he rolls his hips into the cradle of yours, still gentle but firm. Confident and caring and perfect. Moves like Maverick isn't in the room. Isn't still on the bed with his wrists bound and cock spent.

Your fingers scramble for purchase along Beau's back, nails pinching as you attempt to drag him in for another kiss, but he resists so he can look at your face. The way your heavy lids threaten to close as pleasure takes you and your lips twitch and your brows crinkle. "So good for me," Cyclone whispers like it's a secret he's letting you in on, and you shudder, goosebumps rising along your arms, nipples taught and tingling where he brushes against them with each sway of your bodies.

You reach your peak with Beau's name on your lips and he doesn't last much longer, pressing your mouths together with a grunt as he shudders through his own high.

You're still catching your breath, limbs pleasantly fuzzy, when Maverick speaks up to let you both know that he's losing feeling in his fingers. In response, Cyclone kisses your cheek and suggests that you go and get a shower started in your room. "I'll be there soon," he assures you as you grab your clothes and disappear through the door that adjoins this room to the room you and Beau will be sleeping in, careful to leave the door ajar for him.

You've just stepped beneath the spray when you hear the heavy adjoining door shut, followed by the rattle of the chain lock. Then, cold air rushes in to replace the steam that the bathroom door yawns away, and Beau joins you. He gathers you in his arms and hugs you close, your back to his front, and you relax into him. Together, you stand under the warm spray, unmoving until Beau squeezes some of the hotel's expensive shampoo into his palm and begins working it into your hair. It lathers as he runs his fingers over your scalp in a gentle massage that never fails to lull you into a half-sleep. Floating somewhere high and loved and not entirely in your own body. Once he's done, he slowly turns you, tips your head into the spray to get rid of the suds, then goes through the same process with the conditioner before he grabs a soft washcloth and runs it over you gently.

Before he can wrap his hands around you, you turn to hug him, your face pillowed against his collarbone and over his steadily beating heart. "You know I love you, right?" Because this shower isn't for you, it's reassurance. It's for Beau. He hesitates before bringing one of his arms to wrap around your shoulders, the other hanging low, weighed down by the wet washcloth as water cascades over you both.

You try to gather all your love for him and put it into your eyes. Because you need Beau to know that Maverick was fun, but he — Beau — is it for you.

"I know," he says softly, but it echoes off the tile anyway.

"And nothing will ever change that."

The kiss on your forehead feels like thank you as Beau hugs you the slightest bit tighter. Holding you close until your skin begins to prune.

That night, you fall asleep in the middle of a movie, Beau's shirt falling off your shoulder as you curl further into him beneath the luxurious hotel linens and draped in his love.

Maverick is the furthest thing from your mind.

[callsignmayhem]

Memories

Realizing that he has very slim chance of making it back, he says over the comms:

“Tell them I love them”

As soon as those words leave his lips, his jet disappears from the radar.

At his funeral, you are standing next to your kids, watching people come and go from his casket.

You hear someone clear their throat behind you, making you turn around.

It's Rooster.

Benjamin guides his siblings further away, giving you and him some privacy.

You give him a small smile.

He gives you a flash drive, you take it, looking up at Bradley.

“It's recording from the mission”

You nod, looking at the small drive in your hands.

“I know it doesn't bring him back but thought you still might want it”

“Thank you”

Bradley nods, squeezing your arm and walking away.

Later when you are home and the kids are in their rooms already for the night, you quietly go up the stairs to your bedroom.

Your bedroom.

Not his and yours like it should be.

Yours.

The thought alone breaks your heart all over again as if it hasn't been broken enough already.

Somehow you get the willpower to step over the threshold of the room. Shutting the door behind you, you flip on the small light on top of the drawer left of you.

Taking in the room, tears start running down your cheeks again.

Alarm clock beeping in the morning, arm reaching over you to make the sound to stop. A kiss placed on your temple.

“Sorry, honey”

You crack open one eye, looking at your husband getting up from the bed, going around the room, looking for his clothes. You hear the shower starting to run before sleep overtakes you. A while later, you feel light kisses placed all over your face.

“Sweetheart, you gotta get up”

“Five more minutes” you say and turn around in bed.

Jake's having none of that, pulling the covers down, attacking you with kisses.

You scream and laugh, trying to get away from his kiss attack.

“Are you gonna get up now?”

“Fine, fine, I'll get up”

Jake smirks as you lift yourself up from the bed, wandering down to the en-suite bathroom.

By the time you are done getting ready for the day, Jake has disappeared from the room. Stepping into the hallway, you hear laughter and delighted screams coming down from the kitchen.

Heading towards the sounds, you stop at the kitchen door, taking in the sight before you. Benjamin is making himself cereal, Cade is eating pieces of toast, Eden is being held upside down by Jake.

You smile, walking into the kitchen.

You ruffle Cade's hair as you go past him, knowing how much it irritates him. Benjamin kisses your cheek as you walk by him.

You grab two mugs from the drying rack, pouring coffee into them. Taking a sip from your mug, you go over to Jake and Eden, giving the other mug to him, which he gratefully takes, you tickle Eden's belly. She giggles, continuing to munch on her toast.

Soon you are all in the hallway, more or less good to go.

Jake says bye to the kids first, then to you with a kiss to your lips.

All five of you manage to get out of the front door, Jake in his car, you and the kids in yours.

Jake backs out of the driveway first, waving at you before driving off. You follow, turning your car in a different direction to get the kids to school on time.

After you've dropped them off, you go run some errands.

After the drive home, you place down the groceries on the counter.

You've put the last food in the fridge when your phone buzzes in your back pocket. Fishing it out, you press the green button.

“Hello?”

You go over the bed, grabbing your laptop from the side table. Sitting on the bed, you plug in the flash drive and press play.

Listening to the recording, listening to his voice, makes your heart ache, ultimately cracking it in half when you hear his last words before his comms crackle and go dead. You hear the others begging for him to answer, to make any sound at all.

They get nothing.

You hear the command to land followed with multiple voices protesting, but the voice again commands them to land.

The recording goes on for a while after the command but no one is saying anything.

You stop the recording.

Unplugging the drive, you place it and the laptop down on the side table.

His last words echo over and over again in your mind.

“Tell them I love them”

“Tell them I love them”

“Tell them I love them”

You cried yourself to sleep that night and countless nights after that, dreams filled with memories of him. Thinking about how you never even had a chance to say goodbye.

None of you did get that chance.

Part 1 (kisses on fingertips)

The letter

The first bit written in italics is what happened during the funeral (read kisses on fingertips) and the second part in italics is what happened before the call, all the way til the call comes to answering it.

This is like a prequel/sequel/continuation to "Kisses on fingertips" because there are things happening before, during and after it, I think.

Benjamin is 17 years old, Cade 14 years old and Eden is 6 years old when they lost their dad.

If anything is unclear, just ask and I'll try my best to explain.

[lovelybucky1]

Kinktober Day 22- Cheating

warnings: AFAB!reader, cheating, alcohol consumption, mentions of semi-public sex, mentions of f!receiving oral sex, 18+ minors dni

kinktober masterlist

main masterlist

Abandoned by your boyfriend at the bar, you sit alone, nursing a warming beer. You want desperately to go home, but he was your ride and he would never let you drive his car.

You’re bored, tired, and feeling rejected as your boyfriend talks to a crowd of women. You haven’t been on the same page recently, as as hard as you try to fix it, nothing seems to be working. You sigh into your bottle, and just as you’re about to take a sip, you notice someone slide onto the stool next to you.

“Need some company?” a deep voice asks.

You look over and see a man, significantly older than you but attractive and in good shape.

“I’m here with my boyfriend,” you reply. 

“Then where is he?” You gesture to your boyfriend with your chin and the man hums. “Why’d he leave you here by yourself?”

You shrug. “He wanted a fun night with his friends, but I don’t see how this is any of your business.”

“I’m just wondering what kind of man would leave a beautiful woman all by herself at a Navy bar. He should know what kind of crowd hangs around here.”

You can’t help but wonder. “What kind of crowd?”

“Pilots,” he says with a small smirk.

Only now do you notice the aviator sunglasses hanging from the collar of his white t-shirt, and the patches that litter his brown leather jacket.

“I’m Captain Pete Mitchell, but you can call me Maverick,” he grins.

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

“It usually works,” he says, not faltering. “What’s your name?”

You tell him and he makes a cheesy comment on how it suits you. You roll your eyes before taking a sip of beer, and you cringe at the taste.

“Can I buy you a drink? Something better than that piss your boyfriend thought you’d like.”

You consider his offer. It’s just one drink… one drink is okay.

“Cosmopolitan,” you say, making Maverick chuckle.

The bartender, who Maverick seems to know, brought over your drink and gave you a knowing wink.

You sip your drink and Maverick watches, his eyes locked on your lip over the rim of your glass. You know it’s wrong, but his gaze makes you feel flustered.

“Tell me to back off and I will, but I’m getting the feeling you’re not exactly on good terms with your boyfriend.”

You sigh, figuring if Maverick is willing to listen, there’s no harm in talking.

“He’s just… difficult. We have some problems but he never wants to talk about them. He’d rather come to a bar and get drunk with his friends and-” You look up and see your boyfriend dancing on a woman who looks nothing like you.

Your stomach drops, and Maverick follows your eye line. “Oh, sweetheart…” he says quietly.

After the initial shock wore off, the anger started to bubble up inside you. How dare that asshole drag you to this bar that you didn’t want to go to in the first place, abandon you to have fun with his friends who don’t like you, and grind on some woman right in front of you. You down the rest of your drink and turn towards Maverick.

“You said there’s pilots here, right?” He nods hesitantly. “You know of any who are looking for company tonight?”

You know it’s childish, unhealthy, and it makes you just as bad as your boyfriend, but you can’t bring yourself to care right now.

Maverick raises his eyebrows and fights back a smirk. “I might know someone.”

You slide off your stool and grab Maverick’s hand. You walk quickly towards the door, and just as you’re about to leave, Maverick shouts “Close my tab, Penny!”

Once outside, Maverick takes the lead. He brings you around the back of the building, away from windows and the road, where no one will catch you.

He slides his hands over your hips, pulling you close to him.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I haven’t had an orgasm that I haven’t given myself in six months. Yes, I’m sure.”

Maverick smirks before pushes his lips against yours. He kisses hard and possessive, like he’s claiming your lips and making you forget about your stupid boyfriend. He presses you together, your breasts pushing against his chest.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbles against your lips. You keep kissing him, and he interrupts again.

“Let me eat you out,” he whispers when he pulls away. You blink in surprise, but nod your head. He drops to his knees and his fingers work at your fly, opening it and pulling your pants down to your ankles so he can fit between your legs.

Maybe your boyfriend cheating on you was the best thing to ever happen to you

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Can you write something with young!Maverick?

Something like where they meet and she has heard about his reputation (he's the type to only stay a few nights and then move on to the next girl). So, when one night, he approaches her all smiley and flirty (and maybe a little shy and cute) she thinks that's exactly what he wants from her - to take her home for a night of sex just to move on to other people the next day. And, even though she has developed feelings for him, she accepts it, albeit with no expectation that she will become anything other than just another one he spent a night with or that it was anything other than just sex and fun. So, imagine her surprise when he starts acting the exact opposite towards her from what she expected - always wanting to be with her everywhere, skipping nightlife to be with her, being super clingy and loving, etc, etc. She doesn't believe he has feelings for her but she just can't understand his behavior. She starts to feel overwhelmed because her feelings for him only get worse and she fears the day when he will stop giving her that kind of attention (maybe she thinks this is just a harmless game for him, where she is the shiny new toy he is getting to know until she no longer interests him that much). She confronts him, confesses her feelings, gets angry and tells him to stay away. He desperately tries to tell her about his feelings for her, that he has always been in love with her and has tried to get closer to her through everything he has done because he didn't know what else to do. She doesn't believe him and it's basically him desperately trying to prove his love for her and all that cute stuff with a really happy ending 💖❣️

I also imagined a lot of cinematic chase scenes, inspired by that sand chase in There Are Rules and the f14 airport scene in Altitude 🤣🤣 so there's that. Lots of desperate, all-consuming love, perhaps ending with a love making scene that includes it all? Making desperate, passionate and hungry love. Someone so in love that they don't even know what to do, whether to cry or laugh.

You could also include a classic “misunderstanding scene” that unearths deep-rooted jealousy, but is it not what it seems? Lol it's all very cliché but honestly, it's the best shit in the world when it's written by someone who knows what they're doing, I live for desperate love.

I know this is extra long but hopefuly you'll be able to make it, I simply love your writing. Thank you. ❣️❣️

Oooh what a fun request! Thank you so much for sending this in!! I hope you don't mind, I kind of see this as a series rather than a one-shot, just because there's a lot to cover XD

Best of the Bad Boys

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff, allusions to sex

WC: ~2000

Masterlist

“That’s Maverick. Maverick Mitchell.”

You tear your gaze away from the animated man near the bar, throwing his arms around wildly as he describes some aerial trick he’s no doubt performed just that morning. You know exactly who he is, and yet, you turn to your friend jadedly and say, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

She gives you a sardonic smile and skeptically scoffs. “Right. Like your father’s never mentioned his name.”

You shrug, glancing back at the pack of fighter jocks crowding the front of the establishment, each one admittedly a high-flier in his own right – pun intended. But Maverick… Maverick still manages to stand out. “He talks about all of them,” you reply nonchalantly, adding, “It’s not like I sit there and listen.”

“Why are you staring, then?”

You blink away, executing an elaborate eyeroll as you do, and fix your friend with a serious expression. “I can’t look?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“They’re nice to look at.”

Your friend nods in approval. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Doesn’t matter what his name is. What any of their names are. They’ll be gone in a couple of weeks.”

“Perfect fling material, if you ask me,” your friend wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“No thanks,” you respond with a grimace. Every couple of months, a fresh assortment of aviators arrives at Top Gun, ready to take on the world. Already the finest pilots in their respective squadrons, they are sent to train at the most elite fighter tactics school on the Pacific seaboard. Their egos soar higher than their jets and their heads are always in the clouds.

You see the various groups come and go – the program is only several weeks long – but it’s always entertaining to watch them transform over the course of their training. It’s why you frequent the officer’s club rather than any of the other pubs in the area. That and the cheap drinks.

“Probably for the best,” your friend sighs dramatically. “He’s got a reputation.”

You purse your lips, watching Maverick smile at the waitress as she distributes another round of drinks among the officers. You know about that too. “Point him out to me,” you say, as though you have no idea whom the conversation is about.

Your friend leans into the table and discreetly aims her finger in Maverick’s direction. “The pretty one,” she mutters.

You let out a small chuckle. “They’re all pretty.”

Your friend shakes her head. “Not that pretty.”

“Not that pretty,” you agree musingly. You make an effort not to fall for the top guns of Top Gun and, until Maverick, you haven’t had much trouble upholding that rule. But everything about him, from the squint of his eyes when he laughs to the radiant warmth of his smile, not to mention his muscular arms, makes your heart skip a beat.

And then he pivots in his stool and his gaze, coincidentally, lands on you. You hastily look away, hoping he didn't noticed you staring, and start to fiddle with the pearls of your necklace. Several moments later, you slowly lift your eyes to check if he’s still looking.

Your heart nearly springs up into your throat when you see that he is. His mouth quirks upward slightly before he gives you the kind of smile that says he’s confident you’ve already noticed him.

You don’t smile back. You’re not about to engage in this dance. You do not associate with pilots. Your friend, on the other hand, is all for the naval aviator experience.

“He’s looking at you,” she whispers excitedly.

“Stop,” you warn her sternly. “I’m not interested.”

“Well, I am,” she urges. “Let’s go talk to them. I like the blond one.” But before you can refuse for a second time, your friend mutters, “Oh god, never mind. They’re coming to us!”

You look at her in alarm and then gulp as several of the men from the bar approach your table. You glance up at them with raised eyebrows.

“Hello,” Maverick says, looking directly at you. He presses his lips together into a vexingly endearing sideways smirk.

When you don’t respond, your friend chimes in excitedly. “Hello, hello! Welcome!” she exclaims, as though she’s receiving guests for a dinner party. “I’m Susan. Hello!”

You eye her moodily as she motions for the newcomers to join the two of you at the table.

“Mind if I sit here?” Maverick asks, pointing to the seat next to you.

You meet his gaze reluctantly. “Knock yourself out,” you respond coolly. You’re still annoyed that he caught you staring and you intend to make it clear that you are not just some girl he can charm into bed.

Maverick’s smirk widens somewhat, as though he’s not quite buying the act. He takes a seat beside you while one of his friends starts chatting up Susan who seems very much to be enjoying the attention.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Maverick says, leaning over slightly so that he could speak more discreetly. “Slider, here, wanted to get to know your friend. And I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch him crash and burn.”

You glance at Maverick dubiously. “That’s why you’re here?”

Maverick looks at you, then, and his gaze drifts languidly over the features of your face. “Would you prefer a different reason?”

Ignoring the frantic stutter of your heart as his eyes settle on yours, you shrug and look away, taking a sip of your drink. If only he knew who your father was, he wouldn’t be so bold. “I would prefer honesty.”

“Okay,” he says, resting his forearm on the table. “Honestly? I couldn’t leave without meeting you.”

You glance back at him hesitantly, not sure how to react. “Why?” you ask, trying to control the embarrassing tremor in your voice.

Maverick drops his head and lets out a small chuckle. “I just couldn’t,” he says. “That’s as honest as I’m going to get.”

You eye him tentatively, wishing he weren’t so dangerously good-looking. His sheepish smile almost makes you forget that he dates women for sport.

But the longer Maverick sits by your side, the less important his apparent promiscuity becomes. And when the two of you wind up in the back alley behind the officer’s club, wrapped in each other’s arms, you aren’t overly concerned about the future outlook of this particular liaison. Something about the way he kisses your neck convinces you that some moderate heartache might just be worth it.

Maverick weaves his fingers through yours and lifts his arm over your head, pressing the back of your hand into the brick wall behind you. He cradles the back of your head with his other hand as his mouth moves hungrily beneath your jawline. You let out an audible sigh and he pins you even more firmly against the wall, as though the sound you made has aroused him further.

And despite your every intention to just kiss for a while before taking your leave – because you don’t do flyboys – Maverick has managed to change your mind without speaking a word. You want to tell him that you’re flattered but no thank you, instead, you breathe, “come back,” when he finally pulls away.

Maverick smirks at you and tugs on the hand he’s still holding so that you’re drawn directly into his arms. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers.

You wrap your arms around his body, flattening yourself against him like you mean to be absorbed. And he folds around you like a cocoon, his arms enveloping you so securely, you barely have to hold yourself upright. He moves backward, pulling you after him toward his bike.

…

“We fucked,” you tell Susan the moment she puts her car in park.

She looks over at you with wide eyes and an even wider mouth as her jaw literally drops. “You and Maverick?” she shrieks.

You wince anxiously and look around, making sure nobody heard her exclamation. Then you roll up your window and nod for her to do the same. “Keep it together, Susan,” you hiss. “We’re behind enemy lines.”

Susan grimaces apologetically but the remorse is fleeting and, before you know it, she’s eagerly bouncing in her seat. “As if you���ve been blabbering on about a fender bender for half an hour and drop this bomb right before you have to go!” she whispers feverishly. You give her a grievous look which she expertly ignores. “Was he good?”

You sigh. “He was fine,” you say curtly, still uncomfortable sharing the details of last night’s encounter while sitting in the parking lot outside Hangar 1.

Susan appears disappointed. “Just fine?”

You glance around once more and then respond quietly, “He was very good.”

“I fucking knew it!” Susan yelps, tapping you on the knee excitedly. “Tell me more!”

“Later,” you say. “I have to meet my dad, remember?”

She nods. “I’ll pick you up in half an hour?”

“Thanks, Suz,” you respond. “You’re a life saver.”

…

Your father, Top Gun’s very own Viper, paces back and forth as you sit in one of the chairs before his desk. He’s trying to keep his cool. “You sure you’re not hurt?” he asks again.

You nod tiredly. You’ve had a hell of a day.

Viper sighs moodily and shakes his head at you as though he’s not convinced.

It’s at exactly this moment that there’s a knock on his door and, as you begin to rise from your chair to leave your father to his duties, Maverick enters his office.

You freeze, meeting his gaze in alarm. Maverick, in turn, stops in his tracks, gaping at you from the doorway, forgetting even to salute his superior.

“Lieutenant,” Viper says. “You need something?”

Maverick, who seems unable to look away from you, stammers, “Do – I – uh…”

“Maverick,” Viper says sternly, and Maverick finally glances in his direction.

“Commander Metcalf,” Maverick says, a little dazed as though he’s surprised to find Viper in his own office.

“Speak, Lieutenant. I don’t have all day,” Viper grumbles, still irritable from the news he’s received during your visit.

Maverick, who seems unable to recall why he’s even come, gulps nervously and glances back at you again.

“Okay, well, thanks dad,” you say quickly. “I’ll be off now.”

Maverick’s face slowly morphs into a visage of terror as he realizes who you are and what, in fact, it means for him to have had relations with the commander’s daughter. He watches you in horror, beginning to mouth the word ‘dad’ before he catches himself and leaves his mouth hanging open on the ‘a’.

“How will you get home?” Viper asks you, not paying attention to Maverick’s reaction.

“Susan’s picking me up,” you respond.

Viper sighs again. Then, he sighs in Maverick’s direction. “Maverick, meet my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, this is Lieutenant Mitchell, recent Top Gun graduate and a helluva pilot. Hopefully, soon to be one of our newest instructors. If he finally remembers why he’s here, that is.”

Maverick glances anxiously between your face and Viper’s and then holds his hand out to you. “Pleased to meet you,” he says courteously, his eyes resting on yours for a significant moment.

You give him a tight smile and then give your father a hug. “I’ve got to go.”

Viper shakes his head all over again. “I still can’t believe that bastard hit you.”

“Who hit you?” Maverick looks over at you sharply, suddenly on high alert.

“Nobody – the other driver.” You exhale wearily, not too keen on repeating the story for a fourth time in one day. “I was in an accident –”

“Are you okay?” Maverick asks, immediately taking a step toward you.

“I’m fine, totally fine,” you assure him, taking several steps backward until you feel the doorknob at your spine. “I just need some rest.”

“We’ll sort out the car tomorrow,” Viper says.

“Hey, at least it wasn’t a jet, right?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Neither Viper not Maverick is amused by your humor, however, so you reach behind and pull open the door.

“Okay, well, bye dad! Mav – uh – Lieutenant Mitchell.”

Maverick stares after you as you retreat behind the door, still somewhat speechless.

“Tell Susan to drive carefully!” your father calls.

“Will do!” you call back.

Finally, Maverick speaks again. “I, uh” – he clears his throat – “I could give her a ride, sir.”

You pause in the doorway while your father purses his lips, considering the offer. Joke’s on him, of course, since Maverick has already given you one – just last night.

Read Part 2

Maverick Tag List:

I have no idea when this list got so long but the rest of it will be in the comments. Hope I got everyone, let me know if I missed you! As always, let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Mav works!

