#dark nick and mav

[aki-draws-things]

The omegaverse au grows...

It's not a nice story so far. Nick is not a nice alpha, and neither is mav. But nick mostly likes to guilt trip Ron so much, ever since Ron was younger and nick basically bought him.

Ron is an omega, younger than in canon (I'm thinking of setting this au in the one where Ron is the same age as mav, just because. It will make tom even more protective.)

Tom is still Ron's pilot, he would like to scoop him away and ran, but he can't, needs to be careful.

(Chris seresin be there too. He's an Alpha already with a bond to tom. If possible he will be even more protective.)

(Also... I don't write smut, usually. Please, mercy....)

@oh-surprise-its-me

Not every Alpha, Ron told himself. Not every alpha was like that.

Nick wasn't like that either, in truth, Ron  convinced himself staring at his reflection in the mirror,  the bruise around his eye carefully concealed with enough makeup that his skin would appear normal. Untouched. 

Nick was like that because Ron pushed him.

He knew his alpha was jealous,  he knew he made a mistake when he chose to become iceman RIO and take his distance from him. From his alpha! His mate. Hos protector. Because that was Nick,  at the end of the day. His savior from a father who cared nothing. The beacon in the darkness that took him away from an almost certain early death. Nick bought him, he saved him, he even gave him a chance to fly. Not many omega become navy aviators, it was because of nick if he had the chance. And how did he repay him? He left. He walked, flew away with tom. Like the stupid omega he was. It was normal Nick was angry now.

But Ron would make it alright, he said. Ron would make amend for that.

There was a new alpha strutting beside nick. He was small, physically looking more like an omega, but the smell, oh it was unmistakable.  Everything about Maverick screamed alpha so very loud and fast.

Ron, on the other hand-- 

"He still smells like Iceman."

Maverick's voice was almost a whine coming from the bed. Ron flinched.

He showered carefully, he used the soap Nick chose, despite the pine smell being so strong and he really didn't like it. Plus, it itched on his skin, for some reason, but he wouldn't complain, Nick liked it, and he would use it.

"I know, Mavi."

Ron could hear a barely concealed growl in his tone. He didn't move. He waited.

"Come here sweetheart. Let's get that stench away, mh?"

He didn't smell tom on himself, he was sure, so very sure, and he knew because he missed his smell, but he couldn't refuse, there would be consequences,  bad ones. 

He shuffled on bare feet back in the bedroom,  allowed Maverick to grab his hand, wrap his fingers around his wrist and pull him on the bed. He bit his shoulder before Nick even moved. Nick laughed, his hand in Ron's hair,  grasping, pulling.

"So eager, my little alpha."

Ron felt blood trickle from his shoulder.

"I like how he tastes, Goose. can you blame me?" He looked like a predator, grinning, licking his lips, passing his tongue over the bite. "It's all your fault, you made me taste him once. You should've warned me Omegas were addictive. I've never had one before."

Like Ron was a meal or something. Nick pinned him down. Training would start in 30 minutes--

"Don't worry about that sweetheart. We'll make sure you're nice and presentable for that. and Iceman will know who you belong to. We only lend you to him because he needs a RIO, and without you in his backseat things would be so boring here."

Tom could beat them even without him, Ron knew that. He remained quietly careful not to let it slip out.

"Say, Mavi... do you want the honor? I'm... I feel generous today."

Ron felt Maverick shift over him, he could feel excitement wash over the younger Alpha. his fingers digging into his arm, it would leave a mark, Ron knew. But it would be covered by the flight suit, and anyway everyone knew he was an omega, and as any good, proper one he had to please and bear the marks his Alpha left on him. It should've been proud of showing them. And he was so lucky, he forced his brain to think, he had two Alphas taking care of him.

(He didn't want to. but oh, he would show off any mark Tom would ever decide to put on him. Except Tom never left marks, Tom was careful, Tom was oh so gentle. Tom, he delusionally thought to himself, truly loved him.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle, You'll even be able to sit after."

"Oh Mavi... You've always been such a softie." Nick chuckled. "But you shouldn't worry about that. just have all the fun you want, look at him, he exists only to please us, why care if he can or cannot sit after?"

"We have a debrief. It would be so distracting to have him squirm around because he can't sit still. Just imagine all those hungry ones in the room eyeing him, Goose. Can't have that."