@wandering-wah

@callsign-sunshine

@ghost-heart34

@birdy-bat-writes

@matya4

@wkndwlff

@nyx2021

@bellamy1998

@oliviah-25

@alexxavicry

@army24--7

@thefandomimagines

@dracosluvbot

@smit41

@scenesofobx

@Criminalmindsandmarvel

@lunamoonbby

@malums-trash-can

@malindacath

@karleetakeenan

@callsign-echo

@toothemoonanddback

@broketraveler87

@atarmychick007

@shanimallina87

@creativitybeware

@xoxabs88xox

@Yoyop7

@hallecarey1

@nik2blog

@rrocky0ah

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@lilianashomaresparza

@latetedslesetoiles

@Elenavampire21

@starberryhorse

@ginger-gabsq

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@risingtripletaurus

@callsignmaverick5

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@hermaeusmorax

@littlebadariell

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Urban Cowboy - Jake Seresin x Reader

pairing: Jake Seresin x f! reader

warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v, mildly mean!dom Jake, teasing, jealous Jake

word count: 3.2k

The sounds of some 80s pop song echoed throughout the Hard Deck, a cheap colourful strobe light flashed around the room, its rainbow coloured beams striking random bargoers as they began to dance along to whatever was playing. It was new idea your aunt had come up with - doing theme nights at the bar once a month as a way to freshen things up and breathe new life into the military bar scene. 

Since you moved here four months ago, you’d gotten familiar with the regulars - there was Bradley Bradshaw, a man far older than he looked, with a penchant for comandeering the piano if the bar needed livening up, Natasha Trace, who had a fiery personality and often kept the other guys in their place, especially when the beers were flowing and they started flirting with unsuspecting patrons, Robert Floyd, the shy backseater who was always polite, tipped well and seemed to be the permanent designated driver on nights out, Reuben Fitch, who stood about a foot taller than you, and always had a witty comeback on hand, just in case, Mickey Garcia, who was sweet, but could talk anyone’s ear off about Star Trek, and Javy Machado, resident score keeper and pool table champion. 

Leading the group, was your Aunt Penny’s boyfriend, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. He often would come in, finding a table at the back of the room for his squad before abandoning them to spend the evening at the bar, chatting your aunt up and offering up any excuse to come behind the bar and sneak a hand to her hip or steal a squeeze of her rear. It was sweet the way your aunt and Pete were loved up, like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. 

This afternoon, Pete came in at four o’clock sharp, just as he promised to help set up. As he hung a couple of decorations you and your aunt had managed to find online, he turned to you and smiled, watching as you prepped the theme night’s cocktail menu.

“I forgot to tell you, another one of my guys is going to be here tonight. He’s been off training at a different base for the last few months, just landed in this morning. You’ll like him. He’s a firecracker.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying he’s a cocky asshole?”

“I wouldn’t say asshole. He’s just very…confident. I think you’ll like him though.”

“Are you talking about Jake?” Penny piped up as she looked at Pete, watching as he climbed up the step ladder to hang another decoration from the ceiling.

“Yeah, don’t you think they’d hit it off?”

“I think she might hit him.”

“What? No way. Jake’s not that bad.”

Penny scoffed and shook her head, laughing. Holding her hands up in surrender, she walked away, retreating back to the bar to begin making sure all the key ingredients to your drink menu were where they needed to be. You continued to stuff the evening’s special menus into their plastic protective sleeves, shaking your head at Pete’s attempts to try and set you up with someone from his squad. It wasn’t the first time, you’d been on a date with Bradley once before, but found the age gap was too great between the two of you, with Bradley in complete agreement that you were much better suited as friends than lovers, and on a date with Reuben, who, despite efforts between the two of you, there was no chemistry shared there. 

As five o’clock approached, you hurried into the back stockroom to change into your themed outfit for the night, pulling your hair out of the velcro rollers that Penny had helped you wrap your hair up into, creating the perfect 80s voluminous curl that would make even Christie Brinkley jealous. Your tight fitting Daisy Duke style shorts accentuated your curves, hugging your thighs and hips in all the right places, your crisp white button down shirt tied just under your bra, showing off your tanned, soft midsection. A pair of mid-sized silver hoop earrings hung from your earlobes to complete the look. Your aunt’s stash of Aqua-Net hairspray was all you needed to finish it off, stepping out the back door to shake your curls out and spray them with enough hairspray to ensure they wouldn’t budge for the night. 

You reentered the bar to find Pete’s friends piling in, the other regular patrons all trickling in and getting comfortable as they came through, turning the bar into a sea of cheesy fake mustaches and 80s style Hawaiian shirts, brightly coloured polos and coordinating Bermuda shorts, wigs and legwarmers. The evening was quickly livening up, and you got to work behind the bar with your aunt, pulling pints and mixing drinks, firing off orders left right and center as the bar filled with partygoers. 

An hour into the night, Bradley approached the bar, his aviator sunglasses perched atop his chocolate coloured curls, his loud, brightly coloured Hawaiian print shirt buttoned just enough to allow a few sparing curls of chest hair to peek out from the top. He leaned against the bar, smiling at you, his mustache neatly combed to closer resemble a style from the 80s. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was trying to emulate Tom Selleck. You’d seen pictures of Bradley’s dad and Pete from back in the 80s, and recognized the shirt anywhere. It was clear Bradley was dressed identically to his father, and you had to admire the dedication he had to the theme. 

“What can I get you, Bradshaw?”

“Hi dollface, I’ll take a Budweiser. And a chance to take you for a spin later?”

“We’ve done this before, Bradley,” you laughed as you cracked the top off the beer bottle and slid it across the counter to him. Bradley shook his head as he sipped the frothy liquid, grinning as he set the bottle down on the counter.

“I didn’t mean you. I’m practicing. I can’t be dressed like this and not use some kind of weird 80s shit to impress a girl, right? I’m just…using you for practice. Did it work?”

“Bradley, why don’t you, I don’t know, just, be yourself?” 

“Because tonight I’m not myself. I’m some single 39 year old in the 80s trying to get a date, apparently.”

“Well then, gag me with a spoon, that was gnarly. Try a different line. One that doesn’t begin with “dollface”?”

“Got it, thanks!”

You watched as Bradley sauntered away to go try his luck with a pretty blonde over by the jukebox. You smirked to yourself as you heard Bradley start singing along to Madonna, carrying the tune with an impressive baritone that you weren’t expecting. You knew he could sing, but singing Madonna was a whole new side to him. Turning your back for a moment, you began fixing a drink for yourself, mixing together the ingredients for a Shirley Temple. You looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered blonde man approach the bar counter, his hair slicked back, and a blonde mustache that made poor Bradley’s look unimpressive rested on his upper lip. The most stunning pair of bright green eyes looked at you, and a set of perfectly straight, whitened teeth fresh out of a Colgate commercial flashed a smile at you.

“Hi Darlin’, I’ll take whatever’s on tap.”

“Sure thing,” You nodded, trying hard not to audibly gulp at the adonis of a man standing in front of you. 

“Are you new ‘round here?” he drawled, “I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”

“Uh, within the last four months, yeah.” you nodded as you finished pulling a pint of draught for him, the frothy head of the beer perfectly resting in the glass. 

“Oh! That’ll explain it. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, at your service, m’am.” He winked, and you felt yourself melt a little at the sight of this human embodiment of a Ken doll flirting with you. 

“You’re Jake?”

“Depends who’s askin’, Honey.” His accent was thick and heavy, something straight out of those reruns of The Andy Griffiths Show that your mom made you watch when you were a child.

“I’m Penny’s niece,” you nodded, giving him your name and laughing softly as your cheeks blushed, “I moved down here to help her out with things around here while I try to figure some life things out.”

“I see,” he smirked, sipping his beer, the foam brushing against his mustache as he set the glass down. “And does that list of things you’re figuring out include finding a strong, charming, handsome Southern boy?”

“It might, do you know any?” You quipped, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your own drink, pretending to feign disinterest in the handsome stranger before you.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“That so, hun? Who? Do I know him?”

“Not yet, but I think he sure would like to know you, Darlin’.”

You shook your head, your curls bouncing as you started to laugh, unable to control yourself. Jake was as bold as he was handsome, and you were suddenly realizing what Pete was referring to when he said that Jake was confident. He practically exuded a cocksure confidence from every pore in his body. And while that would normally repulse you and send you heading for the hills, with Jake, it felt different. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, his magnetic charms and graces pulling you in, and your inhibitions wearing down. However, you also knew how to deal with men like this - he was in need of an ego check, and you were just the person for the job. 

“Is that right? Well, you tell your little Southern-fried wannabe cowboy of a friend that if he’s interested, he’s going to have to stick around the bar all night. I promised Aunt Penny I’d help her make sure this night went smoothly, and I don’t need a knockoff Dukes of Hazzard cast member distracting me.” 

“Wannabe cowboy?” Jake gasped in feigned offence, clutching his chest dramatically as he slipped into an even thicker accent than earlier, “Now Darlin’, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re breakin’ my heart over here. One thing I ain’t is a wannabe cowboy. You know, I used to ride in rodeos as a kid? Was one of the best there was for under 15 year olds, ‘til I decided to join the Navy instead.”

“Oh, so you’re like, a real cowboy then,” you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“S’pose you could say that. Only one real way to find out, ain’t there?”

“Take you to a farm and watch you wrangle cattle on horseback?” you retorted sarcastically.

“You’re funny, I like that.”

“I bet you do.” 

Jake leaned in across the bar, a smirk forming on his lips as he looked at you, his bright green eyes fixated on your lips as you spoke. His long eyelashes fluttered at you as he eyed you up, practically undressing you with his imagination. You grinned as you gestured to the sign behind you, reading that if you disrespect a lady, you owe everyone a round. 

“Watch it, Lieutenant. If you’re not careful, I’ll go ring that bell and you’ll learn a very expensive lesson.”

“Oh, Darlin’, I can guarantee, I ain’t gonna learn anything from it. I’m just dumb enough to do it again. Can’t help myself around a pretty girl like yourself.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you laughed at his relentless attempt. You knew the only reason he persisted was because you were teasing him, but at the same time, you didn’t mind the attention he was giving you. He wasn’t as tall as Bradley, or as broad shouldered, but he was built like a linebacker, with a solid frame and the accent alone was enough to drive you crazy.

It was almost 11 when Jake stopped you again, this time, outside of the stockroom when you’d disappeared back there for more maraschino cherries and pineapple juice. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, causing his pastel-coloured polo shirt to bulge around his biceps. His lips curled up in that annoyingly perfect smile once again as he stood in your path.

“Hey, Honey, need a hand with that?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you shrugged it off, shaking your head as you smirked at him, “You often follow girls into storage rooms?”

“Only the ones worth following.”

“Wow, Lieutenant, with a response like that, it’s a wonder you don’t have a trail of broken hearts following you around.”

“What is your issue, anyway? You got a thing against blondes? Pilots?”

“Please,” you smirked, shaking your head, “I went on a date with Rooster. He’s a pilot.”

“Is it ‘cause I’m from Texas?”

“No, it’s because you’re probably the most arrogant prick I’ve ever had the displeasure of coming across, actually. God, it’s like you think all you have to do is flash that stupid handsome smile and I’ll throw myself at you.”

Jake’s face fell slightly as he raised an eyebrow at you. You could tell he wasn’t used to having a girl put him in his place like this, but his crestfallen gaze was quickly replaced by that shit-eating grin he seemed to never go without sporting. 

“Honey, you’re real pretty when you get mean like that.”

“You’re impossible,” you sighed in exasperation.

“But you love it, don’t you?” 

Jake closed the gap between the two of you as he spoke, taking a couple steps closer to you. You bit your lip as you hesitated, thinking about the consequences that might follow if you acted on your desires. 

Fuck it. 

Your hands gripped the fabric of his polo shirt, pulling him down to your height as you crashed your lips into his passionately. You kissed a slow, hot trail up to his ear, a breathy moan escaping your lips as he put his hands on your hips to bring you in as close as possible, his body heat radiating on to you. 

“You gonna show me just how good you are, Cowboy?”

“Yes, m’am. I reckon I could show you a better time than any other man in here.”

Jake’s hand slipped down your curves, reaching around to cup your ass cheeks as he hoisted you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around your waist. You quickly discarded the cherries and juice that were in your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Jake’s lips worked their way along your neck, wet, fervent kisses that made your body squirm with pleasure, your arousal growing and burning in your stomach with each second. 

“Back door?” He murmured against your neck, his hands keeping a firm hold of your ass.

“Two steps behind me, to the left,” you panted, nodding your head as he sucked on your skin. 

It was unseasonably warm for May, the humidity hanging in the air as you left the air conditioned building. Jake pushed you up against the wall, using it as leverage as he quickly reached down to undo your shorts and wiggled them out of the way. He ran two of his thick fingers along the outside of your lace underwear, stroking the dampened fabric as he smirked to himself.

“Someone’s eager, aren’t ya, Darlin’?”

“Just shut up and fuck me, ok?”

“Now, that any way to ask for it?”

A wicked grin appeared on his face as he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, stroking at your clit with a feather light touch, just enough to make you whine for more. 

“Jake, I swear to fuck, if you don’t take me right now.”

“Shhh, Sugar, don’t want anyone to hear, do ya? Unless you get off on getting caught,” He purred as he coaxed his fingertips inside of your dripping entrance, pumping them into you with precision.

You tossed your head backwards as Jake thrusted his fingers further into you, each movement harder and faster than before. The determined look in his eye alone was almost enough to send you over the edge. This man was hell-bent on making you orgasm, and he was on the right track to get you there within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, s-so close, Jake,” you keened, your fingers gripping his thick blonde hair as he brought you to your climax.

“That’s it, Sugar. Look at you, you’re a mess and I ain’t even started on you yet.”

“J-Jake, please,” you whimpered, coming undone as he fucked his fingers into you at a breakneck pace.

“Speak up, sweetheart, can’t hear ya.”

Your head started to spin as he pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he slammed his hips forwards, shoving his thick cock inside of you, causing you to cry out in ecstasy at the sudden fullness. Trying to be quiet, you secretly thanked your lucky stars that the sounds of Your Love by The Outfield blared throughout the club. Just as the chorus picked up, Jake rocked his hips forwards again, fucking himself into you with enough force to make you feel as though he might blow your back out right then and there.

“That’s it, Sugar, takin’ me so well,” Jake smirked, “What was that you said about bein’ a wannabe cowboy? Bet those other boys can’t fuck you like this, now can they?”

You were practically rendered speechless by Jake’s precise, rhythmic thrusts into your cunt, his masculine grunting and teasing proving enough to throw you back over the edge once again. Your legs began to shake and shudder while he bucked his hips up into you, his eyes full of lust and hunger as he brought you to your second orgasm of the night. Your walls clenched around him tightly, eliciting a low, pornographic moan out of Jake. 

Raking your fingers through his hair, tugging on it as you threw your head back, you screamed out his name, louder than you intended. You lost your ability to hold yourself together as Jake’s thrusts became sloppier, his own orgasm following close behind yours. 

“Fuck, am I good?” He groaned, his eyes pleading for permission.

“On the pill, you’re good,” you panted, nodding quickly as Jake let himself go inside of you, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer as he repeated it over and over, praising you.

“Now, how ‘bout letting a strong, handsome Southern boy take you out on a date so he don’t feel so bad about fucking you until you can’t walk a couple hours after meetin’ ya?” He grinned as he readjusted himself and pulled his clothes back up. 

“I think I can fit you into my schedule, on one condition.”

“Mhmm? What’s that?”

“Next time, you come wearing a cowboy hat.”

“Deal, Sugar, I’ll even let you wear it.” 

[simpforrooster]

i love when you call me pete.

pete ‘maverick’ mitchell x f!reader

t/w: mentions of an age gap, some smooching. drunk!maverick

summary: maverick almost drunkenly tells reader how he feels about her

a/n: lowercase intended! wrote this on my phone and have autocaps off xD two fics in one day!!!

maverick laughs as jake, one hand over his own eyes, takes aim at the dart board.

jake hits a bullseye. mav pulls out his wallet, and reluctantly hands jake a folded bill. your eyes roll at the captain’s stupidity. jake never misses a bullseye.

the guys surely hustled the poor man. mav’s hand falls on jake’s shoulder as he finishes off his beer.

“how long are you gonna stare at him?” phoenix asks with a raised brow.

“i am not staring,” you counter, knowing full well that you are indeed staring.

not that you could help it. the man may be twice your age, but he’s hot. even phoenix, happily engaged to bob, gets her an eye full of the elder captain.

you wipe down the bar in front of phoenix and hand her another lemon drop. tucking the rag in your back belt loop, you turn to hand another regular their drink.

ever since penny hired you, you’ve managed to take care of the bar almost as good as she does. she lets you take on the slower days of the week alone, and the two of you manage the weekend crowds together.

once everyone has been taken care of, you turn your attention back to your friend. you catch her admiring her ring. she looks up at you with a grin.

“sorry,” she shrugs. you shake your head.

“no indeed. i’d be gawking at that rock all day if it was mine.”

“you know you said that entire sentence looking at him and not me, right.”

you startle. she’s right. you’d basically been undressing maverick with your eyes. imagining your left hand heavy with a ring.

“you’re impossible,” she laughs.

your heart picks up its pace as maverick saunters, or better yet, sways up to the bar.

“four more, please. on my tab, babe.” maverick holds up five fingers, a giant grin on his face.

babe?

you lean over the bar and lay his thumb back against his palm. “that’s four.”

maverick looks down at you and then back to his hand. a chuckle falls languidly from his lips. “you’re right.”

phoenix raises a brow at you, out of sight from mav, who is looking at you like you’re his center of gravity.

“have i ever told you how gorgeous you are?” maverick says, still holding up those four fingers. the comment turns your insides into jelly.

“are you drunk, pete?” you ask him. there’s no way he’d be saying any of this if he were sober.

his hand falls to the bar top and his eyes fall closed. he stands there a moment, gathering himself, you assume.

his eyes open, those blue irises almost knocking you off your feet with how intense they look at you.

“i may be drunk, but that doesn’t mean i’m lying about you being gorgeous.”

phoenix grins at you over his shoulder, maverick completely oblivious to her.

no, he’s definitely only noticing you. every moved you’ve made, he’s tracked it. well, as well as he can given that he’s shitfaced.

maverick shrugs a shoulder. “maybe sober me is just nervous to tell you that.”

“pete,” you breathe. “you’re a naval aviator. there’s no way i make you nervous.”

“god, i love how you say my name,” he admits. before he can say anything else, jake and rooster appear at his side.

“come on, pops, we’ll get you home.” the men each take an arm, seeing as maverick can hardly remain upright.

he tries to shake them off. “i can’t go until i ask y/n out.”

your hand comes up to your mouth, your heart picking up pace again.

“let’s try tomorrow, mav,” rooster murmurs to his godfather. maverick vehemently shakes his head.

“no. i have to tell her now. i have to tell her i—,”

“oh no you don’t,” jake says, forcing maverick away from the bar. “you will not finish that sentence until you’re sober. she doesn’t deserve a drunk admission.”

rooster shoots you an apologetic look, handing you his card to close out the three of their tabs. you move on autopilot. punching in the men’s names, clicking on them, swiping the card, repeat. you hesitate on pete’s account. god, he did have a lot to drink.

that’s all that was. drunken words. he won’t remember any of this in the morning.

once the men are out the bar and pete is loaded in the back of the bronco, you turn to phoenix.

“what the fuck?” she screeches.

“i told them not to let him approach her with as far gone as he was,” bob comments, saddling up in the barstool next to his fiancé.

“what are you talking about, bob?” you ask.

bob shares a look with phoenix.

“you’re nuts if you’ve never seen the way he looks at you.”

“please don’t get my hopes up, bob,” you tell the bar, already fearful of those hopes plummeting once maverick comes to his senses and takes everything that just happened back.

you close out the remaining people at the bar. phoenix and bob hang around with you, walking you to your car once you’ve got the hard deck locked up.

the dagger squad take turns staying with you when you have a closing shift. they’re more protective of you than a set of new parents.

you hug your friends goodbye and drive to your apartment.

~

the next morning, your doorbell wakes you up with a start.

literally rolling out of the bed, you hit the floor tangled in your sheets. the doorbell chimes again. searching for a pair of pants, dread fills you as the doorbell rings once again.

what could be so urgent at..7 am?!

your mind runs through every possibility.

the doorbells chimes for a forth time just as you throw the door open, shrieking, “what?!”

pete mitchell stands on your stoop. he looks like hell. the two of you stare at one another, while pete grips the flowers he’s holding with a death grip.

you open the door wider, silently inviting him in. he follows you to the kitchen and settles at your island. the silence in the room thickens as you set to work making coffee. you feel his eyes on you the entire time.

“listen, y/n,” maverick starts, but you cut him off, sharply holding up a finger. you fish two mugs from your cabinet. you fill his mug to the brim, spooning two teaspoons of sugar in it. you fix yourself a little coffee with your creamer. setting the coffee in front of him, you step back and lean against the counter across him.

waving your hand, you tell him to proceed.

“i’m so sorry about last night,” he says, finally laying the flowers down. he runs his hands down the front of his jeans, wiping away the sweat.

“if you’re about to take it all back, i really don’t want to hear it, mav,” you tell him.

“mav..” he repeats to himself, looking at your counter top. “last night you called me pete.” he brings his eyes to yours.

you stare at him. okay, he remembers that.

“i don’t want to take any of it back, y/n.”

your breath catches at the back of your throat.

“i want to apologize,” he continues. “you didn’t deserve a drunken admission. i was being cowardly. because believe it or not, you’re ten times scarier than an f-18.”

when you say nothing, he keeps on.

“i know how to handle an f-18. i know what makes it work, how to get it back on track. i know that plan inside and out.” he takes a breath. “i don’t know how to navigate this. you.”

“me?”

“you. god, y/n. you have the ability to wreck me to my core. and i have so terrified to admit my feelings to you.”

“come on, pete, you can’t mean that,” you tell him, folding in on yourself.

“of course i do. the guys told me talking to you drunk was a bad idea. i thought i could handle it, but you just looked so gorgeous, i couldn’t help it.”

you are fully aware of how you looked last night during that fiasco. and gorgeous surely wasn’t it. not with your tank top and cut offs. and you know your hair had to be a mess. it always was at the end of a shift.

maverick rises from his stool. coming around the kitchen island, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking terrified as he walks over to you.

“i am sorry i tried to do this shitfaced,” he whispers, a breathe away from you. “tell me i didn’t ruin anything.”

he’s never stood this close to you, and it’s doing odd things to your heart.

“you didn’t ruin anything, pete,” you tell him. his eyes drop down to your mouth, silently asking permission. you nod, not trusting your voice to not betray how much you want this.

maverick pins you to the counter, his hands on either side of you, holding his weight off you. you speed him up by balling your hand in his shirt and pulling him down to you.

maverick grins as his mouth meets yours, falling back into his normal self. you can fill the confidence flowing through him as his hands move from the counter to your body.

his expert hands fall exactly where you need them. he deepens the kiss, his tongue running along your bottom lip. opening up to him, he pulls you tight against his body.

“fuck,” he breathes against your lips.

“tell me about it,” you murmur.

he plants tantalizing kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“pete,” you moan. he tightens his hold in response.

“i love it when you call me pete,” he says, returning his kisses to your mouth.

masterlist.

[ohtobeleah]

Cards Close to the Chest // Bob Floyd

Summary: When Bob & Phoenix fall from the sky, Bob’s closest kept secrets come to light as two of the most important people in his life race to his side.

Warnings: Bob Floyd x F!reader. Fluff (poorly written) Mild cock-sure Jake Seresin. Hospitals. F18 accident. Wholesome read.