There had been a time Ron thought Maverick could be more like Tom, gentle, nice. How silly of him to think that, Nick showed him around, he took him under his wing, how could he be different from him?

"smart, yeah. well honey, have it your way, then."

For a brief, fleeting moment, Ron thought he would warn him or something. he hoped, because he promised and-- 

But maverick was Nick's precious baby alpha, Ron should've known better than trust any word coming out of his mouth.

He bit him, again, on the other shoulder, Ron suppressed a moan, biting down on the pillow. He penetrated him without warning.

Ron yelped, shame washing over him at the sound he tried so hard to keep to himself.

"Careful Mavi. Don't fill him up, even though that's what such a pretty omega deserves. Save it for after , when we're off deployment."

"But won't he be sent with Iceman?"

Goose growled and with suppressed laughter maverick thrusts grew faster.

"He's my... our omega. After this, Iceman will have to find a brand new rio."

Maverick grinned, bit down on him again, exactly over the previous mark, licked the contour, sucked hard, enough to bruise. 

"Ours?"

"Ours." Nick confirmed. "And you will have your nice little pup. Give little Brad a brother or sister to play with. Hopefully our sweetheart will be good enough to give us a little alpha, mh?" 

He didn't want a kid, Ron thought. He never wanted one. Not with Maverick. Certainly not with Nick. Not even with Tom-- Well, maybe if Tom asked, he-- kids were troublesome, even more in their line of work. A kid meant he would not fly for an extended time, and carrying a kid could-- it could kill him. Break him. He saw it happen. Besides, he wasn't cut to be a parent, he had no idea where to start, not with the kind of father he had. The father who sold him off to Nick to begin with.

"I said, you will be good enough, yes?"

Nick grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. He whined.

"Come on sweetheart, he asked you a question." Maverick said, his voice dangerously close and sweet.

Ron nodded.

"Let us hear your voice when you answer honey."

He opened his mouth again to answer when Maverick thrusted faster and deeper inside of him, on purpose, he knew, and all Ron could do was let out a loud moan.

Nick patted his head with a chuckle.

"Well, that's good too. so good, right Mavi?"

Maverick was wrapped on him, the height difference almost painfully obvious, but crumpled on the bed, left a moaning, sweaty mess, it was so clear that Ron was so much not an Alpha like he tried to pass the very first day, before Nick set his eyes back on him and decided he let him off the hook for far too long and he wanted that rightfully his omega back to himself. Sharing him with Maverick was almost obvious.

A couple more thrusts before Maverick raised his head slightly.

"Turn around baby, I want to look at you."

It took a bit of trying, with Maverick still holding so tight.

Ron's face was flushed red, half- lidded eyes staring at Maverick.

"Please..." He whispered, he wasn't even sure anymore what he was praying him for. Release from that torture? to finish him? fill him until he blacked out completely? His mind was blank already, and the two Alphas both knew.

Maverick seemed to think of it for a moment, he smirked.

"Open up."

If anything, Ron's eyes grew wider.

"Not your eyes baby." he chuckled, he moved slowly. Put his thumb in Ron's mouth.

"We don't want to make a mess, right? because you know what happens if you make a mess. So be good now baby. Be good and swallow it all."

Ron felt choking as Maverick came in his mouth.

"God, Mavi... you really know how to bring out the best look on him, don't you? So damn pretty."

A couple longer seconds before Maverick pulled out and looked at him satisfied.

"Clean yourself up, quick. we have a lesson in 10, we won't be late because our omega needs some care."

Hard, almost cruel, so different from a moment ago, and yet not that much, Ron knew.

"Are you okay?"

Tom asked, purposely ignoring Nick's low growl from where he was sitting in front of them, Maverick leaned back in his chair, relaxed.

"I'm good, Ice." His voice felt weird, raw, his throat hoarse, lips still red and swollen. He heard Chipper inspire harshly when he walked inside next to Tom, he knew why. Jesus, he must be smelling like Maverick so damn much.

"Okay." Tom said, slowly. He wrapped an arm around Ron's shoulder, but in a quick movement, Ron moved himself. 

"We-- you can't." He muttered, not even looking at him. "Please." 

Reluctantly, Tom dropped his arm off of Ron's shoulder. Goose grinned.

#ron slider kerner #nick goose bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #omega ron #alpha mav #alpha nick #alpha tom #omegaverse au #dark nick and mav #abuse tw #noncon tw #pretty much #top gun fanfiction #top gun 1986 #aki writes

[bradleysweetheart]

“i wish they showed that rooster had a sense of humor like goose did.” … goose didn’t have the extremely traumatic childhood rooster did.

rooster lost his dad at 4, then watched his mother slowly die of cancer by the time he was a teenager, then at 18 (when his mom was most likely dead already) his dads best friend/his godfather/uncle/pseudo father pulled his papers from the academy (w/o telling rooster why) which rooster only wanted to join in the first place bc it was a way to be with his dead father 😭😭😭

#bradley’s 100% making the dead parent jokes #that man’s humor is dark. #he is prob silly at times but def not as silly as goose #like let’s not compare the man w/ a wife & kids at 24 to the man who was single at 35 #let’s not compare the man w/ a wife & kid at 25 to the man single w/ no one at 35 #top gun #top gun 1986 #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun mav #tgm #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster #rooster bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #nick bradshaw #nick goose #goose bradshaw

[vixenobrian]

Seeing Ghosts

This is the first fic I've written here, so I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

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

"Bradley honey, I'm home!"

No answer.

I sighed, setting down the groceries on the island countertop. I knew he was home, the Bronco sitting in the driveway was a clear indication of that, but I also knew why I had received radio silence.

"How was Mav?" I asked, almost scared of the answer myself.

"Mav's fine hun." Bradley retorted. He must have been upstairs in the bedroom, hiding away from me. I understood how hard this must have been on him, but not seeing my husband run down the stairs and greet me with a kiss when I walked through the door still kind of hurt my feelings. Still, I knew how important his space was after his visits.

"How are you bubs?" I called back. Nothing.

Mav had been in and out of the hospital for months now, more and more parts of his body slowly giving way. For a man who wasn't supposed to live past his 30s, everyone was certainly surprised to see it was in fact old age that did him in. Recently though, it was his brain that was going, and this seemed to be the hardest on everyone.

Bradley had been struggling, badly. Between his parents and Ice, Mav was the only one he had left, and to see him slowly slipping away, losing both his body and mind at the same time? Bradley had barely been able to stand it. Each night he would come home after visiting, crawl into bed, and simply lay his head on my chest and cry. I really wasn't sure what else to do at this point, other than be there for him.

I sighed, grabbing the fancy bottle of wine I picked up from the grocery store, before heading upstairs. We both needed a pick me up, and what better way than a good wine, and a home-cooked meal.

"Roos, darling," I called, slightly pushing open the door to our bedroom. I vaguely caught a glimpse of his figure, but I pushed right past it, wanting to grab the things I knew he needed and was probably avoiding. When he got like this, he tended to neglect his medicine, and I knew if I took a glance at him, I would have too. I grabbed the bottle off of the bathroom counter, seeing it right next to his spread-out shaving kit. I pushed back into the bedroom, finally looking him in the eyes.

"Roos, I have a- oh God!"

Rooster sat on the edge of the bed, his big broad shoulders slumped over in defeat. I could tell he had been crying by the dark red circles around his eyes, but none of this is what concerned me. Above Rooster's top lip laid no mustache, something he had worn with pride for years. He always considered it his best feature and took meticulous care in grooming it. I had never even seen him without it. I knew something had to have been terribly wrong.

I sat down the wine on the dresser, my excitement fleeting with the bottle, before reaching for his face. I brought my legs over him, straddling his lap, before taking his face into both of my heads. Immediately, I began to wipe his tears, while simultaneously peppering kisses to his cheeks.

"Roos, honey, what happened?"

"He called me Nick again."

My heart sank, pulling him fully into my embrace. I felt tears start to fall from my own eyes and the boy beneath me began to sob, shaking in my embrace. His hands clenched the back of my shirt, as I attempted to comfort him in his sorrows.

"Bradley, I am so sorry," I said. I felt guilty. I felt anger toward Maverick, even though I knew none of it was his fault. Still, he had hurt Bradley, my Bradley, and the anger that came with that radiated through me. I took a deep breath, trying to push these emotions down.