Word Count: 3k

Author Note: I was just feeling some fluffy Bob content and I thought this would be a good way to break up the tension with all my over dramatic angst/whump. Thank you so much to @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading this for me! Vee did gods work with this one.

Main Masterlist | Bob Floyd Masterlist

No significant other wants to receive that call. That dreaded call that tells you that the inevitable has happened. That phone call that sucks all the air from your lungs and replaces it with cement. The very phone call that alters your perception of life, of time, of all the small arguments you ever had with the person you love so dearly. It's the phone call no significant other wants to receive. 

“Is this Mrs Floyd?” The man on the other end of the line asked with a cautiousness that told you he really didn't want the answer to be yes. Your daughter, Millicent, sat in her high chair smashing bananas all over the surface of her tray. Getting to know the texture of the latest solid you had introduced her to. 

“This is she? May I ask who's speaking?” You didn't mean to come across as defensive, but the panic inside your chest had well and truly begun to bloom. Your eyes lingered over to the pair of spare reading glasses your husband left lying around the small apartment the two of you and your young daughter had been staying in. If this was the phone call, the very phone call that was about to alter your life forever you couldn't help but to think of the last time you saw your husband wear those frames. 

“Mrs Floyd, Y/n, my name is Pete Mitchell, Captain Mitchell, or Just Mav will do–” The man on the other end of the line rambled off the list of names he went by. You didn't care all that much, but you let him go on. Your eyes drifted back toward your daughter, the very embodiment of half you and half your husband. Robert Floyd. In your mind, you prayed to whatever god was listening that this wouldn't be the phone call every military spouse dreaded. 

“There was an accident during a training exercise your husband was involved in this morning.” The words all sounded broken and inaudible, all but the few key details.

‘Husband’ ‘Involved’ ‘Accident’ 

“Is he–” Mav knew what the question was going to be, so he gave you no chance to ask, he wanted to be the one to call, he wanted to be the one to tell you that although your husband had been involved in a training accident, he was still in one piece and very much alive. 

“He's alive, still very much in one piece ma’am–” Mav caught himself smiling ever so slightly, despite the looming knowledge in the back of his mind that the situation could have been a lot worse. “They want to keep him overnight for observation, so if you'd like to come in and see him, I'm sure Bob would really appreciate it.” 

The sigh that left your body, the shock that overwhelmed you, the tears that stained your cheek you weren't aware were there all told you one thing—you couldn't live without your husband. 

“O–okay.” You nodded to yourself as if the man on the other end of the line could see you. “Y-yes, I’ll, uh, just get our daughter sorted and I'll be right in.” 

It was then Maverick’s turn to sit in the deafening silence that threatened to consume his entire being. Bob had a daughter? That added a whole other layer to the incident he hadn’t accounted for. 

Bob kept that card close to his chest, his daughter, Mille, was his pride and joy. 

“Try to keep in mind he's okay Mrs Floyd,. Your husband’s a very skilled weapons system officer and his training truly saved his life today.” You hadn’t taken your eyes off your daughter since you remembered how to breathe as you stood in the middle of the small apartment kitchen. She was so innocent, so young, so mesmerised by her dad that she would have known something was wrong if he didn't come home. 

“It's never been my husband's ability that I doubt, Captain Mitchell.” You replied as you wiped away your tears and reached for a sponge to go about cleaning up your daughter's high chair mess. “It's the system he works for that keeps me up at night.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

Jake Seresin had never been so relieved when he was told that both Bob and Phoenix were alright and almost injury-free. Phoenix had a few bumps and bruises, a minor cut on her forearm, and a minor concussion that would surely see her grounded for a week at the minimum. 

Bob was the same, only his ribs had taken a pretty nasty beating when he hit the ground with an unprecedented amount of force. Still, the usually arrogant, somewhat self-loathing, and above all infuriatingly good aviator wasn't about to say how relieved he truly was. 

But he did, however, offer to take Phoenix some personal belongings for her overnight stay in the chateau short-stay ward of the Miramar Base Hospital. 

“Just hold on a minute, sweetheart!” 

Jake didn't mean to stick his nose where it didn't belong, but the ear-piercing cries of a child that couldn't have been any older than one broke him out of his mid-afternoon trance. The carpark at the Base hospital was packed to the rafters, but surely there would have been a parent’s park closer to the entrance? 

Jake wished with every fibre of his being that he could have kept walking, he wished he just could have kept putting one foot in front of the other. But his mother raised him right. With a heavy sigh and a regret deep in his chest, Jake doubled back a few paces and turned his attention to the woman struggling to get up the stroller. 

“Ma’am, I hate to be a bother but do you need a hand?” 

“Me?” You turned around to address the man who’d been the only person to stop while others had walked right on past and whispered under their breath. Some had even stopped to watch, but no one had offered a hand. “Yes, yes please I just need someone to–” 

Assessing the situation, Jake was sure he knew what the issue was. 

Within a few seconds of you trying to explain what was wrong, the man who’d stopped to help had placed the bag he was carrying over his shoulder down onto the ground and stepped hard onto the safety that was jammed. 

“How did you know to do that?” You asked with a look of disbelief as you immediately raced around to grab your daughter out of the car. She was distraught. “Shhh, I’m here, see I told you just a few minutes, didn't I baby?” You tried your best to soothe the crying tot. 

“My sister has the same stroller, gets jammed all the time.” the man smiled politely as he stood by the now perfectly erected stroller. “Jake, Jake Seresin.” 

“I recognise the callsign–” You replied when you finally allowed yourself to take in what the man was wearing. The same Nomex flight suit your husband frequented more often than not. “Yeah, Hangman, you work with my husband.” You beamed as you bounced your daughter softly until she was calm enough to be placed into her stroller. 

Jake was racking his brain trying to figure out who the hell your husband was. He thought he knew everything about everyone he worked with. From the secrets Rooster tried to keep to the fact Payback had a raging nut allergy. BuUt a wife and child? Who the hell had a wife and child and hadn’t bothered to mention it? 

“I work with your husband?” Jake repeated back to you like he was still trying to play catch up. “Sorry, I must be having a mind blank, with all due respect to your husband.” 

“Bob Floyd?” You mentioned your husband's name like it was honey on your tastebuds. Jake truly couldn't compute what you were saying. Bob fucking Floyd was married? Bob Floyd had a kid!? “He had a training accident earlier today with his front seater, scared the absolute hell out of me.” You tried to laugh, but you weren't about to mention to Jake that you'd spent the better half of forty-five minutes in the shower with your daughter having a full-blown panic attack after Mav had called. 

“You're Bob's wife?” Jake asked with a frown that was so deeply indeed on his forehead you truly weren’t sure what was so wrong about the fact you were Bob's wife. “Bob has a wife?” As you clipped your daughter in, Jake picked up the bag he’d been carrying up to the entrance of the hospital before he stopped to help you. 

“Together seven, married for three.” You proudly smiled as you started walking your daughter’s stroller towards the hospital. Jake kept himself in line, walking by your side as he tried to compute the information he was being delivered. “Bob’s a pretty private person, please don't be offended if he didn't tell you we existed.” This wasn't the first time and you knew it wouldn't be the last time you were left to explain that yes, your husband was in fact your husband. 

The chuckle that left Jake's mouth told you it wasn't about being offended. 

“No Ma'am, no offence taken–” He explained through the shit- eating grin. “I just wasn't aware Bob had it in him is all.” The idea Bob had a wife was an easier pill to swallow than Bob having a whole ass child. In Jake's mind, Bob was far too ill-equipped to know how to use what he had. Or at least that was the rough opinion he had of the wallflower-esk weapons system officer. “But it's nice to know the guys got a family.” 

“He does, he’s got us–” You couldn't help it when your eyes welled with tears. “Isn't that right, Millie girl?” 

Jake had never stopped to wonder what the loves of his coworkers were like. Sure, he knew Phoenix and Rooster prior to their return to TopGun, but never once had he stopped to think if Bob had a family. 

“He’s a real lucky guy.” Jake confirmed as he walked with you. “Gorgeous wife, cute kid, I'm sure he’s gonna be really happy to see you after the day he’s had.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

In all the time Bob had flown for the United State Navy, this had been his closest call with death. The bed sheets that covered the small hospital bed scratched at his exposed skin. The paper-thin hospital gown that now adorned his body left little to the imagination if he stood. 

The very last person Bob expected to see enter his hospital room was Jake Seresin. Bob thought he was having an all-out nightmare when the cock-sure aviator walked in with a shit-eating grin as wide as his cheeks would allow him. 

“No–no absolutely not.” Bob shook his head in utter disbelief. “You don't get to come in here and give me shit after I fell hundreds of metres out of the sky.” It had been a rough day to say the very least and all Bob wanted more than anything else in the entire world was to hug you and his baby girl. “Hangman, I'm so serious right now–” Bob pressed as Jake stood with a proud chest and that smug ass grin by the door of his hospital room, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. 

“You know, that's no way to talk to the man who saved your damsel in distress wife in the carpark–” Jake replied as you rounded the corner and pushed your daughter’s stroller into the hospital room. “Funny, I don't think any of us knew you were married, Floyd.” 

Bob's demeanour immediately softened as you made your way over with tears of mixed emotions welling in your eyes. Bob’s eyes mimicked yours, those baby blue eyes were quick to fill with clear but heavy tears as you sat on his bedside. 

“I'll leave you guys alone.” Jake knew when to leave a room, and he had someone else to go see after all. Phoenix, probably the only woman on the planet who could keep his ego from inflating to new heights. “Put some WD40 on the safety of your daughter's stroller too. It's starting to lock up–” Jake made sure to tell Bob before he left the room, still carrying the bag full of Natasha’s personal belongings he promised he would hand deliver. Bob's precious cargo however, the family that loved him to the moon and back and three times over, seemed like a more pressing delivery to complete first. 

“Bob–” Your hands were on your husband's cheeks the second Bob leaned in to kiss your lips ever so tenderly. The pads of your thumbs worked to wipe away the tears that spilled over his lower lash line, staining his cheeks with a salty layer of tears. “What on earth am I gonna do with you, hey?” You smiled through the kiss, speaking against your husband's supplye lips as he tried to keep his composure. “Falling from the sky like that? You scared me half to death.” 

“I’m sorry–” It was the first thing Bob was able to muster as you pulled away and reached down for your little girl. “I'm so sorry. Phoenix got us out of a pretty rough spot, she's the reason I'm still here.” 

You’d never met the woman who was currently flying with the love of your life, but you had to trust her. There was no room to not to. 

“Someone was enjoying her banana mush when Captain Mitchell called.” You explained as you picked up your daughter and handed her to Bob who was waisting with open arms and bright eyes. He was so relieved to be able to hold his daughter again, you could see that much as clear as day. “Isn't that right Millie, yeah–yeah, Dad really threw a spanner in the works, didn't he?” 

“Hey, baby girl.” Bob mumbled into the crook of his little girl's neck as he held her close to his chest. The burn in his ribs was worth it as she used his thighs as a stable surface to tiptoe on. “Oh my goodness, I can't even begin to explain how much I love you both.” 

“We love you so much.” You leaned in once again to kiss your husband's lips. “I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. You don't get to scare me like this again, okay?” 

Bob knew that you knew he couldn't promise you that, that was the worst part. He knew this could happen again and possibly be a worse outcome than this. But Bob also knew you needed reassurance he was here, that he was safe and that he wasn't going anywhere. 

Death himself would have to drag him down to hell kicking and screaming before he ever left you. 

“I'm not going anywhere baby, not now, not ever.” Bob cooed as he kissed you back, thankful he got to come home to his girls after such a life-threatening accident. The WSO knew he would have to see a shrink before getting in the cockpit again. How he was going to explain away the nightmares of leaving his wife a widow and his daughter fatherless he’d never know. “I’m here, I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere.” 

“Phoenix, I don't think you're supposed to be walking?” Jake's voice echoed down the hall as you and Bob looked towards the door of his hospital room. There, in the doorway, stood Natasha Trace with wide eyes and shocked horror written all over her face. It was clear to you at that moment that Bob hadn’t told her either, Bob hadn’t told anyone about you or his daughter. You were the two closest cards he kept close to his chest. 

“You have a family!?” Phoenix asked almost as if the answer was unclear. “Bob, you have a family and didn't tell me? Didn't tell any of us?” There was a rhyme to Bob's reasoning as to why he kept the two of you a secret. Bob just wanted something all for himself. He liked to keep his work life and private life as separate as possible. The Navy could be all-consuming on its best days, coming home to you and knowing not a single person could interrupt or stop by was simply the best version of heaven neither Bob could ever think of. 

He just wanted his family all to himself, something the Navy couldn't control, couldn't touch, couldn't taint. 

“Nix, this is my wife, Y/n, and my daughter Millicent.” Bob introduced the pair of you softly. “My best girls. “My whole world is in these two.” 

You sent the clearly distressed aviator a simple smile and a soft wave as you stood from your husband’s beside. You understood this was a lot for her to take in. The idea that her WSo had more to lose than she ever thought. 

“I'm still getting over the fact you have a daughter.” Jake interrupted from behind Phoenix as you walked closer to where she stood to take her in a warm embrace. 

“Jealousy is a disease, Seresin, I can tell you exactly how I made my daughter too if you want?” Bob held his daughter in hips lap as she babbled to herself as he helped her stand on her feet. She wasn’t walking yet, not even close. But she loved to stand. 

“My husband tells me you’re the reason he's still alive.” You spoke to Natasha like she deserved to be told this accident wasn't her fault. It could have happened to anyone. It shouldn't have happened to your husband and his front seater, but that was the luck of the draw–and you were blatantly aware it could have been much, much worse. 

“So, thank you for making sure he gets to come home another night.”

***~***~***~***~***~

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 6 - Cockwarming

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x f!reader

cw: instructor!mav, student x teacher relationship, power imbalance, angst if you squint?, age gap, office sex, oral sex (m receiving), penetration, cockwarming

word count: 1875

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

It takes Maverick about a minute to notice you standing in the doorway to his office. He’s swamped with paperwork, his pen nearly running out of ink at the scrabbling he’s been doing the past couple of hours. It seems you’d both ended up with irritable days, hence the reason you found yourself here in the first place.

It was late, thank God, and no one was really around anymore and you really didn’t feel like leaving base and spending the rest of the evening sulking alone at home. You knew that Captain Mitchell was staying in late, knew that if you didn’t wander in to see him, you might not see him at all over the next couple of days.

It was a bad habit he had. He gave you too much space. 

“Lieutenant,” he greets you now, a small smile curving the end of his mouth at the sight of you.

You ignore his propriety, stepping inside and shutting the door behind you. You try to match his smile. “Hi, Mav.”

He immediately drops the act. Eyes darting from you to the closed door, he asks in a hushed voice, “What are you doing?” 

You approach his desk, your failed smile replaced by a frown. You want to hug him. You want him to hug you, you mean. To make it all better. You’re not sure how to ask for that, though.

“Just wanted to see you,” you say instead, curious hands reaching for the objects on his desk. 

He doesn’t break eye contact as he takes each object from your hands, placing them back in their spot as you move them. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, sweetheart.”

Your heart sinks a little at the rejection, and he seems to notice the disappointment cross your face. 

“Come here,” he says then, beckoning you over with a single nod.

You step behind the desk and into his space, leaning down to meet him for a kiss. It’s risky; you didn’t lock the door and the blinds aren’t fully shut, but the kiss lasts maybe two seconds. It’s fine.

Mav smiles and looks up at you with a soft glint in his eyes, the one that reads I’ll see you soon, okay? It’s the look he gives you every time he sneaks out of your house, or drops you off. You’ve started to dread it. There’s so much uncertainty that comes with it. Every single time you see him after that affectionate look, he’s just your instructor again. The affection is gone and you’re never sure when it’ll return. It doesn’t matter how much you ache for him. 

Boy, how badly you ache for him now. A kiss is never enough.

You’re almost going to swallow your pride and leave his office, seemingly satisfied with the one little kiss, until your eyes land on his lap. Then at his paperwork, then at the door.

He cocks an eyebrow, curious.

Fuck. You slowly stride over to the door, battling with your choices, but decide you have no intention of leaving. 

“Wh–” Maverick sits up straight at the sound of the door locking, and then watches as you move towards the windows to start shutting the blinds all the way. “What are you doing?”

“I wanna try something,” you say confidently, like he already gave you permission.

“Try something?”

“Mhm.” You shut the last set, take a step back to make sure they’re all closed and then turn your attention to him again. “Blinds shut, door locked. I think you’ve left for the day.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. He drops his pen instead, tilting his head as he tries to figure out what it is you’re planning.

He sort of gets an idea when he notices your eyes scanning his side of the desk.

“Baby, I do have a lot of work to do.”

You smile. “And if I promise you won’t get your hands dirty? At all?”

Mav chuckles, shakes his head like it’s the most absurd idea he’s ever heard. It might be, you think, but it’s something you can pull off. The door is locked, after all.

“I think we’d be really stupid if we tried,” he admits, though his smile doesn’t falter.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you reiterate. “I just want to sit there. You can continue working.”

It’s like he opens his mouth to protest again, but then his lips press together instead, and he beckons you toward him with a nod like before.

Excitement fills you as he scoots his chair back to grant you access.

It’s hard to get on your knees in the cramped space underneath the desk, so you have to urge Mav to move his chair back with a gentle push to his legs. He complies, does his best to make as much room for you as he can. You find that you’re sort of shaky when your fingers pry at the button on his jeans, so he helps you with that, too. The position is slightly ridiculous, the chair a little higher than it should be, so you end up on your haunches when you pull his cock out of his briefs, and then sort of yank his garments down with your other hand for easier access. 

His eyes are still nervously peering at the closed blinds, making sure there aren’t any shapes or sounds coming from behind them, but you ease his worries when you take his shaft into your mouth. There’s no time to prolong this, so you get right to it; you take him in as much as you can, using a hand to stroke him at the same time. His knuckles are white from gripping the arms of his chair as he hardens in your mouth. Stifled groans leave his lips, filthy wet ones coming from yours. 

He throws his head back in silent satisfaction when you swirl your tongue around the tip, and accidentally groans out loud when you dip your head and trace your tongue down, and then back up his frenulum.

The noise he makes reminds you that you’re not supposed to make him cum here, that this is something different, and you pull back after a minute or so. Maverick is biting down hard on his lip, watches as you stand up off your haunches and immediately work your pants off. He shifts in his seat, positions himself as best he can for you.

With your pants completely off and kicked aside, you grab onto his shoulders and mount yourself atop his lap. Hovering above him, you reach down to grab him and line yourself up with him the best you can; usually he would do that for you but you did promise he wouldn’t have to get his hands dirty. 

“No moving,” you prompt, exhaling softly at the feel of his tip against your slit.

You whimper at the stretch—it stings just a little from lack of foreplay—but gradually sink onto him little by little. You let your body accommodate him, feel yourself growing wetter around him before you sink any lower. He tenses up, tries to minimize his reaction by gritting his teeth. The long groan that leaves his mouth is inevitable when you fully slip onto his lap, his cock buried inside you to the hilt. Christ, this is gonna be harder than you thought.

He seems to think so too, as his grip around your waist tightens slightly. “Sweetheart, I don’t—I don’t think this is such a good idea,” he groans.

“Just get back to work,” you whisper, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

His hands leave your waist to resume his task, but his breathing remains heavy near your ear. You relax into him, face buried in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. You’ve got your hug. This is all you wanted today.

Maverick scoots his chair forward as best he can, picks up his pen and shuffles through his papers. 

You try not to clench around him, a very difficult problem when he scoots forward slightly a second time, his balls rubbing up into your clit. You try to focus on something else, on his scent, past him at the frames on the wall, on the bits of light coming in through the blinds.

A minute passes.

Two minutes pass.

Three, and Mav still hasn’t touched pen to paper yet, clearly dazed by the situation. His eyes skim over the words he’s already written instead, trying to give his brain an idea on where to get started again. 

He wants to move very badly. It’s a terrible itch he needs to scratch.

He starts to think that this is maybe a form of torture. You try not to think much of it, try to pretend this is the hug you were here for, and it sort of works. Sort of. His cock prods at a very delicious spot inside you the more he begins to shift his hips, and it becomes harder and harder to stay still.

It’s when you hear his pen drop and roll across the desk that you realize Maverick is not so fond of your idea. Get back to work how, he must be thinking, and God, you hope he’s not frustrated that this whole ordeal probably just set him back. 

If he is, he doesn’t show it, instead wrapping his arms around you and inadvertently rolling his hips underneath you. You gasp, taken by sudden surprise, clasping a hand over your mouth when his hips jerk a second time.

“Mav,” you whisper. “I said—fuck, I said no moving.”

He scoffs, bows his head to lazily kiss at your collarbone. “You’re killing me. I’ll never go back to work like this.”

You bite back a moan. “I promised you wouldn’t get your hands dirty. I just wanted to sit he–”

He shuts you up with a sharp, fully intended snap of his hips. His arms drop to cup the bottom of your thighs, and neither of you care anymore after the first stroke. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room and it’s hard not to make any additional noise, suppressing your moans into little whines instead. Maverick starts fucking into you as if it were the first time, as if he’d never felt something so good before. 

Neither of you last very long.

Maverick’s thrusts get sloppy when you’re both seconds away, his tiring pace beginning to stumble. He’s smart enough to take you in for a deep kiss when you both cum at the same time, your quiet, high-pitched noises trapped in between your mouths. He continues kissing you through your unplanned orgasm, tongue licking against yours.

When he pulls back, you’re both panting heavily, savoring the glow. 

He helps you off of him eventually. Your legs are a little sore and shaky, and you clumsily stumble back against his desk. Maverick’s good reflexes prevent your fall, an arm around your waist, and you avoid landing on his messy stack of paperwork. You can’t help but snicker at how absurd this really was.

Maverick, on the other hand, has a smirk on his face at the sight of you propped over his desk.

[lenafromthenordiccoven]

Call Out Our Names - Bob x f!reader x Phoenix

(moodboard made by me, Top Gun Maverick screencaps by hd-screencaps, rest free-pik.com)

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x afab!reader x Natasha “Phoenix” Trace

Requested? yes

Rating: M – MDNI 18+

Word count: 3244

Warnings: why choose, threesome (FFM), oral (f!receiving), bi!reader, soft dom!Bob, definitely pleasure dom!Phoenix, Bob Floyd fucks, and so does Phoenix, fingering, unprotected PinV (be smart and wrap it, folks)

Summary: When your best friend, Mickey, invites you to come stay with him in San Diego for a bit, you didn’t expect that to lead you to meet two new people who would catch your eye immediately. Only problem is: you don’t think, they’re the sharing type. But maybe – just maybe – you’re wrong?

Read on ao3

Taglist: @high-speed-r

A/N: Thank you for sending in that lovely request, anon! Hope, you’ll enjoy what my brain cooked up. (Cause those two definitely have me in a constant state of bi panic) And I’m so sorry for the long wait 😭 Please accept my first humble offering to @attapullman’s International Bob Floyd Fucks month.

You didn’t quite know what to expect when Mickey had told you, you’d both be going to a BBQ at his former instructor’s home. In fact, you had no idea what to expect of your time in San Diego at all. Mickey, your best friend since kindergarten and WSO for the Navy, was now stationed permanently in San Diego for the foreseeable future and, thus, had invited you out to stay with him for a bit. “You can meet the squad and you can relax. Most importantly, relax. I know, you’ve probably been working yourself to the bone again,” he’d said.