"I just want him to see me" He whimpered into my shoulder. My hand found the nape of his neck, slowly playing with his hair there. It was his comfort spot, and I felt him slowly relax into me, letting all of his body weight fall freely as if we were being combined into one. I let him lay here for a few minutes, switching between playing with his hair and rubbing his back, before slowly backing away, and once again taking his face into my hands.

"Bradley, honey, I am so sorry that happened to you, but I need you to know, no matter what happens, Maverick loves you so much sweet boy," I comforted, "and on top of that, I love you so much. So no matter what, you are loved, Bradley."

He pulled me in the back of my neck, planting a sweet kiss right on my lips. The lack of hair felt foreign to me and caught me off guard. I pulled away, still holding his face in my hands, when I noticed his cheeks turning a color red.

"So, how bad is it?" He asked genuinely, causing me to chuckle.

"You are still the most handsome man in the world Bradshaw," I told him genuinely, "but how long before it grows back?"

#miles teller #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun rooster #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #top gun: maverick #rooster top gun #top gun #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw angst

[topgun-imagines]

Day 10: Blood In The Water

Pairings: Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw x sister!reader, Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x fem!reader

Synopsis: What would have happened if it was you, Ice’s RIO, in that flat spin instead of Goose?

Warnings: mentions of death, panic attacks, crying, fainting, engine failure & plane crashes.

Note: wouldn’t mind expanding on this one after whumptober if people are interested

Word count: 1.3k

“Come on, Mav!” You called from behind Ice. The two of you were currently flying right behind Maverick, the arrogant pilot having cut you off to get a shot on the bogey. After many attempts, he was unsuccessful and now refusing to move to let you and Iceman get the shot. He was too close to get a proper shot lined up. The pissing contest between the two was really starting to get out of hand. “Get the hell out of there!”

With a roll of your eyes, you gave up on yelling at your brother's best friend and spoke to Ice instead. After little encouragement from you, it was his turn to yell at Maverick. “Mav! Come off high right,” You grinned, ready for Ice to make the shot. However, Mav insisted that he only needed five more seconds. “Come off high right, Mav. I’m in.” Everything seemed to be going fine. You and Ice were about to make the shot, putting you on top of the scoreboard.

But in the blink of an eye, everything went to hell.

“I’m off. Shit!” Maverick hissed, quickly pulling up and to the right. For a second, you were elated. This was the point that would put you over the edge. You were seconds away from winning the Top Gun trophy. That was before your stomach dropped and you realized what exactly was happening.

You froze, eyes screwed shut as you screamed at Ice. “We’re in his jet wash!” Distantly, you heard Ice curse in front of you. Your head was pounding against your skull, horror surging through your veins. The only thing you could do was hope that Ice could pull you out of it. This was not good. You peeled your eyes open when you heard a sensor going off. “Shit! We’ve got a flame out, Ice!” More sensors went off as your jet continued to spiral. “Engine one is out! Engine two is out!”

It was then that you heard the words you never wanted to hear from your pilot. He called your name in a rush. “I’m losing control, I’m losing control!” The panic in his voice was unlike anything you had ever heard before. “I ca- I can’t control it! It won’t recover!” He cussed again as the jet spun uncontrollably through the air.

You looked up with tears in your eyes, watching the view from the canopy switch from the dark ocean below to the bright blue sky. “We’re out of control! This is not good!” Before you could stop it, a sob bubbled out of your chest. It wasn’t often that you cried, and you knew that Ice needed you to be level-headed, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were about to die.

When Ice heard you crying behind him, it was as if something clicked in his mind. Suddenly, you stopped spinning. Now your jet was headed straight for the ocean. As a kid, you loved the water; splashing around in it with your brother. Now? Not so much. Through heavy breaths, you blinked sluggishly. Everything felt funny. Your head became fuzzy, it was harder to breathe and you felt sick to your stomach.

And then everything went dark.

In front of you, Ice was focused on pulling the two of you out of the flat spin. The two of you were going to make it through this. He was sure of it.

Only one hundred meters away, Goose watched, helpless as his baby sister and her pilot spun out of control. He would never tell Maverick this, but if there was one person that he was confident could recover from a flat spin, it was Iceman. When you had followed Goose to the academy only a few years after him, needless to say, he was worried. He was even more worried when you were paired with the infamous Iceman. After all, you were his baby sister. Nick Bradshaw would lay his life down to protect you. And everyone knew that.