And, though you would never admit it, he wasn’t wrong. Running an animal accessory boutique in Northern Cali, as well as volunteering at your local animal shelter and running the shelter’s social media accounts were more than enough to have you falling into your bed face first at the end of the day. But you’d also recently started remote classes for a degree in psychology and social services, trying to establish a program in your town that would bring together veterans and pets that needed foster homes or new, permanent homes. To say you were exhausted would be an understatement. You didn’t think, you’d ever get rid of the tiredness in your bones. So, while you felt guilty for going away at all, your boss at the shelter had urged you to take some time off. And then Mickey had offered his guest room.

And now you were standing in Captain Mitchell’s backyard, who’d introduced himself as Pete. “Although Maverick or Mav are both fine, too,” he’d joked given that most of the squad called him Mav now. Mickey had introduced you to everybody and while Hangman and Coyote had both flirted with you (after Mickey had made it clear that you were just friends), you couldn’t keep your eyes from wandering to Bob and Phoenix, both standing next to Rooster and Mav and helping with the BBQ.

You know, you’d caught their eyes wandering back to you multiple times by now. Especially since Bob was now sporting a blush that surely had little to do with the heat from the grill. But you had yet to exchange more than polite hellos with either of them – and you wanted to, badly.

“You can talk to them, you know,” Mickey said, nudging you with his elbow in your side when he caught your thousand-yard-stare.

You jumped slightly, brought back to reality by your best friend’s teasing hint. “I-I…? What?” you sputtered before opting to just keep your mouth shut entirely. He was right. You could go over there and introduce yourself. You wanted to, after all. But you were taken aback by the ferocity of your own desire.

“They don’t bite. Well, Nat might. But Bob usually doesn’t.”

You tear your gaze away from their backs – you were 99,9% sure, they should’ve felt your stare burning into their flesh anyway – and turn to look at your best friend. “You think? But—”

“No buts. Just go over there, talk to them and, most importantly, relax and have fun.” He gave you a little shove with his hand on the small of your back in the direction of the grill.

Phoenix saw you first, nodding at you before lightly tapping on Bob’s shoulder, so you’d have his attention as well. He turned around, the light blue eyes behind his gold-wire-rimmed glasses immediately locked onto yours and you could feel the heat creep up your own neck and into your cheeks.

“Y/N, right?” Phoenix asked and you nodded. “What’s up? Need us to save you from Bagman?”

You chuckled at the variation of Hangman’s callsign. Mickey hadn’t been able to tell you much from his last deployment, but he had told you why people called Hangman Hangman, or sometimes Bagman in Phoenix’s case. “Uh, no. Came over here to talk to the two of you, actually.” You nervously put a strand of hair back behind your right ear.

“You-you did?” Bob asked, his eyes now wide with surprise before he exchanged a quick look with Phoenix, who was now smiling at you like she knew how to read your thoughts and knew exactly what you had on your mind.

“Yeah, I did. I do.”

***

You still had no idea how you’d gone from talking and laughing with Phoenix and Bob in Mav’s backyard to now having Phoenix steal the breath from your lungs with a searing kiss as Bob tried to open his front door. You couldn’t help the whimper rising in your throat when you felt Phoenix’s thigh wedge itself between your legs and bump against your core.

You heard Bob groan next to you as the door finally gave way and the three of you tumbled inside. It didn’t take long for him to retake his spot behind you, the heat radiating off his body making you shiver. His hands drifted down your sides and to your hips as Phoenix’s came up to massage your breasts over your bra and shirt. You openly moaned against her mouth, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“Somebody’s sensitive,” Bob murmured against your ear. “You know,” he continued, gently taking your earlobe between his teeth and quickly tugging, “I’m not usually one for sharing. But I’ll make an exception this time. If you let me take the lead, Nat.”

Phoenix pulled back from the kiss, chuckling as you chased after her lips, having grown addicted to her taste after just a few minutes. “Can’t promise that, but I’ll try.”

“Fine by me. Now, let’s get ourselves to the bedroom, shall we?” Bob grumbled against your neck and you nodded furiously. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your core throbbed in time with your heartbeat. All you could think was desire, all you could feel was how their touches and kisses set your body ablaze even through your clothes. Fuck, this was definitely not what you’d envisioned when you’d accepted Mickey’s invitation. But it was so much better than what your brain could have ever come up with.

Somehow, the three of you had made it into Bob’s bedroom without falling, your bodies fused together and limbs tangled. It was a miracle, you thought, that you’d managed to take off your clothes at all. Leaving the three of you in just your underwear.

You licked your lips as your eyes raked over their forms, drawing a chuckle from Bob. “You like what you see, darlin’?” His eyes had darkened as his pupils had blown out with lust; Phoenix looked equally as hungry as you felt.

You nodded, your hands moving to cup him through his boxers. He groaned, snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you to him to press his lips against yours. You sighed against his lips, easily allowing him to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Then you felt Phoenix press her front against your back and nibble on your shoulder, her hands gripping your hips and guiding your movement as you rubbed against Bob’s thigh and crotch.

“Are you going to be a good girl for us, Y/N?” Phoenix whispered and you broke the kiss with Bob as you nodded.

“Yes, anything. I’ll do anything you want.” You’re pretty sure, your brain has actually stopped working as the only thing you cared about was the feeling of their bodies against yours, their touches, their kisses—the noises they made. So, you’re surprised, you can get any words out at all, let alone a full sentence.

“Eager, are we?” Bob mumbles, you blink up at him and barely catch the slightly smug smirk on his lips. The brief glimpse you got sent you reeling regardless, never having thought it possible for this softspoken, shy-looking man to be so dominant in the bedroom. Oh, you’d been wrong. So wrong. And you loved it. You’d forgotten what it was like to have somebody else make the decisions for you, to be able to just let yourself fall, relax and enjoy pleasure.

“Maybe just a little bit?” you replied in equally hushed tones. Your voice drifted off into a sigh when Phoenix’s fingers brushed your core over your soaked panties. Your head falls back against her shoulder.

She clicked her tongue at you. “You’ve ruined your panties, pretty girl. Soaked through them cause you want us so badly, hm?” You whimpered in response, her touch growing firmer, rubbing circles over your pubic mound, but the pressure wasn’t enough against your clit.

“What, can’t even answer us anymore? We’ve barely touched you, darlin’.” You squeezed your eyes shut and your thighs together, essentially trapping Phoenix’s hand between them at Bob’s words. Condescension and lust were dripping off his voice like honey—or drops of oil, only adding fuel to the flames of desire raging through your veins. You reached out your hands for the hem of his boxers, you managed to begin dragging them down over his hips. You slipped out of Phoenix’s grasp on your own hips and were about halfway to your knees in front of them before Bob stopped you by grabbing your wrists.

He shook his head at you, you blinked at him in response, wide-eyed. Had you done something wrong? The question must have been clearly written on your face because he shook his head again, gently cupped your jaw with one of his hands. His thumb stroked over the skin of your cheek and you leaned into the touch, your eyes fluttering closed at the touch. Bob cleared his throat and brought your gaze back to his face.

“Not that I’m not dyin’ to find out what your mouth feels like around my cock, we can do that another time.” Another time. You almost lost your mind at the implication of doing this again. And your mind was already tirelessly spinning out of control in the haze of lust and promised touches. Bob continued, “Why don’t you get on your knees on that bed, ass in the air and show Nat just how badly you wanna please us?”

You heard her groan above you at the implication and you nodded. At this point, you couldn’t give a single fuck anymore about how needy you’d come off to them. You needed them, wanted them, practically burned with the need to please them and have them take care of you in return. Your body should have turned to ashes by now with how hot you felt. However, despite the desire making your every motion feel hazy and inefficient, you managed to climb onto the bed. You hadn’t noticed Phoenix getting comfortable with her back propped up against the headboard. She reached out one of her hands for you and you took it, scooting up until you were almost kneeling in her lap.

“Come here,” she whispered and drew you in by your hand. The other landed on your neck and jaw. She pulled you ever closer, until your breasts brushed hers just as her lips captured yours in a honey-sweet kiss that did nothing to hide the hunger burning underneath her skin, too. You kissed her back, desperate now that you’d gotten a taste, and tried to deepen the kiss. But then you felt Bob’s hands come to rest on your hips, his thumbs drawing soothing circles onto your skin when you’d jumped at the unexpected contact.

Just as Bob pulled your hips and ass backwards and up towards him, Phoenix pushed you down with a hand on your shoulder until your upper body rested on the mattress between her legs. Your face was now eye-level with her bare pussy. When had she taken the time to take off her own panties? You barely had time to wonder, let alone voice the question, when Bob’s lips on your lower back drew a sigh and a shudder from you.

His lips briefly brushed the shell of your ear as he let almost the whole, delicious weight of his body rest on top of yours, and whispered: “Go on, don’t be shy. Show us what that pretty mouth of yours can do, darlin’.” You almost whined when he withdrew from your back again and the cool air of the bedroom hit your heated skin. He hooked his

“What are you going to do, Bob?” Phoenix asked, the gaze from her half-closed eyes was glued to yours. You could see no hesitation in them and decided to just try and see what her reaction would be. You leaned forward and gave her pussy a tentative kiss, your eyes never leaving her face. When you saw her eyelids flutter, you grew bolder, licked a stripe from her entrance to her clit and then closed your lips around the bud.

“Fuck, Y/N. Knew your mouth would feel good,” Phoenix breathed and slipped one of her hands into your hair on the back of your head. “Keep going, pretty girl. Treating me so well. Use your fingers.” You did as asked, kitten-licking her again. You were about to suck on her clit and slip your index finger into her entrance, when Bob gripped your ass with both his hands and pulled you back against his face. Your mouth fell open and you couldn’t hold back the moan bubbling up your throat as he mirrored your actions. With the difference that the two fingers he was slipping inside of you felt deliciously thicker than your own, now pumping in and out Phoenix at a slow, cautious rhythm while you were figuring out what she liked.

Phoenix’s hand tightened in your hair, her fingertips digging into your skin as you kept going, moaning against her own slick core. You could feel her walls clench down on your fingers as you hooked them and brushed against the sweet spot. She let her head sink back against the headboard and a moan tumbled from her lips; the sound made your heart soar and your chest swell with pride.

“Fuck. You’re seriously missing out, Bobby,” Phoenix said, her voice breathless. And you saw her chest heave with every breath. You could hear Bob chuckle behind you.

“I believe you, Nat. But I’ve got a gorgeous little pussy over here, beggin’ for my attention.” He pressed another kiss to one of your ass cheeks, then he brushed his thumb over your clit, practically strumming the bundle of nerves as if he was trying out the feel and sound of a new guitar. You moaned against Phoenix again, letting your head fall away from her core.

You whimpered, felt your own release approach quickly while Phoenix’s walls pulsed around your fingers. “Please, Bob. I need you. Need to feel you.”

Bob didn’t stop his ministrations; instead, he put his free hand on your back, right in the middle of your shoulder blades and pushed you back down towards Phoenix. “I know, baby. We’ve got you, I promise. Just need you to come on my fingers first, can you do that for us, hm?” His weight was back against your back and you felt him press a kiss against the spot where your neck joined your shoulder.

You nodded, his weight on top of you and Phoenix’s hand that had now slipped from the back of your head to cup your cheek felt like the only things still anchoring you to this world. Otherwise, you were sure, you would fully lost yourself to the stream of pleasure. Phoenix whispering your praises and Bob encouraging you to keep eating her out and pumping your fingers in and out of her, had you clenching around his in your core. The tingling started in your toes and you hadn’t realized, you were curling them up until pleasure shot up your legs and spine to flare out through the rest of your body. Just as Phoenix sighed your name with a satisfied smile on her lips and her thighs clamped down over your ears, muffling any other sounds.

You came up, gasping for air, just as you could feel Bob nudge the head of his thick cock against your entrance. Phoenix drew you up and towards her to press her lips against yours in a kiss of gratitude. You gasped against her as Bob slowly pushed inside of you. One of his big hands was gently rubbing circles on your back, Phoenix reached down to your breasts. She grinned against your lips, you’d almost call it a smirk if you weren’t so lost in the way Bob’s cock was stretching you. Then, Phoenix took one of your lips between her fingers, only rolling it gently at first, before she gave it a quick, sharp twist. Something between a gasp and a moan escaped your mouth and you felt her chuckle more than you heard her. Your own heartbeat was too loud in your ears.

Bob quickly set a delicious pace of quick thrusts, never fully pulling out of your pussy or lifting his chest off your back. You faintly heard him groan against your ear, felt his breath leave his mouth in short pants against your skin. “Fuck, Y/N. You feel fucking heavenly. Takin’ me so well.”

“Faster, please. N-need you to go faster.” You had no idea how you’d managed to get the words out, let alone string together two whole sentences in the same instance. Your heart was pounding in your chest, hammering so hard against your ribcage, you thought, it was either going to burst or break through your ribs. Bob complied, moaning loudly as he felt your walls clench in response.

“I know, you’re close, darlin’. Come on. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” You maned at his words. But when you felt Phoenix shift slightly underneath you, then her fingers rubbing tight circles against your clit, you couldn’t hold back the scream any longer. Pleasure erupted inside you, the coil that had tightened in your belly finally snapping. You faintly heard Bob ask, if he could come inside you and you don’t know how you’d responded with a “Yes” loud enough for him to hear. He groaned, before mouthing at your neck and shoulder as his perfect rhythm faltered and his lips ultimately stilled inside you.

The two of you practically collapsed on top of Phoenix, your legs and arms no longer able to support both your weight as you desperately sucked air into your lungs. You heard her giggle underneath you and felt your lips stretch into a tired, fucked-out smile.

“That was…incredible.”

“Agreed. Now, let’s get ourselves cleaned up and cozy, shall we?” Phoenix asked. Bob only mumbled something you couldn’t quite understand beyond the ringing in your ears finally, slowly, subsiding.

You felt him pull out and whined at the sudden feeling of emptiness, your own limbs too heavy with exhaustion and the afterglow of pleasure to keep him on top of you. You had no idea how you formed the words leaving your lips next. “Can we…do this again, sometime?”

And you barely caught their affirmative responses as you tried your hardest not to drift off to sleep already. Damn it, Mickey had been right. This had been fun. And you never would have guessed, his invitation to stay with him for a couple days ever leading to anything like this. But you also weren’t about to complain. No, never that. Meeting Bob and Phoenix had been a godsent and you hoped, you could hold onto them in the future.

[callsignthirsty]

OMG THIRSTY YOUR SUGGESTION BOX IS OPEN UMMM, first of all hi I love you, second I was thinking maybe a maverick x femPILOTreader can (her call sign be avalanche?) were they are a thing that only goose and carol know about, but not really just “casual sex” in mavs words, then ice starts flirting HARD with the reader and mav gets jealous and makes a big scene and they end up breaking up over it (cause maverick is too hard headed) and he regrets it forever but says nothing (that man won’t swallow his pride) and maybe a time skip to top gun maverick? Where he and the reader are called back together to train the team (is this too much?), I think it’d be cute to see mav fall in love all over again (not really cause he never forgot her) with her and be together in the end. Bonus points if she is like an aunt to rooster cause she was also good friends with the Bradshaws. I don’t know if it’s something you’d like to write or if it’s really not up your alley. Sorry if it’s a mess not good at explaining my self, anyway I hope you have a lovely day ❤️❤️❤️

Hey there @i-wear-wet-socks313 — Thanks for sending in your suggestion. There was a lot to unpack with this one, so I hope you don’t mind that I shortened it a little bit by breezing over the events of the first movie. That said: it’s still fixing to be about 10k by the time I get around to publishing part 2 (yeah, that’s right, I had to break it into two parts!) But what can I say? Your suggestion definitely smacked me upside the head (and I liked it)! Be on the lookout for part two in the coming week or two ❤️

Pairing: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x F!Pilot!Reader (call sign: Avalanche) Word Count: 7500 Warnings: Canon character death (x2), language, a general glossing over of movie events, the author knowing nothing about the Navy or aviation smut coming in part 2 Minors DNI

Call Sign: Avalanche

You hadn't kept in touch with Iceman since graduating from Top Gun. Honestly, you hadn't kept in touch with any of your classmates — it had been easiest to cut all ties. Despite this, you'd have had to be exceptionally observant not to notice the Iceman's rise within the ranks. Not that you hadn't done well for yourself but you were no Commander of the Pacific Fleet. So when Admiral Kazansky put in the call to have you transferred to North Island for a special assignment, you were flattered. Really. You figured that Iceman's recommending you for the job spoke to his appreciation for your shared craft and his belief that you could train the squad to do what needed to be done.

The good feelings last until you learn who you'll be expected to teach alongside.

Maverick.

That's when you see this assignment for what it is: a cruel joke.

Like Iceman, you haven't seen Maverick since your joint graduation ceremony in '85. Unlike Iceman, you actively worked to avoid Maverick. Because it was just your luck that you'd have a history with the Navy's best pilot.

You'd dated for months, though neither of you was brave enough to put words to it. Carole was, though. Date. Relationship. Love. Any time she mentioned it, your cheeks would flame, Maverick would awkwardly look away, and Goose would pull her into a hug, kissing her until she giggled and the topic was changed.

Those were the days. And in a kinder world, things would've stayed like that forever. Instead, Iceman had unintentionally swooped in and blown your good thing to shit.

But even you could admit that it wasn't entirely Iceman's fault. As much as you liked Maverick, you knew that you had to keep your relationship under wraps. Though the Navy allowed women within their ranks, getting the opportunity to become one of the first female naval aviators was still a hard-won privilege and one that you didn't take lightly. The last thing you wanted was for someone to call you out for fraternization and jeopardize your job. And though you looked at Maverick as if he'd hung the moon just for you, you knew that few others within the Navy viewed his endeavors — and you knew they'd consider you, an endeavor — similarly.

But as hard as you'd tried in the beginning, you hadn't been able to stop Maverick from worming his way into your affections. And, it appeared, your efforts were similarly wasted on Iceman.

When you first met Ice, you'd suspected he was a dime-a-dozen. Tall and confident and by the rules. Until you saw him fly. You had an ego like the other pilots who made it to Top Gun, but you, at least, knew when you were beaten. And Iceman had all of you beat. Well, except for Maverick. That appreciation, however, must have been misconstrued. Somewhere along the line, Iceman had gotten it in his head that sliding into the seat next to you at the O Club and flagging the bartender down to grab you a drink was a good idea. You hadn't known he was interested until it was already too late.

You couldn't even remember the words that blew your world to pieces. Only knew that Maverick had his hand around your arm, your drink spilled all down the front of your khakis as he'd hissed and spit until he was red in the face. "You want to fuck Kazansky. Fine. I won't stand in your way."

"Pete."

"I'm done." And he'd gotten on his bike and driven away.

It had been the end of your relationship but the beginning of Maverick's downward spiral.

Goose died the next day.

Maverick turned in his wings.

Iceman won the Top Gun trophy.

Maverick was called away to the USS Enterprise right after the graduation ceremony.

You were long gone before he came back.

But here he is. Strolling into the briefing late, clad in his dad's jacket and old jeans. His brows draw down in confusion when his eyes land on you, his head tilting. Assessing.

At least he hadn't been expecting you, either. Neither of you had the advantage.

"Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell." Cyclone draws Maverick's attention to himself, sitting behind his desk. "Your reputation precedes you."

"Thank you, sir."

Cyclone's frown deepens. "Wasn't a compliment." It does little to humble the smile on Maverick's face, so Cyclone goes on to introduce himself, Warlock, and yourself, though, from the casual greeting they shoot each other, you gather that he and Warlock have met before.

With little delay, Warlock goes on to outline the mission. "The target is an unsanctioned uranium enrichment plant built in violation of a multilateral NATO treaty. The uranium produced there represents a direct threat to our allies in the region. The Pentagon has tasked us with assembling a strike team and taking it out before it becomes fully operational."

Warlock goes through his slides. The plant is in an underground bunker at the end of a GPS-jammed valley guarded by an extensive surface-to-air missile array and fifth-generation fighters. "Which, in turn," Warlock continues with another click to zoom in on an aerial view of the nearby airstrip, "are backed up by a plentiful reserve of surplus aircraft. Even a few F-14s."

"Seems like we're not the only ones holding onto old relics." You'd have taken Cyclone's words personally if they hadn't been meant as a blatant attack on Maverick. As it is, Maverick ducks his head as if the shot at him is expected.

"What's your read, Captain?" Warlock breaks the stalemate.

Maverick looks at you briefly before clearing his throat and approaching the projector. You follow along in your own hastily scribbled notes as Maverick talks through the possibilities. GPS-jamming means F-35s are a no-go. The low-level laser-guided strike is about as tailor-made for the F-18 as a mission can get. Two precision bombs. Four aircraft flying in pairs. High potential for g-loc on the way out and a dogfight all the way home. But it can be done. Supposedly.

"It's been a while since I've flown an F-18, and I'm not sure who I'd trust to fly the other three, but I'll find a way to make it work."

And then Cyclone hits you with the twist: "We don't want you to fly it. We want you to teach it."

Twelve Top Gun graduates have been recalled for the special detachment. Among them: Bradley. You can pinpoint the moment Maverick sees Bradley on the board, and you almost feel bad, but Maverick had brought this upon himself. You'd been there to pick Bradley up after Maverick pulled his papers to the Naval Academy. Had jumped in your car and floored it to the Bradshaw residence to hold the boy — now a young man — as he'd sobbed fat, angry tears.

That doesn't mean you don't wince when Cyclone sticks his fingers into the open wound that will evermore be Goose. "Tragic what happened." Even you want to smack the Vice Admiral for that.

But if Maverick has the plan and Maverick is expected to teach the graduates… "Admiral Simpson," you say, breaking your silence as you close your notepad, "I fail to see why I'm needed for this detachment if Captain Mitchell has the planning and training under control." Professional. To the point. "So if you don't need me…." You stand and make for the door. The sooner you can slip away, back to your life without Maverick, the better.

"Not so fast," Cyclone interrupts your exit and leans forward against his desk. "Let me be perfectly blunt. You–" you turn to find him pointing a stern finger at Maverick "–were not my first choice. In fact, you weren't even on the list. You are here because of Admiral Kazansky. Now, Iceman happens to be a man I deeply admire, and he seems to think that you have something left to offer the Navy. What that is, I can't imagine. And he has assured me that you–" Cyclone's steely green eyes lock on you "–can keep him in check."

Well, isn't that rich? "With all due respect, Cyclone, I'm an Admiral for the United States Navy, not a babysitter."

"Well, for the purposes of this mission, it would appear that you are both." He tosses a file onto his desk, and you glare at it. Not only does Cyclone outrank you, but the orders technically come from the Commander of the Pacific Fleet. You could say 'no' and walk away, but unless you're officially dismissed, it's a career-limiting — possibly career-ending — move. Ultimately, you walk back to the desk to pick up the file and stack it on your notepad.

Satisfied, Cyclone turns his attention back to Maverick. "You don't have to take this job, but let me be clear: this will be your last post, Captain. You fly for Top Gun, or you never fly for the Navy ever again."

That night, as you pour over the mission file, you wonder what Kazansky is up to. There's no way he put you, Maverick, and Bradley all in the same place over a mid-life power trip. But you can't figure out what he's out to accomplish for your life.

— — —

Warlock introduces you and Maverick to the twelve graduates. Well, eleven — you both know Bradley. Cyclone is beside himself when Maverick throws away the F-18 NATOPS and shoots you a look, but what does he expect you to do? Fish it out of the trash? This is Kazansky's circus. He can fish the NATOPS out of the trash.

Bradley catches up to you as everyone disperses to get changed into their g-suits for the day's hops. "Why the hell is he here?" he asks, voice low but venom clear in his tone.

"Iceman."

"Figures." Bradley's lips pull into a tight line. "So, what do we do?"

You sigh, exhausted, and the day has only begun. "What we do best, baby bird. Fly."

Frustratingly, Maverick's just as good as you remember him. Better, even. The fire of his youth still there but tempered marginally by time. And you hate to admit it, but you're rusty. No one told you when you joined the Navy that the higher you climbed the ladder, the further you'd get from the sky. You're shot down once by Hangman — which you're sure he'll brag about later at the bar — but Maverick is untouchable.

You're already on the ground when Bradley touches down to do his own pushups. Once your arms have turned to jelly, you let Hondo go with a promise to count the rest for Bradley.

"I told you to fly, not lose your shit," you say once Hondo has walked far enough away to give you the illusion of privacy. Bradley glares at you before returning to his pushups, sweat dripping off his nose and onto the tarmac. "When you let him get to you like that, you give him the edge."

"What does it matter?" Bradley says, taking a seat and looking up at you for the first time since he was thirteen. "He's going to wash me out."

"I won't let him."

Bradley shakes his head. "Don't."

"I won't."

"Well, you couldn't stop him last time." And that's not fair. You weren't the one who'd pulled Bradley's papers. You hadn't even known until the deed had been done. Until Bradley was asking if he could stay with you for a while, and you insisted on driving to him. The same night Maverick's name had become a dirty word to both of you.

You do your best to keep the hurt off of your face. Bradley isn't mad at you; he's stressed and lashing out. But on base, you're still his superior officer. "The four best pilots will be on the mission. Whether that includes you or not, Rooster, is up to you. But it won't if you keep flying like that." You leave when your phone buzzes with a message to meet at Cyclone's office in — you check the time — ten minutes.

— — —

It's cathartic, you decide, to watch someone else lose their shit on Maverick. Unfortunately for Cyclone, though, this is one of the rare times that Maverick's rule-breaking has a defensible reason behind it.

"The hard deck will be much lower for the mission, sir," Maverick responds at your side.

"And it will not change without my approval!" Cyclone snaps. "Especially not in the middle of an exercise. And that cobra maneuver of yours? That could've gotten all four of you killed. I never want to see that shit again." All you do is shrug when Cyclone's stare focuses on you. You aren't sure what Iceman told Cyclone to make him think you could make Maverick behave, but you're not sure what you're supposed to do when you haven't spoken to the man in nearly forty years.

And then they're off again: Cyclone and Maverick. Oil and water.

"You have less than three weeks to teach them how to fight as a team and how to strike the target," Cyclone says, and he looks like he's ready to wave a hand, dismiss you all for the day, and pour himself four fingers of whiskey.

"And how to come home." Your head snaps to Maverick. His lips are parted as if he wants to say something else, but the words must escape him because instead, he repeats: "And how to come home, sir."

You try to swallow, but your throat is dry like sandpaper. Eyes wide, you stare at Cyclone. Coming home had never been a part of the training plan. This — Maverick is the first person to mention bringing the team home. A pit settles in your stomach as the realization of what you've been assigned to hits.

A suicide mission.

You're sending six people into enemy territory to die. Less, if you're lucky, but not everyone is coming home.

Cyclone chooses his next words carefully — "Every mission has its risks." — but they do nothing to settle you. Your blood is on fire, and you're simultaneously hot and cold, an icy sweat breaking out across your temples. "These pilots accept that."

"I don't, sir." Maverick's statement settles around you like a well-worn quilt. You shiver, despite yourself as a part of you that you'd believe to be long-dead flickers back to life. Because at that moment, in those words, you know that Maverick will do everything in his power to ensure everyone comes home. It feels like hope. Like trust. Clumsy fingers pull the feeling tighter around you.

"Every morning," Cyclone breaks the silence, "you will brief us on your instructional plans in writing. And nothing will change without my express approval."

"Including the hard deck, sir?" You're running through a plan to get all the paperwork together to lower the hard deck as soon as the question is past Maverick's lips because, much to your chagrin, Maverick is correct, and you should all be flying much lower to properly prepare.

"Especially the hard deck, Captain."

Without skipping a beat, Maverick hands a manila file over the desk to Cyclone. "Sir." And it appears that years of getting on Admirals' bad sides have prepared Maverick for this exact moment. You have to fight the twitch threatening to bring your lips up at the thought that Maverick knew he was going to break the hard deck and had come prepared with the paperwork already filled out.

When you regroup the next day, the hard deck sits much lower.

In two-plane teams, the graduates take turns flying the simulated course on their nav systems. And because you're going easy on them, they have both extra time and a higher ceiling than they'll have when they fly the actual mission. Even with these allowances, no one can make it to the end of the course. Except for Bradley, but he'd flown too slow despite Yale's insistence that they would be late.

As Maverick and Rooster argue over whether or not running the course in four minutes would be a death sentence, you can see the graduates' faces drop as they come to the same conclusion you'd come to in Cyclone's office: that this mission might not be doable.

"That's no time to be thinking about the past," Hangman says as if he couldn't stand that Bradley's ire had been aimed at anyone else.

Bradley's head whips to Hangman. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Something about this screams danger, but Maverick is frozen to the spot. "Rooster," you say, hoping you can get in front of this; calm Bradley before Hangman can dig his nails in and give him a shake.

Hangman leans back against his seat, a smile curling his lips. "I can't be the only one that knows that Maverick flew with his old man."

"That's enough." Maverick finally snaps out of whatever had held him silent before, but Hangman is undeterred.

"Or that Maverick was flying when his old man–"

"Lieutenant," you bark, "that's enough!" But it's too little too late. The fuse must have been lit before you and Maverick had been on the scene because Bradley is suddenly out of his seat, other graduates clamoring to their feet to grab him or push Hangman out of his reach.

Maverick throws himself into the middle, ordering each man to stand down while Bradley snarls, "You son of a bitch!"

When you get a hand on Hangman's shoulder, he shoots you a self-assured smile. "He's not cut out for this mission."

You shove him away from Bradley. "Walk."

Hangman's pale eyes land on Rooster. "You know it."

"I said walk, Lieutenant." You give Hangman another shove for good measure, and his feet finally begin to carry him away from the situation, but not before his eyes lock on Maverick's over his shoulder.

"You know I'm right."

Back in the hangar, Maverick dismisses the class. You march Hangman to an empty classroom to reprimand his piss-poor behavior. Hangman nods in all the right places, but you doubt any of your scoldings get through to him.

— — —

Getting all the graduates on the same page calls for a new strategy. They can fly the course on their navs until they're blue in the face, but it won't bring them closer together. Won't keep Hangman from leaving his wingman out to dry or light a fire under Bradley's ass. With a few ideas in mind, you arrive at the hangar early, hoping you can snag Warlock and go over some of your ideas before seeking approval from Cyclone.

Instead, you find Maverick.

"You're a bit early," you say as you take a seat atop one of the desks in the back row. And underdressed. It seems that he hasn't updated his wardrobe since the '80s. Instead of khakis, Maverick must have walked onto base today in his jeans and an old, white t-shirt.

Maverick jumps a little bit, then erases an errant mark on the whiteboard with the hem of his shirt and returns to what he was writing. "Yeah," he agrees. "Wanted to get here before everyone else."

Clearly. "And what's that?" you ask, gesturing at the board.

"Oh." Maverick stands back and taps at the board. "New plan for the day. I'd have talked with you about it, but…." He doesn't have your number.

Class on the beach.

Meet at The Hard Deck.

Wear civvies.

"What's at the beach?"

"Dogfight football," he says as if that explains everything.

You cross your arms. "This isn't volleyball all over again, is it?"

"No." Maverick shakes his head with a fond smile crinkling his eyes. “No, this is teambuilding.”

"Ah," you play along and nod as if that clears everything up. "I think that's exactly what Viper called it when he sent us to the volleyball court." More like when Jester had chucked the volleyball at Maverick's head, and Viper ordered he and Iceman get their posturing bullshit over with. They hadn't, of course, but it had been worth a try.

"He did, didn't he?" Before he can start fiddling with the whiteboard marker, Maverick caps it and sets it down. You wonder if he's thinking about it, too. The long summer days. How the sun beat down on all of you until your shoulders were red. Goose. "Let's hope this goes better, then."

When you arrive at the beach, Hondo's already there with two nerf footballs in his hands and a referee whistle around his neck. Maverick's bike is in the parking lot, but you don't see him when you scan the beach.

"Avalanche."

"Hondo."

"Anything I can help you with, ma'am?" Hondo shifts his weight from one foot to the other in the sand. Maybe Maverick had told him about your history, maybe he hadn't, but the two seem close enough. Whatever he does or doesn't know, Hondo doesn't let it come between your professional relationship.

"Just trying to figure out what dogfight football is."

The idea is all Maverick's, but the concept is pretty simple. Offense and defense at the same time. Score by running your ball into the opposing team's endzone before they run their ball into yours. Stop the other team from advancing by grounding their ball.

As Hondo gets into the hastily made-up rules, Maverick comes down from the bar, jeans rolled up to just below his knees and dragging a cooler behind himself. "You made it," he greets you, his movie star smile warm like the sun as the sea breeze tousles his hair.

"What's in the box?" you ask, hiding behind the question and your aviators. Instead of answering, Maverick opens the lid to reveal a multitude of cans. "Beer? On the job?"

"There's water in there, too," Maverick says, digging through the ice until he uncovers a water bottle and hands it to you. You drop the bottle back into the ice with a crunch. "The class on their way?" he asks as he closes the cooler.

"I'm not sure." So you fish your phone out of your pocket and send Bradley a quick text to make sure he's on his way with the others. Truthfully, you hadn't stuck around long enough to be sure. Had simply added your own note below Maverick's before leaving yourself.

Erase after reading.

The class shows up, and shirts come off. You fight to keep your eyes on Hondo as he separates you into teams. For someone pushing sixty, Maverick looks good. Trim waist, toned arms–

"Avalanche." Your attention snaps to Hondo as he motions you to the left. "Orange team."

After a quick huddle, both teams line up. Maverick and Bradley against you and Hangman. You don't have enough time to overthink it when Hondo blows the whistle, and you all take off at the snap.

By the time you stumble to the cooler for some water, you've lost track of the score. Hondo might know, but you doubt it. Laughter rang out from the group as Phoenix brought Fanboy down to the sand. Count on Maverick to succeed where others have failed.

"Looks like your plan worked," you call out as Maverick makes his way over to you, jeans wet and sandy from all the times he'd been knocked into the surf, aviators crooked on his face. You get off the cooler to grab him a water bottle as he sits in the nearby chair and pulls his shirt back on. When you turn around, he's beaming.

"Get him!" Halo screams, and you and Maverick look to where Hondo has intercepted a pass. He looks between the ball and WSO as if he's surprised before he runs, but he doesn't get far before — regardless of which team they're on — the aviators jump on him like a bunch of puppies. Screaming and laughing and wiggling as they bring Hondo to the sand. A laugh escapes you, and suddenly you and Maverick are laughing together. It feels good to laugh with him again.

Not even Cyclone's shadow can dim your shine, but Maverick does peak at him over his sunglasses. "Sir?"

"What is this?" Cyclone asks as everyone sets up again, none the wiser to Cyclone observing from the sideline.

"This–" Maverick gestures to the surf "–is dogfight football."

"Offense and defense at the same time," you say once you take a sip from your water bottle.

Ever critical, Cyclone asks: "Who's winning?"

"I think they stopped keeping score a while ago," Maverick says, his own water bottle crinkling as he drains it.

"This detachment still has some training to complete, Captain." His words are said to Maverick, but they're directed at both of you. Cyclone shooting you a look that says he expected you to do more to keep Maverick on Cyclone's track than go along willingly when he decides to play hooky. And maybe it's because this is the most fun you've had in years, but you'll readily admit that Maverick's plan had worked better than anything you'd wanted to run by Warlock. "Every available minute matters. So why are we out here playing games?"

Bob scores a touchdown, and Bradley lifts him onto his shoulders. Bob raises the ball above his head as the rest of the squad mills about them and chants, "Bob! Bob! Bob!"

"It's a teambuilding exercise, sir," you say, catching Maverick's surprised look out of the corner of your eye. "You asked him to create a team. There it is."

The three of you watch as the group runs into the ocean to cool off, only Hondo appears to be aware of their spectator, but Maverick raises a hand in his direction as if to let Hondo know that you have it handled.

"I expect them to be ready to fly tomorrow." By the time the graduates fish themselves out of the surf, Cyclone is long gone. And as they begin to walk around The Hard Deck with the promise of food and a few rounds of pool, Maverick's eyes find yours through your sunglasses.

"Well," Maverick sighs, hands clapping against his thighs, but he doesn't make to stand up. "I've gotta see if Penny will take some of these beers back."

You nod, dusting sand from your legs and shaking your shirt before pulling it over your head. "Make sure they drink some water," you say because you remember what it was like to be young and in the Navy. "I don't want Cyclone on our asses about them being hungover tomorrow."

"You heading out?" He rises to meet you.

"Yeah." You pat down your pockets to make sure that you have your keys. "It's about that time."

"Stick around," Maverick says when your keys jingle in your pocket. "Penny makes a mean burger."

Mean might be an exaggeration, but it turns out that Penny's burgers are pretty good. You hadn't expected much from a Navy bar, but credit where it's due and all that. By the time Maverick finds you at your booth, he's returned all but two of his beers and passes one of them to you. "I'd have gotten you a glass, but I already paid for these, so…" he trails off, and now that you can see his eyes, he looks uncomfortable standing at the end of your booth.

Maybe you're still running on the endorphins from your teambuilding exercise, or your newly blossoming trust is making you do some weird shit, but you decide to accept the can that Maverick offers you. You crack it open and take a sip, nodding to the bench across from you. Maverick jumps at the chance and slides onto the seat, his elbows resting on the table as he takes a gulp of his beer.

"So," you say, not entirely sure where to start with how long it's been since you've willingly engaged in a conversation with Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, but you're in a mood to humor him, "still a Captain, huh?"

Maverick chuckles. "A highly decorated Captain." It sounds like he's been saying it for years.

The conversation is stilted. Strictly professional. But it's more than you've been willing to give Maverick in years. The conversation is shot dead when the jukebox is unplugged, and Maverick gets a faraway look on his face as Bradley begins tickling at the piano keys. Before long, the rest of the bar is scream-singing Great Balls of Fire along with him, but your silence stretches even after Bradley moves on to the next song. And the next.

Your anger rises with each change of the keys. Finally, you can't take the silence any longer. "It was wrong what you did." It's the least of what you've wanted to say to him for years.

"I did what I had to."

"Bullshit," you grit. You see red. Because who the fuck did — does — Maverick think he is? "You had no right–"

"Carole asked me to do it." He says it so softly that you almost miss it between the clack of the pool table and din of conversation. Of all the defenses you'd been expecting, all the excuses you'd imagined over the years, you'd never…

"What?"

"She– Well, she–" he stumbles over his words. A couple non-starters until he can finally spit it out with a careful look in Bradley's direction. "She never wanted him to fly. Not after what happened to Goose." So there it was. What you'd always assumed was Maverick's own selfish reason for keeping his best friend's son from flying.

But it wasn't his selfish reason. Fuck! You stared into your can, the carbonation fizzing against the thin metal until you could feel it beneath your fingers.

Fuck. You'd had Maverick wrong for years. Bradley had him wrong.

Maverick clears his throat when you don't have anything to say to his overdue confession. "She made me promise before she died."

"How long?"

"The next day," Maverick gives you a sad little smile.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

You still hate it, but you begrudgingly get it now. Years later. Maverick hadn't wanted to pull Rooster's papers. Carole had put him in an impossible position. "You could've lied." You hate to even offer it up. It feels wrong the second the suggestion slips past your lips. Who lies to their friend on the deathbed? But Carole wouldn't have known. She could have died in peace, and Bradley would've been none the wiser.

"I couldn't bring myself to tell her, then…" he shakes his head. "Anyway, I knew Bradley would fly." He gestures across the table at you. "Knew you'd be there to help him get back on track."

But something about all of this still doesn't sit right with you. "Why not just tell him?" You abandon your beer and lean across the table, catching Maverick's downcast eyes. "He's… It would've hurt in the moment, but you've had years." An urge seizes you, and you have to fight every instinct in your body telling you to reach across the table. To cradle Maverick's hand in your own and rub some comfort into the old bones beneath tan skin. "You have to know by now that he'd have understood." That he'd still understand. He'd be angry, but he'd understand.

For all that you were the wind in Bradley's sails after their falling out, you knew you'd always be a piss poor replacement for Bradley's Uncle Mav. God, you wished Goose was there to knock some sense into him.

Maverick takes another sip of his beer, his gaze on Bradley, surrounded by his teammates by the piano. "It's better this way," he says. "I'd rather him hate me than resent her."

"You're an idiot if you think Bradley ever could've hated Carole."

A smile tugs at the corner of Maverick's lip, but his dimples don't pop. "No one ever accused me of being smart."

— — —

You and Maverick play the role of intercepting fifth-gen fighters while the graduates practice the course at speed and attempt to hit an old refrigerator in the middle of the desert meant to simulate the underground bunker.

The day doesn't go as planned.

It starts with several unsuccessful runs, then Coyote going into g-loc, followed by a bird strike that forces Phoenix and Bob to eject. Your hands, steady in the cockpit, shake once you touch down while you try to keep your mind from spiraling. You try to do simple math in your head, and when that isn't distracting enough, you force yourself to look at the positives: Coyote is fine; Phoenix and Bob punched out, their parachutes deployed, and a helicopter is picking probably picking them up right now; Bradley hadn't been in the air.

Bradley.

Thinking about your baby bird makes your breath catch. Heart beating in your throat. How was he handling all of this? Had he watched them punch out? Had he ever–?

Before you can go to him, Maverick is there. "Hey," he says with a hand on your shoulder, and you don't brush it off. The touch is grounding. It's the only thing keeping you from entering a flat spin. "Are you okay?" All you can think is that you should be asking him that. What you muster is a nod. It's been a while since you've been in the air when something had gone wrong, and your mind keeps circling back to Goose. Maverick's eyes study yours before he ushers you toward the building. He asks you to wait before disappearing into the men's locker room and returning with a manilla folder. "Think you can bring Cyclone tomorrow's lesson plan?"

You accept the folder, looking at the thick card stock in your hands. "Where're you going?"

Hesitation and desperation war in his eyes. "Rooster." Ah. Yeah. That makes sense. You want to go after Bradley yourself, but Maverick needs it.

You swallow to wet your dry throat. "Yeah," you croak. "Good. Yeah. I'll make sure he gets it."

Maverick's hand squeezes your shoulder. "Thank you." Then he's gone down the hallway, peering through windows as he goes.

But bad news always comes in threes.

The call comes in while you're defending Maverick's lesson plan.

You hadn't even known that Iceman was sick.

Warlock offers his condolences to Cyclone, then dips out of the room to find Maverick and deliver the news. Seconds later, footsteps hurry past the door and out of the base. A door slamming as the rumble of a bike disappears into the distance.

You stand with your old Top Gun class at the service. Well, the ones who had been able to show up. Slider. Hollywood and Wolfman. Viper.

Ron had tried to get approval to fly one of the jets overhead, but his request had been denied, which, you thought, eying his hands as they shook during the eulogy, was probably for the best. After the service, the five of you grab a drink for old time's sake, and Viper pours one out for your fallen comrade. Maverick doesn't join.

But when it rains, it pours.

An email is all the warning you get that Cyclone is taking over the mission. Maverick's career as a naval aviator is over, but yours isn't. You're expected to stay on. Without Iceman to fight for him, Maverick is grounded. All over the world, you're sure, admirals and air bosses were breathing a collective sigh of relief — but to your surprise, you weren't among them.

For the first time since joining the Navy — with his best friend gone and his career at large buried alongside his wingman — Maverick is well and truly on his own.

Everyone is given a day off to mourn and collect themselves while Cyclone develops a new game plan.

New orders come through the following day. You arrive on base early and are briefed on the latest mission parameters, but they make you feel like you've swallowed lead. It's a feeling you can't shake while you change into your flight suit, a voice in your ear buzzing that you're sending your team off to an early grave. You're on your way to run through preflight to fly an example of Cyclone's plan when you swear you see Maverick out of the corner of your eye.

You squint through the early morning sun. "Maverick?" He puts a finger to his lips and waves you over, and with a quick look around, you go to him. When you're close enough, he pulls you into the shadow of the hangar he's hiding behind so neither of you will be seen by officers about their dailies. "What are you doing here?" you ask, quiet this time. "Cyclone said that you were done."

"Yeah," Maverick said, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "I'm sure he'd like to believe that."

"I don't like that look." But you're smiling.

"A lot of people 've been saying that lately." He smiles back. Then: "I'm going to steal a jet."

"Come again?"

Maverick holds his hands up to calm you down. You must've been loud in your surprise because he's looking around the tarmac like he expects to be found out any second now. "The only way they come home is the way we've been teaching them," he says, and it's truth. You both know it. The squad knows it. Cyclone knows it.

Every mission has its risks. These pilots accept that.

"I won't drag you down with me, but if you could just — I don't know — distract the ground crew while I climb into one of the F/A-18s, I'll deny that you had any part in–"

You hand Maverick your helmet. "Take mine."

"What?"

"I'm set to fly the course in–" you check your watch "–at the top of the hour." With your helmet in Maverick's hands, you begin loosening the strap that fits under your chin so it'll go on easier for him. "Keep your head down and use signals during preflight or you won't make it off the ground."

"Avalanche–"

"Cyclone doesn't think it can be flown, but it can," you say and place your hands on Maverick's shoulders. "Prove him wrong."

"Thank you."

"Turn 'n' burn, Mav."

You make your way to the class after you watch Mav take off in your plane. As luck would have it, you arrive just as your plane appears on the screen.

"Avalanche," range control crackles through the comms, "you are approaching point Alpha. Confirm green range."

"Copy, Range control. Green range is confirmed." Cyclone's eyes find yours when he starts at the very decidedly not feminine voice that responds to the tower.

"Umm… Avalanche?"

"Maverick."

"We have this event scheduled for Avalanche, sir."

"Well, I'm going anyway," Mav says. "Setting time to target: two minutes and fifteen seconds."

You might be the only person in the room who isn't surprised when Mav pulls off his stunt.

Cyclone takes off from the hangar with Warlock hot on his heels. You follow as they pass you by.

"You were supposed to keep him in line," Cyclone says, but he doesn't turn to look at you. Warlock does, you even think he understands why you did it, but Warlock wasn't the one Mav had to convince.

"With all due respect, sir–"

"Dismissed."

Your steps falter. "What?"

Cyclone shoots you a glare over his shoulder. "Go home, Rear Admiral. We will discuss this later." Then to Warlock: "Bring Mitchell to my office. Now."

With no other way to contact him, you head to the Hard Deck, knowing Mav will find you there eventually. You hope he's got good news when he does.

Mav takes significantly longer to show up than you'd anticipated, which is either good or bad. It's a busy night at the bar, the jukebox plays hit after hit, and one unlucky sod has the bell run on him for disrespecting a lady. No one is tossed overboard. You've only managed to drink half of your beer, your stomach lurching uneasily each time you take a sip, and your eyes jumping to the door every time it swings open, unsettled with the knowledge that you all ship out in the morning. That this was the last chance Mav had to prove the mission could be flown, to change Cyclone's mind before the team was selected. That he — you — might have been too late.