One night, only a few days after you and Iceman had been paired up, Goose approached the cocky pilot that he considered his friend. Regardless of the fact that some would have assumed that Goose was really questioning Ice’s skill, Ice knew that your brother was simply looking out for you. And that was something that he could understand. That night, your pilot had promised to protect you with his life. If he could help it, no harm would ever come to you.

A few months later, Goose met Maverick. Even though Mav wasn’t at the academy, the two grew inseparable almost instantly. You had met Mav many times before being reunited with the pilot at Top Gun, however, he had never met your pilot. When you walked into the first class only a few weeks ago, Maverick’s jaw dropped at the sight of you strutting in with Iceman’s arm thrown over your shoulders. Needless to say, he was a bit jealous.

Maverick was never a religious man. But now, even he was praying that Ice could pull this off. Right now, his ego didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for saving you and Iceman. Did he like the pilot? No. Did that mean that he wanted to watch him crash into the ocean? Hell no. Especially not if it meant you were going with him. You and Goose were the only family he had left. He wasn’t about to lose you.

“Mayday! Mayday! Ice is in trouble!” Simultaneously, Maverick and Goose’s jaws dropped. They both watched Ice pull off a miracle. Your jet was no longer spinning out of control. Instead, it was rising steadily. Even over the coms, they could hear Ice breathe a sigh of relief. But they weren't quite done yet. The next step was getting all four of you back to land without another incident.

Back on land, you were lying on the tarmac, out cold with Ice, Mav, and your brother hovering protectively over you. Ever so slowly, you blinked your eyes open, gasping quietly at the sight of the three aviators hovering over you. You only had a second to process what was happening before Goose collapsed onto you, clinging to you for dear life. There was a small smile on your face as you hugged him back.

Ice and Maverick sat back on their heels and made eye contact. Where there normally would have been anger or disdain, there was now thankfulness and understanding. A nod was shared between the two. And then your brother was launching himself at Iceman. Chuckling at the sight of your pilot's shocked face, you sat up slowly with the help of Mav. Ice shot a dazzling smile at you from over your brother’s shoulder and patted his back in reassurance.

“Thank you,” Goose pulled back, his expression as serious as you had ever seen it. “Thank you so much for keeping her safe.” Everyone’s expressions became sombre at the reality of what could have happened. Ice only nodded at your brother.

You were the next to hug him, falling into his arms and sniffling into his chest. His strong arms wrapped securely around you, keeping you anchored to the ground, to him. You could have sworn you heard him sniffle, but no one else ever had to know. When you sniffled again, holding him tighter, he rocked the two of you back and forth. And neither your brother, nor Maverick, needed to know that he pressed a delicate kiss to your temple seconds later.

a/n: hope you enjoyed! Join the taglist!

Tagging: @ohtobeleah @xoxabs88xox @bradleybeachbabe @oldermenaremyreligion @els-marvelvsp @kmc1989 @nyx2021 @mploopssek @callsignharper @seitmai @kellyls04 @scarletmeii @inkandarsenic

#top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun x female reader #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #top gun fluff #tom iceman kazansky #top gun 1986 #tom iceman kazansky fanfic #tom kazansky imagine #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x reader #tom kazansky fic #tom kazansky smut #tom kazansky #nick goose bradshaw #nick bradshaw angst #nick bradshaw #nick bradshaw smut #nick bradshaw x reader #nick bradshaw fluff #nick bradshaw x you #Nick goose Bradshaw x female reader #goose angst #goose x reader #goose masterlist #goose x sister reader #Nick Bradshaw x sister reader #iceman x reader #iceman top gun

[theharddeck]

santa baby (been an awful good girl) // coyote x f!reader

pairing: javy coyote machado x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: coyote dresses up as santa + reader is only human = reader and coyote get it on in santa's workshop

word count: 6.6k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: unprotected sex, explicit PiV sex, a bit of dumbification, slight overstimulation, lowkey desecrating the concept of christmas but like in a hot way

A/N: i...i have no excuse. thinking of javy being dorky during sex has effectively ruined me. merry chrysler

The second Sunday in December was the tree-lighting at Miramar. 