Then he shows up. Nostalgia personified in his dress whites, cap tucked beneath his arm as Loverboy croons over the clink of glasses and laughter that fills the bar. Your breath catches in your throat.

This is it. The moment of truth.

Mav's face gives nothing away as he leans in close enough for his breath to tickle your ear. "Take a walk with me?" You abandon your room-temperature beer and follow Mav onto the deck and down to the beach. He lets out a bone-deep sigh as his dress shoes fill with sand.

"What's with the whites?" You're shooting for casual, but you're practically shaking. Is this a final night of glory? A swan song? A victory lap?

"Just seemed appropriate." Mav shrugs and drags out your suffering.

"So," you say, drawing it out until the vowel is lost in the breeze, "did you get canned?"

"No." You give him a look, and he relents. "Close, but no."

The surf fills the silence, but there's only so much it can do before the space between you grows stale. The moment to say something has almost passed when: "Spit it out. We aren't getting any younger."

"I've been appointed team leader."

It crashes into you like waves against the hull of a carrier. The whites, the solemn expression. This is supposed to be goodbye.

"Don't go." And you mean it. Don't even have to think about it.

But Mav's eyes stay on the water. Dark waves gliding up the sand and retreating. "I have to."

"No. You don't."

His shoulders stiffen; you can see it clear as day with the way his whites contrast the inky black of the night sky. "Is that an order, Admiral?"

You scoff. "No. If it was, you'd just break it." Mav chuckles despite himself. "It's a request. From a friend." But the request feels hollow when you put it that way. Tastes like a lie on the back of your tongue.

"I'm the only one who's flown the course in the timeframe. It has to be me."

"Please," you say because you aren't above pleading. Because you're desperate and running out of reasons.

"I love you." The words feel like ejecting without a parachute. Like diving headfirst into an alpine lake at the height of summer — frigid water filling your lungs as you gasp. "Never stopped, but," he pauses, meets your gaze with his own, and for the first time, Mav seems every bit his age. You can't help but feel that he looks all the more handsome for it. "I wanted to say it now. In case I don't get the chance to, later."

You pull him into a kiss and breathe him in like water. Longing. Lingering. Drowning. Mav allows himself to sink beneath the surface with you before his hands cover your own on his cheeks and pulls away. He takes a step back, surfaces, stumbles slightly in the sand. "When I come back," he promises.

And that's precisely what echoes in your head when you hear that Dagger One has gone down.

Read Next Chapter

[worldofheroes]

Home

pete “maverick” mitchell x fem!reader

summary: maverick makes it home after the mission and has missed you.

warnings: 18+, set after TGM, mention of bruises, mention of death, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, age gap

wc: 815

a/n: based on this request. I absolutely love writing for older Mav 😍

You hear the front door open to your house.

He’s home.

You carefully make your way to the foyer to greet him. You find him with his back against the door, head resting against it with his eyes closed.

“Mav,” you breathe, relieved that he is home in one piece.

Maverick opens his eyes and looks at you, a small smile spreading on his face. “Hi sweetheart,” he says, pushing himself off the door.

You don’t say anything more, you just move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wraps you in his arms, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Pete,” you sigh into his body.

He kisses the top of your head. The two of you stand there for a minute, not saying anything.

“You’re home,” you say, breaking the silence.

“I am,” he sighs.

“How was the mission?”

He pulls away slightly, taking a long look at you.

“Pete?”

“You don’t understand how happy I am to see you,” he says, finally giving you a kiss.

“You should show me.”

You feel him smile against your lips. He starts to push you backwards down the hall to the bedroom, clothes being dropped along the way - his jacket, your shirt, his shirt… by the time you reach the bed, you’re in just your panties and he’s in his briefs.

You notice the bruises on his skin, and your fingertips softly glide over them.

“You took a beating,” you frown.

“Don’t worry about them,” he mumbles, kissing your neck.

“Mav,” you sigh, his kisses instantly making you melt beneath him.

Maverick gently pushes you onto the bed and he crawls over you.

“You really have no idea how happy I am to see you,” he murmurs as he kisses down your body.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask him.

He shakes his head. “I just want to forget about it right now.”

“Okay,” you say, barely above a whisper.

Maverick pushes your legs apart and starts to kiss your inner thigh. You throw your head back against the pillow, hips slightly bucking in anticipation.

“Easy,” he smiles against your skin.

He pulls your panties down and slots his mouth against you, eager to taste you again after a long month away.

“Pete!” you exclaim as pleasure fills your senses.

He hums against you, getting sloppy with his work, making obscene noises that just turn you on further.

“Fuck! Pete!” you exclaim again, grabbing at his hair as the pleasure overwhelming you.

Maverick takes notice and backs off. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

He crawls back over you, leaning down and kissing you, languidly. You sigh happily, running your hands through his hair.

Maverick works his briefs down as he kisses you, pumping himself through his fist.

“Y/n,” he breathes, lining himself up with your slit.

“Pete,” you say, studying his face.

His eyes dark with love, he pushes in you, making you throw your head back against the pillow and closing your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he hums, kissing your neck.

“Fuck, Mav, you… you feel so good,” you manage to say as he rocks his hips against you.

“I’ve missed all of this,” he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he begins to go harder and faster.

“Pete, please,” you cry, feeling your orgasm build.

“That’s it,” he growls, thrusting into you like it’s the last thing he’ll do.

“Fuck, Pete, right there,” you exclaim as your orgasm washes over you.

“Fuck,” Maverick groans, chasing his own orgasm.

You hold tightly onto Maverick as he finds his release, his warm cum coating your walls.

Maverick slows, shallowly thrusting now. He props himself up to look at you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, moving to lay down next to you.

“My baby,” you say, kissing his chest.

“I really thought I wasn’t going to make it back,” Maverick says, staring at the ceiling. “Then Rooster saved my life and thought we both weren’t gonna make it back.”

You don’t say anything, you just continue to pepper his body with kisses.

“If we had died… I don’t think I could’ve faced Goose. If we hadn’t made it back to the carrier…”

His voice cracks.

“Hey,” you say, moving so you can see his face. “You made it home, okay? You’re back with me. You’re safe. Rooster’s safe. I’m sure Goose is proud of both of you.”

You wipe Maverick’s tears away. He nods at your words.

“And I love you more than anything, for what it’s worth,” you add with a small smile.

“How did I get so lucky?” Maverick asks, pulling you down and kissing you. “Why did you agree to date an old man like me?”

“Mav,” you half-heartedly scold, lightly hitting his chest.

“I love you too, y/n,” Maverick says. “Thank you for being my home.”

“I would do anything for you, Pete.”

[callsignmayhem]

Kisses on fingertips

A call.

One simple call from them.

That's all it took.

For you to shatter completely.

The day had started just like every other day before, with the routine you had honed down over the years to get the kids to school on time. After dropping them off, he went to work, you went back home and later ran some errands.

You were just finishing up putting the groceries away, when the call came.

Without checking the caller ID, you hit the green button, answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Am I speaking with Mrs. Seresin?”

“Yes, you are”

“I am deeply sorry to bother you, but…”

Whatever the voice on the other end of the call said, was a complete haze to you apart from the part that you should come to the base as soon as possible.

So you did.

And how you wish you hadn't.

Because nothing could have prepared you for the news you were about to get the minute you stepped in those doors.

You saw both admiral Tom Kazansky and captain Pete Mitchell standing there waiting for you in the middle of the lobby, dressed in the white uniforms, forlorn looks on their faces.

Little bit to the left were his friends, his squadron, the people who he flew with almost daily. Also dressed in their whites, having similar expressions as the two men before your eyes.

As you walked forward, you looked down to admiral Kazansky’s hands, realizing he's holding something. As soon as you see what he's holding, your eyes get blurry with unshed tears.

Both captain Mitchell and admiral Kazansky take a step towards you, as you come to a stop just meters away from them.

Captain Mitchell stops a mere meter away as admiral Kazansky comes to stand right in front of you, placing the items in your right hand.

Few tears slip down your cheeks, when you receive the confirmation for what the items are. The white cowboy hat you are holding in your hand drops down to the floor.

They are dog tags and a picture that is slightly burned from the bottom right corner.

His dog tags with his wedding ring dangling in the chain.

His sunglasses.

Your picture.

Flag on the pole outside at half-mast.

People around you dressed in uniforms.

Your legs give out under you, and you collapse down to your knees right next to the hat. Still holding the items. Tears running down your cheeks. Admiral Kazansky kneeling in front of you, letting you sob against his shoulder.

You are watching as the wings get punched into his casket, silent tears streaming down your face.

Your kids are standing next to you, your oldest Benjamin holding your middle ones, Cade's hand and your youngest Eden holding the pant leg of Benjamin.

You walk forward as soon as the last person around the casket has left.

Crouching down, you place your forehead against the smooth wood surface of the casket. The folded flag rests on your lap.

After a while you straighten up, pressing a kiss on your fingertips and placing them on the surface right next to the golden wings.

The sky is greying by the minute, a few droplets of water starting to come down from the skies above. It's as if the sky is mourning with you.

Arriving home after the funeral, you just stand in the hallway that opens up to a living room, staring down at the flag in your hands. Everything seems so dull, like all the colors got sucked out of the world.

You walk to the kitchen, behind you on the shelf is a white cowboy hat, and on the floor there is a pair of worn boots.

In the kitchen you gently place the flag down on the table.

“Mom?”

You look at your seventeen year old son, who has a sorrowful look in his eyes.

Eyes that are just like his dad's.

You look at his features, every one of them bears a resemblance to him.

Him.

You can't even get yourself to think, let alone mention his name.

Jake.

At that thought your eyes start filling with tears again, Benjamin wraps his arms around you, soon you feel two sets of smaller arms wrap around you as well.

Cade.

Eden.

The four of you just stand in the kitchen while outside your home it's a downpour of rain, the flag still folded and lying on the table behind you. One piece of you is missing.

At first it seemed so hard to get back to the routines, even with help from others.

But you knew it was what Jake would have wanted, for you to keep going. If not for your sake, then for the kid's sake.

But day after day, week after week, year after year, the heartache gets tolerable even though it never fully goes away.

Years go by in a blur, the kids are growing fast, going through all the heartbreaks when trying to find the one and only for them, the first time your kids bring girlfriends and boyfriends home, when they eventually get married and countless other memories and traditions.

You remember waiting at the hospital waiting room, with Cade and Eden and their spouses.

Footsteps echo on the floor.

“Mom”

You look up at Benjamin.

He smiles at you, offering his hand. You take it, standing up and walking with him down the corridor. Benjamin stops in front of a door, and opens it. He guides you inside, where you see Mia, Benjamin's wife lying on the bed.

Benjamin goes over to her, kisses her temple and lifts someone up from her arms.

“Mom, I'd like you to meet your grandson”

You take a careful step forward, looking down at the sleeping bundle in your son's arms. You gently trail a finger down the newborn's cheek.

“His name is Jake”

You freeze, look up at Benjamin and see his soft smile. Your eyes get watery.

Benjamin places the newborn in your arms, and as soon as he's done that, baby Jake opens his eyes.

There you see the eyes you have always loved staring back at you.

You sob a little at that.

“He's got the eyes”

“I know, mom” Benjamin places an arm around you, both of you watching down at the baby you are holding.

Over the years, you are blessed with more grandchildren, even with one great grandchild.

One day you are watching your family at the BBQ party that is being held at Benjamin's home. The strays of sun hit you in the face, making you inhale the late summer air. The wind blows some leaves that have already dropped from the trees around the yard.

You get up from the stairs you have been sitting on, and walk to Benjamin. He hears you walking towards him, and turns around.

“Everything okay, mom?”

You nod.

“Go gather you sister and brother, there's some place I'd like to visit”

Soon you are walking with them among rows of headstones, until you stop in front of the one you were looking for. The one with a small jet engraved on the right corner of the headstone, as per your request.

As the wind blows and the sun slowly is disappearing behind the horizon, you wrap the cardigan a little bit tighter around you.

You place the wild flowers down in front of the headstone, reading the engravings.

“In loving memory of our beloved:

Lt. Jake Seresin,

a father, husband and a son.”

You kiss your fingertips, placing them against the cold stone, feeling a slight warm sensation under your fingers as if the headstone recognizes you. That was the last time you visited the cemetery.

You are lying in a warm bed, surrounded by your kids.

Benjamin is by your right side, whilst Cade and Eden are by the left side.

You fondly look around the room at the people you love. You cough, and Benjamin offers you to take a sip of water from the glass, but you shake your head. You take a breath.

“I need you to… promise me one last thing”

They nod.

“After I'm gone bury me… next to your father”

“Of course, mom”

“And everything else can be found on your testament, mom, we know”

You smile at them.

“Eden, would you hand over that box from the side table?”

Eden turns and grabs a small dark wooden box with Seresin engraved in the lid.

She passes it to you, and you trace your finger across the engraved name. Pressing a small kiss on your fingertips, placing them against the lid. Your eyes shut momentarily but soon open again.

You open the box, taking whatever items are inside out and placing them on the bed.

Stack of pictures and a letter from along the way.

Dog tags with his wedding ring in the chain.

His worn sunglasses.

The necklace he gave to you on your first anniversary.

His necklace that has your and the kids' names engraved.

You lift up your necklace with shaky hands, placing it on Eden's palm, closing her hand around it. She always has adored the necklace and now it's hers.

Next you take out Jake's necklace, giving it to Cade. He has been fascinated by it since he was a small boy, so you decided it should be his.

Then you pull out the dog tags, lowering them down on Benjamin's palm.

“Mom, I can't take the tags”

“I might've worn them every day since his passing but they are yours now”

You take off your wedding ring, handing it to Benjamin.

“Put it on.. the chain with your dad's ring”

He does as told.

“Now I need you to promise me to cherish and pass down those items with the story behind them.. for future generations”

You take a small wheezy breath, grabbing a hold of the sunglasses, clutching them tight.

Your eyes start to blur.

“I love you all”

“We love you too, mom”

“Rest now”

“Tell dad we said hi”

Your eyes flutter shut as your chest stills. You have a faint smile on your lips.

Your children kept all their promises to you just like they said they would.

They buried you next to Jake.

They cherished and passed down the items you gave them.

They made sure every single generation after them knew how the story of Seresin's went.

Your eyes open, seeing everything so brightly. You look around, realizing you are at the beach behind the Hard Deck. There at the beach, as you walk closer you see Pete and Tom sitting in foldable chairs, and multiple people playing volleyball in the sand.

As you near the squadron, Tom turns his head, smiles and nudges Pete. He also turns and smiles at you, nodding towards the water line where the group of pilots are playing.

You nod at them and smile, going past them.

You stop right by the edge of the makeshift volleyball field.

One by one they stop playing, until the one person you have waited so long to see again, turns around and sees you. He drops the ball. Then you and he both move towards each other as if gravity is pulling you together. In a way it always has been and always will be doing so.

Soon you are standing face to face, looking each other straight in the eyes.

He cups your cheek, and you place your hand on top of his.

Then his lips crash against your in a fierce kiss. You pull apart, he rests his forehead against yours, both breathing heavily.

His sunglasses resting on top of your head.

“Hey”

“Hi, sweetheart”

You might have some catching up to do with all of them, but luckily you've got all the eternity for it.

Part 2

The letter

Pictures

Benjamin is 17 years old, Cade 14 years old and Eden is 6 years old when they lost their dad.

A/N: I finished writing this between 4 and 5 in the morning, so pardon me if there's any mistakes. I have to admit writing this got me crying.

If anything is unclear, just ask and I'll try my best to explain.

Had to repost cuz Tumblr was being irritating and didn't let me edit the post, only because my original post had disappeared somewhere.

Sorry for the hassle!

[helloitstsyu]

Confession | Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

My masterlist

Pairing : '86 Maverick x f¡reader

Summary : you have a crush on maverick, he notices. Maverick pushes you to confess.

Warnings: alluded smut. Mostly overall fluff.

Requested: by anon. Thanks for requesting i hope you enjoy!<3

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

What's to like about him? He's so full of himself and he doesn't follow the rules. He happens to be your instructor too, your commander. He is trouble. But that doesn't stop you from developing a crush on this cocky commander.

That's what you should've seen in the first place. Not his pleasing smile, amazing hair, and perfect eyes, or his impeccably hot exterior. Maverick is hot. He is damn hot. But the more turning weeks you spend in Top Gun near his presence, the more you notice what a gentleman that he actually is. And that.... made you fall even deeper for someone's out of your league.

The result of your uncontrolled emotion is that you find yourself insanely shy around him. You have no idea you can be that shy. But whenever he's around, you'd feel your heart double beating in times. Perhaps you're so scared that he'd notice, or perhaps you're too afraid to make a fool of yourself in front of him.

"Mayday, mayday, we got fuck me eyes in the area," Dingle, your RIO whispers to you.

"Gosh, Dingle!" You slap his back as he laughs contentedly.

Dingle's the only one who knows about your crush on the instructor. You didn't tell him of course, he figured it out. He said it's obvious since you acted so differently around Maverick.

"The hell are you talking about?" you play dumb and act as if it weren't true.

"Come on, Pep, you're so caught right-handed."

Looking back straight up, Maverick is across the room playing a game of pool with another naval aviator. He bends down, eyes straight and sharp as he aims for the ball to the pocket. Your eyes follow the lengths of his arms. His toned arms... your gaze just involuntarily follows the veins on his arms. Maverick then takes his shot. He hit the nail on the head, he perfectly nailed the shot. Gosh, he even makes playing pool look so hot, he makes everything look so hot.

You shake your head and palm your face. "This is getting worse, Dingle.."

"Just tell him, take your shot, Pepper," Dingle tells you.

You shake your head. The idea of telling him that you have a crush on him always makes your stomach flip. How could you? You couldn't even stare at him right in the eyes for too long.

You take a deep breath and leave a heavy sigh. "What is wrong with me?!" You ramble.

"What's wrong with you?" The voice that you're far too recognized speaks.

You reopen your eyes to find Maverick comes to you and Dingle. You widen your eyes slightly at Dingle, cursing him non-verbally to not warning you that Maverick is coming in your way.

"Something's wrong with you, Pepper? Is everything alright?" Maverick asks with concern in his eyes. He reaches out his hand to hold your arm, showing the emphaty he feels as he practically asks you whether you're okay.

"Uh... excuse me, i need to go to the toilet." Dingle says.

You quickly turn your head to him. Beg with your eyes to not leave you alone with Maverick cause god knows you couldn't comprehend it alone.

"Sir..." Dingle politely nods to Maverick before leaving us be.

Maverick looks back at you, "Uh... I'm–I'm okay, sir."

"Yeah?" Maverick skeptically wonders about your answer. Out of nowhere, an unreadable slight smirk appears on his face. "You don't really sound sure..." he smiles mischievously.

"Uh..." you chuckle awkwardly, looking down at the floor rather than back at his green eyes. "I'm sure,"

You glance back to his face. "Thanks for checking in, though, sir." You smile then eyes away from him again. You already feel your heart thumping.

Maverick purses his lips and nods. "Okay.... okay, if you say so,"

You nod. "Well... do you want to play po—"

"I'm actually-- not really feeling okay. Maybe i had too much beer... could you excuse me, i-imma go back to base." You cut Maverick before he could've finished what he's trying to say.

You stand up from your stool, and stupidly you stumble on your own feet. Maverick's quick to catch you before you fall. You look up to his face. His face stays inches above yours. You have never been this close to him. Feels like your heart is about to beat out of your chest.

"Oohh... careful," he casually says. So casually like it means nothing to him.

You stand up straight to your own feet again. Awkwardly laugh it off. "T-thanks... um, goodnight, sir." You walk hastily out the door.

-------

"Pepper," Maverick calls you out just after you rise from your seat. You've seen this coming, especially after that near hit you did earlier.

"Do you mind staying behind? I'd like a word," he says.

You exchange a look with Dingle. But eventually you wait till the last person is out of the room, leaving you and Maverick behind. You walk up to him. "Sir?" You ask.

Maverick walks around his table and sits on the edge of it, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What happened?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together.

You look down from his intense gaze, shaking your head, "I lost control of—"

"No, I'm not asking you that," he interjects. "What. Happened?" He emphasizes the question.

"We talked about what went wrong technically. But what happened? You never step out of your game." Maverick asks solemnly calm. The way he should've been furiously mad kind of making you more nervous.

"I.... i lost focus,"

"You lost focus?" Maverick repeats, eyebrows raising.

"I.... I'm sorry, sir. I-it won't happen again,"

"Lost focus.. you jeopardize your team's safety, your RIO's life."

You look down. Embarrassed by your failure. "I know, sir. My apology."

"You lost focus.." Maverick sighs, "So where was your focus? What's so important that clouded your mind, Lieutenant?"

Beat. You feel like you're pushed to the corner, checkedmate. How can you answer that? That your mind replays the scene of last night when Maverick touches you. When his face stays inches above yours?

"Uh.... um..." you stutter.

Maverick smiles mischievously, "Cat got your tongue, Lieutenant?"

"I-it's nothing, sir."

"Nothing? I don't buy it." Maverick thinly smiles.

Maverick walks towards you slowly. "Eyes on me, Lieutenant." He orders with such authority in his voice yet still sounds soft.

You feel your palm starts sweating, heart racing.

Maverick smirks. "What got your focus..?" He asks as he walks towards you ever so softly. Making the room feels a drop temperature hotter. "Or... rather.. who?".

"I- i- uh...." You feel your lips trembling so you bite on them.

His eyes drop to witness the scene. "You.... what?" He mutter, eyes locked to your lips. That made your knees limp, you feel like you're about to pass out.

He keeps taking a step closer to you till there's no more room, and he's invading your personal space. You could feel the warmth of his breath fanning to your lips. His eyes look deeply into yours, like he's digging onto you. Your chest heaves. And the closeness of him makes you dizzy. "Y/N," his voice calls you back into reality. Maverick softly grazes his fingers over yours.

You couldn't think clearly with him in mere inches away from you. So the next thing out of your mouth just slipped before you caught yourself. "I have a crush on you." You breathlessly confess.

Maverick's smile slowly can not be attained. The way he says nothing and just smiles there sends you into an anxiety loop, so you ramble on stupid things all at once. "I- i know it's stupid. I'll–I'll get over it. I shouldn't have—" Maverick slipped his hand behind the nape of your neck and just shut you up with his lips seal to yours.

It surprises you at first but, you feel your soul leaves your body. You close your eyes and just sink into him.

Once he breaks away the kiss, your mind buzzes from the after impact of it. Reopening your eyes again, you meet the heavenly greens of his eyes and his perfect smile. "I knew," Maverick retorts softly.

"You're not so hard to read, Pepper,"

You chuckle. Feeling your cheek already burning. "This is a dream," you mutter.

Maverick grins. "Well, Y/N, tell me... can your dream feel this?" Maverick presses his lips to yours again. Hand circling around you and bring you closer to him while the other keeps holding the nape of your neck.

With your body completely pressed to his. Hands to each other's body, and tongue starts colliding in a passionate rhythm, you didn't bother to think whether this is real or not. Even if it's a dream, you want it to last because Maverick tastes like a pure ecstasy. The moment he takes a step forward, pushing you back till you find yourself presented against a table. Any moral misgivings have left the room, and both of you are hurrying to have more taste of each other. Maverick grabs your jaw, set your face aside to have access to your neck. He kisses your neck, starts soft, then gradually picks up his pace. He sucks and nibs the sensitive skin, traveling all around, finding your one spot that got you ticking.