The event entailed, of course, the lighting of the tree at the center of base, but also a crafts market, an ugly-Christmas sweater competition, and breakfast-for-dinner, but most importantly: a meet and greet with Santa. 

While it wasn’t required attendance for any of the Service members, most everyone who wasn’t on leave found some way to be involved. You found yourself at the cookie decorating station, trying to teach kids a modicum of restraint, and sneaking glances at your boyfriend over in Santa’s Workshop. 

That’s right, Javy Machado – distinguished Lieutenant, Louisiana’s finest, and your personal hero – was currently drowning in red velvet and faux ermine, dressed up as jolly old Saint Nick. His diamond-sharp jawline was hidden behind a monstrosity of a fake beard, but he had managed to master the twinkle in his eye. The night was winding down, but he showed no waning energy, just endearing interest in each and every child that made its way into the small structure. 

You could just barely see him through the front window of the Workshop, but every time you looked over at him, your heart fluttered. 

It was the way he hunched his shoulders, clearly trying to diminish his size to make himself seem less intimidating. 

It was the way he met each child’s eye, exuding comfort and kindness. 

It was how after a couple of minutes, even the shyest child seemed to relax against him, how their smiles brightened and their giggles echoed around the family center. 

You knew Javy was a total sweetheart, but it made you so proud to see how special he was making this Christmas for each of these kids, some of whom were having a dark season with their parents being deployed. 

There was a clatter and you looked away from the workshop to find RJ, one of Payback’s kids, looking guiltily up at you, holding an entire paper plate covered in Snowman sprinkles. The faint outline of a sugar cookie was visible under the blue-and-white pile, but not by much. 

Good thing it was only the ninetieth time this had happened today. 

“Happens all the time,” you said brightly, keeping your voice happy so the kid wouldn’t panic, and thinking of a diversionary topic. “Did you see Santa already?”

RJ nodded, willingly distracted. 

“He said he’d get me a Lego set!” he said, the slight lisp in his voice absolutely adorable. “A Lego set!” you repeated, folding the plate slightly so that you could pour the excess sprinkles into a dixie cup. “One of the Star Wars ones??”

“Yep!” RJ told you excitedly, his eyes widening, the sprinkles dilemma forgotten. “With an X-wing, so I can have a plane, like Daddy!” 

You finished pouring off the sprinkles, and turned the still-overly-sprinkled-but-now-recognizable-as-a-cookie plate back to RJ. He grinned up at you through a missing tooth and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

Payback might be nearly as bossy as Mav when you were up in the air, but he did have damn cute children. 

You were halfway through helping RJ with a sleigh-shaped cookie when the Christmas music they’d been cranking turned off with reverb, and someone cheerily announced over the loudspeaker that it was time for the festivities to draw to a close. Overhead lights turned on, dispelling the ambiance created by thousands of christmas lights, but you were halfway through the cookie, so you two kept working on it. 

What were they going to do? 

At some point, Reuben came over with a couple wrapped packages tucked under his arm, giving you a grateful look for keeping an eye on his son. 

The only warning you had was RJ’s reverent gasp and the widening of his eyes before you felt familiar hands on your waist and an unfamiliar beard scratching your neck. 

“Santa,” RJ breathed, and you tried to delicately step out of Javy’s grasp as he realized he couldn’t exactly greet his real-life girlfriend while there were still kids who believed in the magic of Santa within eyesight.

Javy cleared his throat and you pressed your lips together to hide a smile as you watched your boyfriend stand up straighter under the boy’s worshipful gaze.  

“RJ,” Javy said, his voice pitched lower than normal, to disguise it, and you noticed he was avoiding Reuben’s gaze pretty determinedly. “Doing some serious cookie decorating, I see?”

RJ nodded animatedly, holding up his plate to show “Santa” and nearly tipping both cookies off it in the process. Reuben dove for it, and you tried not to laugh, leaning lightly against Javy. You noticed absently that he must’ve taken the suit padding out, because you could feel his stomach through the red velvet.

Unfortunately, when RJ looked up from his plate, he noticed your lean, as well as Javy’s hand on your hip. He frowned, his small forehead wrinkling, and he tipped his head up at Javy. 