"Maverick..." You whimper.

The exit out of this is already too far. None of you both can stop the overdriving temptation. Your fingers grip on his shoulders. The more he sucks and nibs, the more heat you feel in between your legs. You keep pulling him closer as if there's any gap left. You could feel his hard on pressing onto your center, that sends your mind even more rattling than before. You try to hold back your moans but find yourself helplessly to do so.

His hand explores all your body. Groping your breast from outside of your suit. He's moments away from unzipping your flight suit but a distraction come,  and you both hear a dim voice of the Admiral coming.

Quickly, Maverick leaps off you, just in time for Admiral Caine opening the door. Still with ragged breath, you hold onto the ledge of the table for dear life, your mind still buzzing from the pleasure seconds ago.

"Sir," Maverick stands up straight and slightly nods at the admiral. He's so unbothered as if nothing has happened just seconds ago. While you're still.... trying to compose yourself.

Admiral Caine looks at the both of you. Something must've pass his mind because you could see the skeptically in his eyes. But he knock it off and instead calls Maverick for a word.

Maverick glances at you before leaving the room without saying any words. The moment the door slams close, that's when you truly can breathe.

Dreams do always stop whenever it's getting good.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Best of the Bad Boys | Part II

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: You've fallen for the best of the best. Unfortunately, he also happens to be the worst of the worst.

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff

WC: ~1900

Part I | Masterlist

“Why didn’t you tell me Viper was your father?” Maverick calls, following you out into the lot.

You’re walking briskly ahead of him because you were hoping to postpone this very conversation. You slow your pace a touch and glance back at him over your shoulder. “You didn’t ask.”

Maverick gives you a disgruntled look and slides a pair of aviators over his eyes. “Cute,” he replies curtly, walking past you toward his bike.

“Did you tell my father what you’re giving me a ride in?” you ask, eyeing the motorcycle skeptically.

Maverick pauses briefly as he grabs the handlebar and lowers his head to peek up at you over the rims of his sunglasses. “Your father trusts me to fly jets. I think he’d be okay with the Ninja.”

You shrug nonchalantly. “It’s your ass on the line.”

Maverick exhales sharply and takes a step toward you. “Exactly,” he says moodily. “You could’ve given me a heads up.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!” you exclaim in a forceful whisper, very conscious of how close he’s gotten. “I never come here.” You look around anxiously, ensuring that no one is around. “Today was an exception – obviously,” you finish, rubbing the back of your head where your clip had broken against it.

Maverick watches you intently. “Are you okay?” he finally says.

“You already asked me that,” you retort grumpily, lowering your gaze.

“I’m asking again.”

“I’m fine.”

Maverick lets out another sigh and then mounts his bike. He glances over at you. “You coming?”

You hesitate for a moment before climbing onto the back of the seat. Tentatively, you take a hold of his jacket, being careful not to actually touch his body.

But Maverick takes your hand in his and brings it around his torso, pressing it into his abdomen. You hold your breath nervously, trying not to think about the ripple of abs you can feel underneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m not going to be flooring it,” he says, starting the engine. “But I’d still prefer it if you held on.”

You bring your other hand around to his stomach, wondering if riding around on a motorcycle is really the best pastime for someone whose limbs are still feeling like jelly after an – albeit minor – collision. You know that your father would certainly not approve. And yet, you somehow feel like you could trust Maverick to deliver you home safe and sound.

As Maverick pulls out of the lot, he yells to you over the roar of the engine, “You thought you’d never see me again?”

You stare at the back of his neck, wondering how the heck you’re going to reply. Thankfully, the motor is loud enough that you have some time to think about it.

When Maverick slows to a stop at a red light, he turns his head to the side so that you’re graced with the contours of his side profile for several moments. He doesn’t strain to look at you over his shoulder but the pause as he lowers his gaze to the asphalt is enough to confirm that he’s awaiting a response.

“I didn’t know you were planning on staying,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with confidence despite your discomfort.

Maverick revs his engine just before the light turns green and starts rolling through the intersection the moment it changes. He doesn’t say anything else until he parks outside your house and kills the engine. “I wasn’t,” he says evenly and then climbs off the bike. He turns to look at you coolly and offers a hand to help you down.

You ignore his outstretched hand and dismount without his help. “You weren’t going to stay?” you ask casually, pretending that the impending answer is entirely insignificant to you.

Maverick shakes his head. “I turned down the offer last week.”

You gulp anxiously, suddenly severely distraught at the thought of Maverick leaving – even though you apparently ‘never thought you’d see him again.’  “But my dad said – does he know that you turned down the offer?”

Maverick watches you in silence for a second and then nods. He drops his gaze then and mutters, “I called him this morning, told him I was reconsidering my decision.” His eyes meet yours again with a stoic expression.

You blink to break the eye contact and look away uneasily. “How come?” you ask nonchalantly.

“Just felt like sticking around for a bit,” he says.

You glance up at him and, while he’s still not exactly smiling, the crease between his furrowed eyebrows has softened a touch. You realize that his change of heart must have had – at least in part – something to do with you, considering it happened immediately after your encounter. But you’re too afraid of being wrong to voice this theory so, instead, you say, “Even so, I’m hardly ever on base and I don’t exactly hang out at the officer’s club very often. The chances of us running into each other again were pretty slim.”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “You gave me your number.”

“Would you have called?”

Maverick stares at you. “I wouldn’t have asked for it if I wasn’t going to call.”

You shrug. “It was a fake number.”

Maverick raises his eyebrows and scoffs. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll see you around then.” He turns back to his bike and swings his leg over to mount it. “Or I guess I won’t,” he adds, turning the key in the ignition.

You panic and take a step toward him, placing your hand over the handlebar and grasping it firmly. “Can you image if I had given you my real number?” you ask. “You would’ve called – maybe” – you add with an eyeroll – “But, if you had and my father picked up? Then what?”

Maverick holds your gaze as your words sink in. Of course, your logic is sound. You couldn’t give him your real number. “You could’ve told me he was your father,” he says levelly, clearly still abundantly vexed. “What else did you lie about?”

You tighten your grip around the handlebar until your knuckles turn white. “Don’t act like you had any intention of seeing me again. And, if you did, how would I know? It’s not like you have a history of committed relationships.”

“What do you know about my history?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow as though you’ve piqued his interest.

You freeze for a moment and press your lips together crossly, annoyed that he’s caught onto the fact that you know more about him than you’d originally let on. “Are you going to take the position?” you ask irritably, completely ignoring his question.

“How can I?” he asks, raising his voice. Then, in a desperate whisper, he adds, “I slept with my superior officer’s daughter!”

You stare at him guiltily. “He doesn’t have to know,” you say.

“I know,” Maverick responds, his eyes boring into yours.

You sigh. “Pretend you don’t.” After a few moments of silence, you let go of the bike and give him a tight smile and a small wave as you start to back away.

Maverick doesn’t wave back. He watches you grimly as you retreat until you finally turn your back to him and ascend the steps of your porch.

You pause at your front door, wondering if you're ever going to see him again. But as you start to dig in your pocket for your house key, you feel a hand graze your upper back, and you whip your head around in surprise. How Maverick managed to scale your porch in under five seconds is beyond you, but you’re far too swept away to ruminate on the details.

Maverick waits a beat, his fingers sliding down your arm as you rotate to face him. His gaze slips momentarily to your lips before he says, “I’m not good at pretending.”

You stare at him in shock as the familiar weakness in your knees – a recurring ailment where Maverick is concerned – threatens to compromise your balance. Standing there, admiring the angles of his face, you suddenly can't think of anything more awe-inspiring. “You should take the job,” you say feebly as he draws ever closer.

Maverick sets his jaw and breathes forcefully out through his nose as though he’s combatting a sentiment he’d rather not express. “Okay,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. This move destabilizes you further.

You glance up at him and his lips brush softly over the tip of your nose. Your heart springs violently into your throat and then proceeds to bounce around your ribcage like a pinball. He smells like leather and cologne and his light eyes hold your gaze like a magnet. “I’ll stay away from the base,” you say quietly, not daring to believe your own words.

His hands slide up your shoulders and then your neck and then he cradles your head in his palms. “Okay,” he repeats, his face so close to yours that you can almost taste the citrus in his aftershave.

You try to control your breathing, closing your eyes as his thumbs sweep gently over your cheeks. “We can forget all about this,” you whisper very faintly, as though you don’t want to be heard.

Maverick nudges your face with the tip of his nose and mutters, “Okay,” in a warm, humid whisper. His lips move slowly over yours and, languidly, he wraps an entire arm around the back of your neck to bring your closer. He takes a few steps toward you but, since you’re already flush against his body, you’re forced to take a few steps back.

“Thank you for the ride,” you mumble against his lips and you feel him grin at your words.

“My pleasure,” he responds without taking his mouth off yours. He guides you backward until you’re against the front door of your house and suddenly you realize that you’re making out with a Top Gun aviator under your father’s roof.

This thought startles you awake and you brace your hands against Maverick’s chest, giving him a slight push.

Maverick withdraws instantly and drops his head with a heavy sigh before glancing up at you with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he says, despite the unapologetic grin.

You scoff with an eye roll and shake your head. Not only is this turn of events the complete opposite of your earlier proposition but it’s also very much something you swore you’d never do. Maverick is just about the worst decision you could make and yet, here you are continuing to make it. “My friend told me you’re trouble,” you say, straightening your posture because you’re now addressing something of utmost importance.

Maverick’s mouth tightens slightly as he attempts to keep a straight face. “Susan?”

“Yes, Susan,” you retort mockingly, surprised that he remembers her name.

Maverick purses his lips, shifting his jaw in thought as he squints his eyes at you. “What sort of trouble?”

You give him a flat look. “She wasn’t specific.”

He nods. “How convenient.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You’re denying this?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Nah, she’s probably right.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Good to know.”

He meets your gaze with a more genuine expression. “Come on,” he says. “It’s not like you haven’t already made up your mind about me.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, ignoring the way his eyes are sparkling in the afternoon sun. You’d love to just be straightforward and ask what his true intentions are, but that seems lame and boring and awkward. And you’re none of those things. So, you say, “Would you like to come in for a minute?”

Maverick gives you a small smile and nods. “Okay,” He responds.

Maverick Tag List:

The rest of the list will be in the comments. Let me know if I missed you! As always, let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Mav works!

@wandering-wah

@callsign-sunshine

@ghost-heart34

@birdy-bat-writes

@matya4

@wkndwlff

@nyx2021

@bellamy1998

@oliviah-25

@alexxavicry

@army24--7

@thefandomimagines

@dracosluvbot

@smit41

@scenesofobx

@Criminalmindsandmarvel

@lunamoonbby

@malums-trash-can

@malindacath

@karleetakeenan

@callsign-echo

@toothemoonanddback

@broketraveler87

@atarmychick007

@shanimallina87

@creativitybeware

@xoxabs88xox

@Yoyop7

@hallecarey1

@nik2blog

@rrocky0ah

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@lilianashomaresparza

@latetedslesetoiles

@Elenavampire21

@starberryhorse

@ginger-gabsq

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@risingtripletaurus

@callsignmaverick5

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@hermaeusmorax

@littlebadariell

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

[idkwhylou]

Untouchable pt.1

Summary : One evening at the hard deck your attention is strangely on a quiet pilot who blushes way too much, your friend made fun of you but the evening ends in his bed. Maybe it was not the better option to sleep with a military brat, and even less when it’s the daughter of your superior.

Bob Floyd x militarybrat!reader/f!reader

Warnings : SMUT (a bit cringy sorry)

Words : 7K +

A/N : It’s the very first time I write “smut” (it’s not much but yeah yk) and little reminder that English is not my first language !

pt.2 here :)

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ««

You were untouchable.

Already by your personality, you had what could be called a bad temper. You didn’t really let yourself slacken off and even less in front of the men of the Navy whom you knew too well. You were endowed with an astonishing intelligence, you understood things very quickly and quite surprising but some were afraid of this intelligence. You weren't scary at all but the fact that you knew how to think for yourself had the gift of scaring some pilots. You were independent, you didn't need anyone and again, even less a man with an oversized ego like some of them. On top of that you were extremely beautiful, not pretty but very beautiful. Some could qualify you as a femme fatale even if you did not like this term, you defined it as an idea established by the desire of man in women.

You knew very well that you had an advantageous physical and it would be a lie to say that you never took advantage of it to obtain something, of course you never played with a man's feelings. Even if you could sometimes be frank you were far from hurtful. The only thing that could hurt others about you was your beauty but not your personality. Deep down inside, you slightly liked being untouchable, you liked telling yourself that you were in control of the situation. That was a rare thing for a woman in the Navy, but you were one hell of an exception. In addition to being more than special in the eyes of all unfortunately you were even more untouchable than anyone could have thought.

Even if a man had a slim chance with you, there was a whole other problem. You were a military brat but not just any. It turns out that you were the only child of the famous Captain Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell. So even if you looked at a pilot once your head was turned, you could be sure that your father was going to take pleasure in staring intensely at the boy you had just made hope for. It was on one hand reassuring to tell you that your father was vigilant with you and the possible predators, even if in reality the real predator was you. But on the other hand it was more than annoying that he protected you as if you were in porcelain and that you were going to break at any moment. You were stronger than that and you didn't need your father to defend you, far from it.

It is true that you did not have a very stable life due to your father's job, but that never bothered you, it is precisely thanks to his environment that you are as you are today. Being his only child he was always more protective than other parents, he didn't want anything to happen to you. At the time you didn't realize it since you were too young but if your father was so protective it was mainly because you were the last family he had left. After Goose's death it is true that he was not like before but when Carole left in turn, it was too much. He no longer had anyone to rely on, he had completely let himself go and after a one night stand you arrived. You never knew your mother and she never wanted to know you, giving all the responsibility to Pete who was far from ready to be a father.

But the rest is history.

You were back in Miramar and the first thing you thought of was going to the Hard Deck, just to pop in and say hello to Penny, nothing more. You pushed the wooden door in front of you and made your way into the bar, you walked with a determined and confident step towards the bar, trying to make your way through the crowd so that you could then sit on one of the wooden stools in front of you. It was still quite early but the bar was already full to bursting, the crowd was almost suffocating but it wasn't too disturbing yet, you looked straight ahead and observed a few pilots around the pool table. Some faces were familiar which made you smiled gently while thinking about what you were going to take, always observing the bar clientele to see if there were other people you knew by any chances.

You waited a few seconds then Penny turned in your direction with a big smile, she quickly advanced towards you while she was at the other end of the bar. “Sweetie ! What are you doing here ?" She asked surprised at your rather unexpected arrival.

“Penny I can’t breathe.” You tell her out of breath, she moves away from you, laughing slightly but still leaning on the bar to be able to stay close to you, “I wanted to pass by.” You just answered her.

She leaned towards you again and took your face in her hands before placing a kiss on your cheek, she pulls away again before speaking. “Excuse me, I'm just so happy to see you, it's been so long since I've seen you ! It’s been what ? Three years ?” She asked, all excited about your arrival.

“Two years penny, only two. But I missed you too.

“Two years ! Oh my god it's been so long. Tell me what can I serve you ?”

“Uhm one Mai Tai please.”

She nodded before starting to prepare your cocktail, you carefully observed her mixing the ingredients when she poured the mixture into a wide glass which she placed on the bar before adding a slice of lemon and a mint leaf, she pushed the glass in front of you and smiled at you again. You thanked her but when you took out your wallet to take money to pay her, she stopped me dead in your action by putting her hand on your wrist. You raised your head and she nodded hers negatively to make you understand to put away what you had in your hands, “It's not necessary Y/N, gift from the house.” She said, adding a wink before sweeping behind the bar.

“But penny-”

“No but young woman !” She interrupted you, pointing her finger in front of you to make you understand that you shouldn't try to retort again.

You sighed softly in defeat and then put the Wallet in your jacket pocket, which was actually your father's and took a sip of your drink, the fresh lemon juice slid down your throat but was quickly caught by the burning rum. “You’re alone ?” Asked the woman in front of you.

You put down your glass and nodded, “Dad's tired, he's staying home tonight.”

She raised her eyebrows and her cheeks turned slightly rosy at the response, “Oh no, I didn't mean it like that-”

You didn't give her time to finish her sentence when you smiled at her frustrated look and gave her a wink in turn before getting up to approach the jukebox which was not far from the pool table, so not far from the pilots. Once in front of the retro machine, you put your glass on the next table to be able to take a coin out of your pocket which must have been there for a long time, you kept the coin in your hand long enough to carefully read the proposed titles and choose properly. But when you were hesitating between two titles from the 80s, you felt a presence behind you but you didn't really pay attention to it. “Has anyone ever told you that it was dangerous to leave your drink unattended ?”

You jumped not expecting anyone to speak to you even less this close to your ear, you quickly turned around and came face to face with Lt. Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw. You opened your mouth amazed to see him there and didn't think another minute before taking him in your arms, you put your arms behind his neck and felt his wrap around your waist to respond to your embrace. You moved away and stared at him for a moment, he hadn't changed since the last time you saw each other. He wore a Hawaiian shirt similar to the ones his father wore before him and still had his famous pair of Ray-bans on his nose, and of course he still had his 70s mustache.

You and Rooster have known each other for years, you grew up together until your father took his papers away. At that time he had pulled away from you thinking that you knew about your father's actions when you were the last to know about the situation but all that is in the past, now all of that is behind you. Despite the recent events between him and your father, you found each other and rediscovered the bond you had when you were younger, Bradley is a few years older than you and he fulfills his role as big brother to perfection. Even if you don't have the same blood it's just like, he has always been like a brother to you and even when he stops talking to you you forgave him directly.

“Oh my God ! You scared me.” You exclaimed.

“What are you doing here ?” He asked you as surprised at my arrival as Penny.

“A craving for Mai Tai.” You say, taking your glass back from the table before taking a big sip.

“You’re pregnant ?” He asked randomly.

You almost spit out all the liquid you had in your mouth after what he just asked you, “What ? No ! Are you crazy ?”

He shrugged and laughed slightly before offering you to join him and his pilot friends, you turned your head to your right to observe the pilots you had seen before. You looked back at Rooster giving him a nod before answering him concretely with a smirk, “How could I refuse ?”

He smiled and started walking towards the pool table where his friends and colleagues were, you followed him closely not for fear of losing him but only so you could easily pass through the crowd. Unlike Rooster you weren't tall and imposing, you were of average height and far from imposing in your physique, it was only your personality that intimidated people.

“Rooster ! I thought you got lost on the way grandpa.” Exclaimed a tall blond pilot with a smirk on his face.

You stared at him for a moment but no names came to mind as you looked at him, nor did you remember Bradley telling you about a blond boy. Even if the man was unknown to you, for the moment, he was one of the first pilots you saw when you entered the bar. He looked confident, even slightly haughty, but he still seemed likeable.

“Bagman.” Bradley gave him a nod, calling him what you thought was his callsign. “What a pleasure to see you.”

The would-be 'Bagman' smiles before glancing at you, “And who is that pretty thing you brought me here ?”

Asshole.

Your smile faded away in a second. Now he seemed anything but friendly, but what he didn't realize was that you were far from easy prey. You didn't even have time to retort that Bradley put his arm around your shoulders before pulling you against him, you frowned and looked up to look at the brunet who resumed speaking as if nothing had happened.

“Not this one Hangman.” He said calling him a new callsign, you assumed the previous one was just a joke.

The blond understood from your lost look that you weren't the pilot's girlfriend next to you, “And why’s that ?” He asked slowly but surely leaning towards you.

And as you were about to answer him, someone cut you off again. “Too dangerous.” Said a female voice that you recognized directly. “The kind of girl where you avoid her dad more than anything if you ask me.”

You freed yourself from Rooster's grip, walked past Hangman, not forgetting to give him a shoulder to end up taking Phoenix in your arms. You pulled away from her and looked the blond straight in the eyes with a playful look, he smiled before asking you a question. “Your dad doesn't like the navy ?”

“Worse. He’s in the navy.” You said with a smirk as the pilot's quickly faded.

“Oh." He said simply as Bradley gently patted his shoulder in comfort.

“I told you ! Now come with me to get you a beer.” The brunet said to him, shaking him slightly so that he regained his senses.

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ««

The evening had gone extremely well, to be honest you had stayed more often with Phoenix than with the others but it was good to see her again after so much time. And then being the only two girls in the evening could sometimes be heavy, unfortunately Halo couldn't come because she had a date that night. But despite everything, you had a great time. Also Hangman had come to see you to apologize for the abrupt advances he had made to you, you could see he was afraid of having problems. You forgave him and with that the atmosphere was no longer heavy and awkward between you two, you even offered him a game of pool which he accepted with a big smile of winner but what he did not know was that you were unbeatable.

Several times during the game your eyes landed on a pilot that you had not been introduced to. He was sitting in a corner with peanuts, he had blonde hair but not like Hangman's, it was darker. He wore glasses that slipped on his nose far too often, his eyes seems like a perfect baby blue but you weren't sure because of the distance between you. You stayed focused on your game but many times you couldn't help but look in his direction, he was often alone during the evening but yet was part of the group. You had spotted Rooster talking to him a few times but the one he stayed with the most was Fanboy if you remember correctly. He spoke softly but mostly listened or observed what was going on around him.

At one point your eyes met and you gave him a mischievous smile that he returned more shyly with a smaller smile. Despite his shyness he was handsome, you wanted to know more about him. You had noticed that he did not drink beer but only water or maybe it was vodka but given the pace at which he drank this was far from possible or he tolerated alcohol extremely well which. In your mind you stayed on water and you couldn’t help it and found that adorable. He seemed so kind and caring, you wanted to go talk to him.

“Who is this ?” You asked Phoenix cutting her off in her explanation.

It must have been twenty minutes since you won your game against Hangman and you were now sitting at a table with the female pilot. You couldn't help but ask her who was the mysterious pilot who intrigued you for a while now.

“Who is who ?” She asked with a smile, leaning towards you to avoid everyone hearing.

“The one with the glasses.” You say, pointing your head towards where the blond was, he was still with Fanboy in a corner.

The woman in front of you moved away and turned in the direction you had just pointed to her even though deep down she suspected who you were talking about, there was only one person here who could wear glasses. When her eyes landed on Bob, she couldn't help but giggle softly. She looked at you before speaking. “Lieutenant Robert “Bob” Floyd, my back seater.”

“He’s cute." You confessed, crossing your arms before sinking a little further into your chair.

You were still watching Robert when your friend's laughter cut you off from your thoughts, “What ?” You asked already bored without even knowing why she was laughing.

“I can't believe it, I never would have imagined this possible. You and Bob ?” She said before leaving in an endless giggle.

You sigh annoyed and as she continued to laugh alone, Bradley came closer to you with a beer in his hands. “What’s happening ?” He asked putting his sunglasses in his Hawaiian shirt pocket.

“Y/N- she- Oh my god-” Phoenix tries to start a sentence but without success, she continues to laugh like crazy with both hands on her stomach as she was laughing so hard.

Bradley smiled at her friend's delight before turning back to you with a confused look, “I just told her I thought… Bob was cute.” You hesitantly say the name of the pilot.