“That’s Coyote’s girlfriend,” he told Javy archly. 

“Uh,” Javy stalled, and you again found yourself fighting the urge to laugh, “yes. And…that’s why I want to steal her away for a moment. Coyote’s been a really good boy this year, and I want to talk about what kind of present he would want.”

RJ’s eyes narrowed, and he was about to say something else, before Reuben gave an exasperated sigh. 

“For God’s sake,” he muttered, reaching for RJ’s cookie plate, effectively poaching the boy’s attention. 

“Let’s show these cookies to your Ma, yeah, Junior?” he asked, before turning back to you and Javy. “And you two– behave.”

He spun on his heel, and RJ waved enthusiastically to you before following his father happily, and you turned to Javy, smiles breaking over both of your faces. 

“Not your most graceful, lieutenant,” you teased him, but Javy was already looking around the recreation center. 

With the overhead lights on, and the Christmas music off, it was rapidly emptying. Teams had already been tasked to come in tomorrow to clean it out, so for now everyone was clearing out, trying to get their kids home before the sugar crash set in, and Javy’s gloved hand found one of yours. 

“Come on,” he said quietly, in his normal voice, and you followed him instinctively when he tugged lightly on your grasp. 

You were surprised when he led you back over to Santa’s Workshop, and you ducked into the entryway. 

It wasn’t a large space, something constructed of red and green painted plywood pieces, barely big enough to accommodate Santa’s throne. The throne itself was a replica of the Iron Throne that Fanboy had paid a preposterous amount for, and had been convinced to donate to the greater good. He had then had to be led away from in agony, as Army Wives sanded down the pointy edges, and repainted the swords as candy canes.

“Nice digs, Santa,” you said wryly, your sentence ending on a squeak as Javy pulled you into his arms. 

Kissing him with the fake beard was funny, but his mouth was distracting enough that you soon forgot. 

You melted into him as you always did, your hands pressed against his broad chest. Javy’s strong arms banded around you as he kissed you hungrily, like he’d been waiting, like he’d been missing you. He tasted like peppermint, like the candy canes the “elves” (Natasha and Jake) had forced on him any time he started looking bored. 

When he pulled back, you were breathless, blinking up at him slowly. 

Javy smiled at you softly, his own chest rising and falling underneath your hands. He was so unbelievably handsome, always, but you loved his sweet smile. 

Especially how it looked from this close. 

“Hi,” you whispered, and Javy groaned, leaning down to kiss you again. 

His tongue swept into your mouth, and your knees almost buckled, causing you to cling to his shoulders. He was so strong, so big, and you knew he loved holding you, nearly as much as you treasured being held.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, and you felt your skin heat. You were just wearing a festive sweater under a pinafore-style skirt, aiming for comfort and festivity over something that accentuated your figure.

“It’s just a–” you tried, but Javy made a disapproving sound and kissed you firmly, interrupting your rationalization. 

“Beautiful,” he insisted, after a moment, and you nodded dazedly. 

Javy hummed, approving, and he shifted to pull off his gloves. A moment later, you felt his index finger under your chin. He tilted your head up towards him, and his kiss turned gentle, indulgent. 

“I could feel you watching me, you know,” Javy murmured, between kisses. 

 You shivered when his thumb brushed over your jaw. 

“Hard not to,” you managed to say. 

Javy laughed, a low, warm sound, that you felt like a caress. 

“What is it, honey,” he teased, brushing light kisses up your cheek, and ducking his head to reach behind your ear, “the red velvet doing it for you?”

You let out a breathy gasp when you felt his teeth ghost over your earlobe. 

“‘Course not,” you mumbled, but it didn’t sound convincing. 

It actually wasn’t the red velvet. 

It wasn’t even how sweet he had been with the kids, which was pretty darn sweet. 

“What was it?” Javy asked, as he kissed down your neck. 

You shivered as his tongue and teeth teased you. When he reached the collar of your sweater, he nosed it aside, and sucked lightly at the space where your neck met your shoulder.

“The glasses,” you blurted. 

You felt him hesitate, and he pulled back, looking at you amusedly. 

“The glasses?” he echoed, and you tried not to squirm. 