No sooner had you finished your sentence than Natasha laughed even harder, “Nat.” Bradley tried to calm her down. “Nat-”

You weren't even waiting for her to calm down to get up and head to the bar without waiting another minute, you didn't understand why your friend had reacted this way. How the idea that you like the dark blond could make him laugh so much. You leaned on the wood of the bar patiently waiting for Penny to come take your order when you felt a presence to your left, you turned your head slightly to avoid the person seeing you staring. And when you thought you'd come face to face with a civilian, to your surprise the person next to you was the mysterious pilot. Suddenly, for the first time, you felt troubled when absolutely nothing had happened. Usually you didn't like to feel intimidated by others and even less by men, but this time you did, you strangely appreciated the fact of not being in your normal state. You didn't ask yourself any more questions and put this new feeling back on the beers you had drunk tonight. Without really thinking you turned completely to face the male next to you, you lean on the bar and wait for him to turn to face you too but he seems too embarrassed. You could see that his cheeks were slightly pink, which gave you a little more confidence to keep going.

“Bob right ?” You asked in a soft and gripping voice, which created a feeling of well being in the boy in front of you before anything happened.

He turned slowly, uncertain and slightly lost. He looked at you for a moment before putting his glasses back on correctly with the help of his middle finger and then nodding, “Y-yes that's me.” He replied in an almost imperceptible voice.

You smile at his shyness before simply continuing, hoping he would open up to you a little more, “Y/N.”

“I know- Well I mean I heard you with the others earlier." He said, recovering quickly at the end as if he had said something he shouldn't have.

This time if your smile turned into a laugh and Bob swore he had never heard such a sweet melody, once again his cheeks turned red but this time if a feeling of warmth added to his condition, and not only at his cheeks.

“I understood, don't worry.” You reassured him by once again giving him a smile with such sweetness that could have killed him.

But when you were going to continue the conversation Penny cut you off in the middle of your exchange to take his order, he ordered a coke zero and surprisingly turned to you again. “And whatever you want.” He said before taking his wallet out of his uniform pocket to pull out some money.

“Oh no-”

“I insist.” He cut you off with a blow much more confident than before.

You shook your head and gave your order to Penny who rushed to prepare them, despite the fact that it was getting late there were still a lot of people at the Hard Deck. Once your two drinks served you did not stay longer at the bar which began to be overflowing with people wanting to order them too. The table you previously occupied with Phoenix was free again, you indicated to the pilot behind you who nodded and followed you. You settled in quickly to avoid other people taking the table, the pilot in front of you took a sip in his glass before placing it on the table between you two. He looked up and was surprised to see you were already looking at him, his cheeks turning red before he looked away and focused on something else.

Cute.

While he was looking away you smiled and took a sip of your beer before playing with the tag, “So,” you began.

You barely had time to say anything else than the blond turned his head quickly towards you. As you were going to resume you let yourself getting lost in his eyes. They were beautiful. So delicate and sparkling. You were right, his eyes were indeed blue, as deep as the ocean.

“You have very pretty eyes.” You said casually as you turned your head to the side.

Once again Robert couldn't help but blush, he lowered his head slightly, shaking it before looking you straight in the eye, "Thank you." He simply added.

“Why did you pay me a drink ?” You asked quickly after his answer, you couldn't help but smile at his frustrated look.

“Oh uhm… I-well I figured that was the least I could do, since-that I didn't take your-your order when it was my uhm my round.” He said stuttering.

You brought your bottle to your lips without drinking from it, you looked at him attentively as you narrowed your eyes. You observed that the more he spoke, the redder he became. To be honest you thought it was extremely sexy while Robert couldn't stand the burning feeling in his chest anymore.

“No. Why did you really buy me a drink Robert-”

"Bob. Please call me Bob.” He corrected, although he honestly didn't mind hearing you call him by his full name.

"Isn't that your call sign ?"

“Is it but also my name, Robert is too formal.” He said with a sweet smile.

You nodded and continued, “Don't change the subject Bob. Why did you buy me a beer ?”

Bob sighed softly knowing full well that he was defeated and that he had to answer you once and for all, "It's just that I-I thought you were pretty and you-you looked nice so I thought that uhm that-” He began, searching for words to avoid scaring you away.

“That I would go home with you ?”

"What ? Nah, nah I had I would not have thought that. I uhm I just wanted to talk- yeah just a little talk.” He continued as if he had just thought about the real reason he had just offered you a drink.

The pilot looked at you attentively, waiting for your answer to know if the evening was going to stop soon for him or if on the contrary it had only just begun.

"Maybe I want to go home with you." You say softly, leaning slightly towards him so that no one could hear.

Bob widened his eyes surprised at what you had just said and opened his mouth slightly but closed it quickly thinking of what to say, you wasted no more time and got up from your chair. Before you start walking, you turn to the man behind you and give him a smirk and a wink before making your way through the crowd to go dancing, which sends shivers down his spine. Bob swallowed hard, as you disappeared further and further into the crowd of customers, the pilot couldn't help but stare at how your pants made your ass look nice. He looked up directly feeling guilty even though deep down he knew you didn't mind, or so he thought. The idea of ​​joining you crossed his mind but he was far too shy to dance in the middle of all these people. His eyes then fell on the beer he had bought you, he didn't wait another second and drank at once the liquid from the bottle.

Bob was not someone who drank alcohol and he regretted changing things once the burning sensation was no longer in his chest but in his throat, he put the bottle back on the table and got up a little too quickly which caused him to almost fall to the ground. He caught himself at the table and put his glasses back on correctly before heading to the center of the bar where most of the people were dancing. The blond made his way through the crowd and looked for you even if his vision played him a few times, he found you in the middle of the crowd dancing as if no one was around you. Bob watched you intently and froze in place, watching every move you made so intently. The first thing he noticed was the fact that you had taken off your jacket, you were now in a simple white t-shirt but before he could stop himself to look, you opened your eyes that you had kept closed and your gaze fell directly on the pilot who was no longer moving, you smiled and approached him keeping the rhythm of the song playing. You took his hands in yours and reproached him next to you, as you kept up the pace Bob looked like he was having a hard time finding him. You let go of his hands much to his sadness but you quickly put them on his shoulders and leaned closer to him.

“Let yourself go !” You say practically shouting because of the noise.

"I-I don't know how to do that." He confessed, making big gestures with his hands.

"Yes you know ! Don’t pay attention to others, just look at me and listen to the music. And then, it's done !” You explained before taking one of his hands in yours and pulling him towards the center with you.

The song ended softly and gave way to “Murder on the dancefloor”, as the first notes rang out in the bar you looked Bob straight in the eyes and smiled comfortingly at him before starting to move to the beat of the music. Astonishment Bob listened to your advice and let himself be carried away by the melody and closed his eyes shaking his head with the rest of his body, during all the music you never let go of his hand without really realizing it. It was as if this gesture was natural when you didn't even know each other a few hours ago.

You were so in your perfect little bubble that neither of you realized that all the pilots around the pool table were watching you intently, “Since when Bob can dance ?” Asked Coyote amused by what he was watching.

“No the real question is since when Bob interested girls ?” Asked Hangman with his eyebrows frowned.

Phoenix slapped him on the shoulder making him understand to shut up before rooster reacted, “Wasn’t it you a moment ago who made fun of her ?”

“I wasn’t making fun of her !”

“Yes you were-”

“No I wasn’t.” Interrupted Natasha. “I’m just too drunk and thought the idea that Y/N kinda liked Bob was crazy, but come one look at them ! He’s a little rabbit and her a real tiger but they’re really cute- plus Bob’s really nice and Y/N too-”

“Yeah you’re right you had enough drinks tonight.” Said Payback as he took the female by the shoulders to guided her outside, all the pilots followed and decides to call it a night.

When the music came to an end Bob opened his eyes again all smiles and paying no attention to anyone except the girl in front of him, he was only looking at you and couldn't look away. As you were about to speak, he crushed his lips on yours and placed one of his hands on your hip as he placed the other one on your cheek pulling you towards him. You were surprised at his gesture at first, surprised that he had enough courage when he seemed shy but you didn't think more and put your arms around his neck to stick you even more to him. Your lips moved in time with the music which made you smile through the kiss. His lips were soft just like him, your whole body was electrified by his touch and you could start to feel a warm sensation in your lower abdomen that you recognized all too well. Your hands moved in his curls but then you pulled out breathlessly to get some air, you moved slightly apart just enough to breathe but at no time did either of you remove your hands.

You breathed heavily but no one could hear it except him with the noise that was around, you raised your head to look at Bob and you observed that his cheeks but also the tip of his nose were red from to friction of your skins, which made you think again of the feeling of heat in the lower part of your body. You took the collar of his uniform and pulled him towards you to give him a simple kiss on his lips before whispering a sentence in his ear that Bob never thought he will heard one day.

“Please take me to yours and take off this horrible uniform.”

He swallowed hard and nodded quickly, you took your jacket that was on a chair and put it on before taking the blonde's hand back in yours, on the way to the door your eyes met Penny's who was smiling and shaking her head seeing you both. The pilot opens the door and the cool night air hits you suddenly which he notices, he steps closer to you and puts his arm around your shoulders to try to warm you up as much as possible.

“My car is right there.” He said pointing to his car.

Once in front of his car he opened the passenger door and you sat down thanking him, he walked around and quickly settled in his way before turning on the ignition and leaving the Hard Deck parking lot.

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ««

The trip to his apartment seemed like an eternity to you both even though he assured you that he only lived a few minutes from the bar since he was close to the base, during the travel he had set his hand on your thigh which only increased the feeling of warmth and the burning desire. Now you were both in front of the door of his house, while Bob was looking for the right key, you were clinging to his arm leaving him many kisses in the neck which destabilized him enormously but once he found the right key he turned to you and kissed you passionately turning the key in the lock. Once the door opened, he took you by the arm and pulled you with him inside without ever separating your lips from his. He then pushed you against the still open door what closed it and the noise of the slammed made you jump, you were now stuck between the wood and the pilot's body.

“Sorry.” Bob muttered between kisses realizing he might have pushed you a little too hard.

You didn't answer him but deepened the kiss to make him understand that the only thing you were waiting for was him to show you where the bedroom was, his hands went behind you and he pressed your body against his. You took the opportunity to put your arms around his neck again before he started walking with you in the middle of the corridor, he dragged you with him into one of the first rooms of the hallway and closed the door this time with his foot. He continued to walk towards the bed and tried to put you gently on it, even if his gestures remained abrupt, you sank a little more into the mattress since Bob remained glued to you. So you pulled away from him and caught your breath, "Please." You asked him.

“What do you want ?” He asked in a whisper.

“You.”

With that he kissed you again before pulling away completely from you, you leaned back on your two elbows and watched him take off his shoes and then his uniform, you moved further into the bed without forgetting to take off your shoes and starting to take off the rest of your clothes. Once both in your underwear, the man sat with you on the bed and your make out session resumed just as soon. This time it wasn't just a feeling you were really hot and the burning desire in your stomach only grow more and more, it's as if the sun had entered the room. Your two bodies were so close to each other, it was as if you were one. You could almost feel every muscle every time he made a move, the only thing you opened up to was whimpering from the feel of his warm skin against yours. You put your right hand between your two hot bodies and caressed his abs which made him moan in turn, you were for the moment in control of the situation which you felt could escape at any moment. Bob reached his hands in front of your breast before planning a bit with the lace of your white bra, then he placed one of his cold hands behind your back and grabbed your bra clip to untie it, he quickly removed it and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder. He kissed your cheek before going down your neck and took his time to go through the entirety of your skin before going down even more, enough to get to your chest. As he was about to reach your breasts he stopped.

He looked up at you, “Can I ?”

You nodded quickly biting your bottom lip not really expecting that question but you thought that it was incredibly hot.

“‘kay.” He said simply in a whisper before finally taking off his glasses and reaching out to put them on the nightstand next to the bed.

He moved back in front of your chest and placed a simple and delicate kiss on the tip of your right breast which made you moan softly, a sweet melody that Bob wanted to hear again. So that's what he did, he kissed your breast harder and sucked your nipple while kneading the other with the help of his hand. You couldn't hold back, your whimpers were turned into moans much to the blond's delight. One of your hands worked its way through his hair before you dropped your head back, it felt so good.

He released your left breast from his hand and began to kiss it in turn, this time biting lightly on the tip of your nipple which made you moan again. The feeling was so good you couldn’t control your body and moans now, every sound coming from your mouth was controlled by the pilot. At the same time his hand, which was no longer occupied, slid along your skin and found the elastic of your panties. You felt two of his fingers go under the piece of fabric, unlike you his fingers were still icy against your hip as you were burning, the sensation of his hand so close to your core sending shivers down your spine.

He raises his head and you missed the feel of his lips on your chest already but he quickly replaced it with his lips on yours, Bob bit lightly on your bottom lip letting you know he wanted more. So you opened your mouth slowly and he took the opportunity to put his tongue through it, while you were trying to dominate during the kiss to take control of the situation again, you ended up admitting defeat and letting the male take control while the butterflies in your stomach were going to explode. As you felt your crotch getting wetter and wetter, you felt Bob's second hand reach the other side of your panties and pull it gently as if nothing had happened. Quickly you find yourself completely naked in front of him while he was still wearing his underwear then you felt something different deep inside you. Bob was laying kisses down your body starting with your cheek and then your neck but you were too deep in your thoughts at the time to really pay attention. You weren't used to being in a submissive position and yet Bob looked so shy at the bar but now he was confidant, so confidant. You felt small next to him, something you had never felt with anyone. Surprisingly you didn't mind, you were more surprised at your body's reaction to the blonde's actions. You snapped out of your thoughts when you felt heavy breathing on your pussy, you lifted your head from the pillows and looked at the pilot. You had been so preoccupied with your thoughts that you hadn't even felt him come down there.

“Can I ?” He asked once again with his big blue eyes on you waiting impatiently for you to answer him.

“Please stop asking me.” You answer with a needy and febrile voice.

He nodded and parted your legs slightly so he could put his head between them, he took your thighs in his hands and pulled you closer to him which made you laugh softly. He placed them on his shoulders and then placed a simple kiss on your clit which sent electricity through your whole body, you bit your lower lip not wanting to make too much noise but it was a failure when Bob started licking your pussy like a thirsty cat. You let the moans of pleasure that you couldn't contain any longer roll down your tongue. Once again your hands found their way into his curls as he continued to lick faster and harder, you buried the back of your head in the pillows. You had the impression that he had done this all his life, his nose was pressing down on your clitoris as he continued to lick up all of your juices.

“B-Bobby !” You moaned.

The blond let go of one of your thighs that was shaking without his grip and put his hand on your stomach so that his thumb could reach your clitoris and work on it. He pulled away from your crotch and moved his hand to where his head had been a moment ago, he let go of your clit and placed two of his fingers at your entrance. He got up and moved over to stand right next to you so he could see your face and kiss you, which he did before pushing his fingers inside you. Surprised you opened your mouth and grabbed his bicep which was right next to you, you looked him in the eye all the way and you could see an indelible smirk on his face.

“You’re so tight-” He whispered as he started moving inside of you.

“I- please.” You tried to form a sentence but it was impossible, what he was doing to you gave you too much pleasure to be able to say anything.

“Shh darling, let yourself go remember ?” He said as he repeat your own words from earlier at the Hard Deck.

Due to your inability to say anything, Bob took the opportunity to speed up the movements. His fingers were the perfect size, they went deep enough to find the spot that was going to make you cum. So deep in you that you were seeing stars right now, the sensation of burning in your stomach was definitely still there. He was able to hit the exact spot you wanted like as if he known your body by heart, your grip around his arm tightened and your legs were shaking so much you felt like you were going to explode at any moment. And while you felt it coming more and more Bob added his thumb again on your clit and play with it which made you cum hard on his fingers.

“Bobby !” You cried out in pleasure as your back arched.

The pilot leaned towards you pulling his fingers away and kissed you gently while you were still in a trance after what had just happened. He picked up a tissue that was on his nightstand right next to his glasses and quickly cleaned his fingers before giving you his full attention again. He leaned down and continued to kiss you, placing himself right on top of you, you put your arms around his neck to keep him as close to you as possible.

Out of breath you parted but he pressed his forehead to yours, “So…”

“It was intense.”

“Intense ?” He asked.

“Intense.”You confirm by closing your eyes a quick second before opening them again. “D-Do you want to continue or-”

“Like you want. I don't want to rush you.” He said honestly.

You kissed his lips before continuing, “Bobby I loved this moment but I think I'm too tired to continue anything.”You say shyly, afraid that he will react badly.

“No problem.” He said softly kissing your cheek before dropping on top of you making sure not to hurt you. He placed his head on the side of your neck and left a few kisses there, “Thank you for this moment.” He spoke again after a moment of silence.

“I should be the person to thank you, I didn't do anything.” You say, laughing softly before getting serious again. “Do you mind if I just take my panties back ?”

He rolled directly onto the mattress apologizing quickly, you assured him it was nothing and stood up to pick up your panties and your t-shirt. You put on the pieces of clothes and asked him where his bathroom was, he showed you the direction and you left the room. Once in the bathroom you quickly cleaned yourself with toilet paper then put it in the trash and fixed your hair by tying it in a bun, you looked at yourself in the mirror trying to realized what just happened. It wasn��t in your habits to do one night stand things but the moment was so good and you never thought you were going to say something like that but you felt a connection with the pilot. You didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow and you didn't want to think about it but you were sure it wasn't the last time you were going to hear about Robert Floyd You scratch your right shoulder as you start laughing at your reflection. “Oh my god.” You whispered.

When you returned to his room, Bob was lying on his back but he didn't turn around when you entered. You approached the bed cautiously and slipped in silently realizing that the man was asleep, you smiled at yourself and placed the covers correctly on both of your bodies. You approached him and put your arm around him to stay close before placing your head on his shoulder but as you closed your eyes you fell asleep immediately due to fatigue in the arms of one of the sexiest man you ever met.

[simpforrooster]

the best pilot in the navy.

pete “maverick” mitchell x f!simpson reader

summary: your admiral father allows you to work control room during the uranium mission, despite your relationship with maverick. the pilot who’s a pain in his ass.

t/w: some angst, language. fluff at the end. not sure if the specifics are navy accurate, but let me have this xD

“can you handle this, captain?” you father asked you in his office.

“yes, sir,” you replied.

he studied your face. “you know there are risks-“

you cut him off. “yes, sir. i know that. i know that every time he flies in that plane he may not come back.”

the admiral mask fell from his face. working with your father, admiral simpson has its ups and downs. throw in you dating one of his subordinates. then have that subordinate bc roughly the same age as your dad.

yeah.

“y/n. now answer the question as my daughter.”

your mask slipped as well. “i’ll be fine, dad. promise. mav is a hell of a pilot.”

“dagger one is hit. i repeat, dagger one is hit!”

the words you’ve been praying to avoid echo in your ears. your boyfriend is flying dagger one.

you struggle not to look over your shoulder at your father, not wanting to give him any reason to regret allowing you to work the control room for this mission.

“asking permission to launch search and rescue,” hangman comes over the coms.

“negative,” your father says.

that does it. you spin around in your chair, ignoring hangman who is waiting on you to relay the admiral’s answer.

“sir?” he calls again.

your eyes hold your father’s, matching in color and glare. “dad,” you squeak out.

“he’s waiting on the answer, captain.” his admiral mask is firm, unwavering.

“we can’t leave him out there,” you press. hondo meets your eyes, the same sadness holding there.

“there is nothing we can do for maverick. not in a damn f-18.” the words spear through your heart.

you’re not an idiot. you know he’s right. that's been the whole point of the extensive training, the enemies superoir aircraft.

“negative, spare,” you relay.

your heart grows heavier in your chest as the seconds go by. your concentration ebbs and flows from the monitor. the dots of the other daggers get closer to the boat.

natasha and bob.

coyote and fanboy.

rooster.

not maverick.

not maverick.

the sounds of the control room go silent, replaced by a high pitched whine. water drips onto your keyboard. is the roof leaking?

it takes a second to realize those are your tears.

you launch your headphones toward the monitor and slide back from the desk. you can't take it.

you can't take it.

"captain simpson!" your fathers calls. his booming voice is enough to get you to stop for a millisecond. "do not walk out that door."

ignoring him, you run out into the hallway, hondo on your tail.

his burly arms wrap around you from behind. the action makes the tears fall from your eyes without abandon.

"i know," he murmurs above your ear. "i know."

mav tried to tell you goodbye before he left and you wouldn't let him.

"hondo! simpson! get back in here. rooster turned around and was shot down!" warlock orders.

damn it, rooster.

slipping back into the control room, you expertly avoid your father’s heavy gaze. it’s like the two of you have time-traveled back to your high school days, and he got a call from the school about your excessive talking.

the two of you being cut from the same cloth makes working together tooonns of fun.

swiping away stray tears, you get to work.

“sir, rooster’s radio just turned back on. but he’s supersonic,” the controller next to you says. you peer over at his monitor. sure enough, the rooster dot is moving at a steady pace.

your gaze finds the admiral’s. “maverick,” he says.

your heart swells at the thought of maverick still being alive.

“they’ve got bandits on them,” you say.

“send out spare one,” your father tells you.

com-ing over to hangman, he’s up in the air in no time.

~

waiting for mav and rooster to make it back to the boat felt like eons. as they approached, everyone left the control room to meet them on deck.

you follow warlock and your dad up to the tower.

as your stare out over the water, trying to spot the place your boyfriend’s in, your dad’s voice fills the air.

“i hope you understand my call,” he says.

holding your gaze over the water, you want to pick a fight. you want to scream and argue. you want him to feel the heartbreak you felt in that moment.

the moment he didn’t allow hangman to go over mav.

but you understood.

you truly did. of course losing one pilot was better than two. the thought makes you want to throw up.

“i do. i told you i could handle the mission,” you reply, your back still turned.

his hand comes up to your shoulder, lightly squeezing, the admiral mask slipping.

you turn, knowing you’ll get your dad and not your admiral. once your eyes meet, the tears fall from your eyes.

“i was so scared,” you say into his chest. cyclone pulls you tight against him, a dad holding his girl tight.

your sobs subside when warlock points towards the distance. “thank God, there they are.”

cyclone slips back into admiral mode right as maverick buzzes the tower. the three of you are jostled at the sound and speed of it.

your father cocks an eyebrow at you. seriously, this is who you want to be with?

all you can do is offer him a grin before running from the tower.

on deck, maverick and rooster accept hugs and slaps on the back. maverick gives everyone a polite acknowledgment, his head craning for someone.

for you.

once he sees you, relief floods his face. “oh, baby,” he says, that relief palpable in his voice. he grabs you, pulling you into him, one hand in your hair, the other around your waist.

again, you don’t bother hiding the tears. he pulls back, his thumbs running across your cheeks. “i’m here. i’m here. i’m okay.”

your hands run over his body, checking for injuries. any scratches to his perfect self.

“talk to me, simpson,” he says, his voice wary.

it’s like you’ve forgotten how to speak with the flood of emotions. instead, you pull him down to you, enveloping his mouth with a kiss.

a kiss you were afraid you’d never be able to give him.

maverick rests his forehead against yours, “i was so worried about you.”

“me?” finally finding your voice. “i was worried about you.”

“haven’t i told you not to worry about me? i’m the best pilot in the navy,” he smirks. you playfully shove him back, letting hondo greet his friend.

the two men wrap each other in a tight embrace. maverick pulls back first, glancing up to the tower. warlock pumps his fist and your father nods his reluctant approval.