“Well, and the beard,” you admitted. “Not the actual aesthetics, just, like, the idea of them…the idea of older you. Silver fox Javy, you know, graying and—”

With a whoosh, the overhead lighting in the recreation center shut off. 

You turned to look out the window, surprised to find that no one else was left in the recreation center. They had cleared out quickly and the large room was suddenly dark, except for the lights strung around the “roof” of Santa’s Workshop. 

When you looked back at Javy, his teeth gleamed as he smiled.

His hand trailed down his arm till it tangled with yours, and he pulled you deeper into the workshop. 

“Javy, we should go–” you started to protest, but you broke off when he sat on the throne. 

The twinkling lights cast a golden glow into the otherwise dark room, and even in the shadows, Javy looked so damn sexy. He shifted in the seat, his thighs spreading, and planted his boots on the ground. He still held your hand, and you really did feel like you were standing in front of a throne, a queen to his king.

“It’s just us, honey,” he said, his voice deep, and you were having a hard time coming up with a response. Not when he looked this good, not when he was looking at you like that, not when you could already see the outline of his hardening dick against the inside of his velvet suit. 

God, what a thought–velvet and Javy. 

Your mouth practically watered, and when Javy tugged lightly on your hand, you let him pull you. You stood between his spread legs, the throne tall enough that you barely had to bend down to kiss him. This kiss was impossibly slow, leisurely. 

Javy’s hands trailed down your body, settling under your ass as he pulled you closer to him. You whimpered as his touch pulled you flush against him, his body hard against you, and his fingers gripping the flesh of your ass. Your own hands ran over his chest, around the back of his neck, anchoring you to him.

His big hands kneaded your ass, and you whimpered against his mouth when he guided you slightly sideways, against where his dick rested on his thigh.  

You felt your kisses turn lazy as he overwhelmed you. 

His big hands, his strong thighs, his hot cock, his broad chest…you felt your knees weaken as the kiss deepened. 

Javy knew, and he pulled back, giving you space. His hand found yours again, and he led you from between his legs, before reaching under your skirt. 

His touch was slow, certain, as his fingers trailed up your thighs to your waistband, where he found the edge of your tights, and slid them down your legs. He went slowly, and you were grateful for it; your head was spinning and you didn’t feel like you could catch your breath. You watched as he pulled the tights down your thighs, prompting you to step out of your shoes first. 

“Here, honey,” he prompted, guiding you to balance on the thick toes of his boots, so you wouldn’t have to stand on the floor, before he peeled your tights off. 

That thoughtfulness, combined with the determined carefulness with which he undressed you, sent another wave of arousal for you, and you followed his instruction without thinking. 

His hands were back on your legs then, reaching under your skirt again, up and up, and you shivered when his hands ghosted over the front of your underwear. 

“Were you telling the truth?” he murmured, his voice low, and you pressed your lips together to trap a whine inside your throat. “Am I gonna find you worked up under here?” 

You weren’t sure until his fingers pressed between your thighs. 

And then you moaned, you couldn’t help it. Javy’s fingers pressed into your center over your panties, his touch collecting your arousal and you felt the drag of wetness between his finger, the thin fabric, and your skin. 

Javy hummed his approval, and his pleasure had you bowing into him. 

“Javy,” you whispered, not sure what you were asking for, but certain he would know. 

“C’mere, baby,” he said softly, pulling you into his lap, his hands not leaving your panties, but still keeping you covered by your skirt. He guided you over his thighs, your legs spreading to rest in his lap, and you immediately were obsessed with the feeling of velvet stretched over his strong thighs. 

You looked up at his expression, and you felt your heart flutter. 

Christ, he was so beautiful. 

His expression was one of intense focus, but the panes of his face were so gorgeous, all the more for the fondness between the both of you. 

You pressed yourself up to kiss him, knowing you’d stumble over finding the words to tell him. Javy’s lips were so soft, his mouth so gentle, and the hand that wasn’t under your skirt cupped the back of your neck. The tenderness in his touch coupled with the strength in his hands was a heady combination, and you melted into his arms again. 

After a couple long, sweet kisses, you felt his hands move against you. 

You broke away from his kiss, breath catching as Javy dragged a thick finger over your now soaking panties. 

“You’re so warm here,” Javy murmured, his voice almost reverent, and your hands splayed over the red coat, grasping whatever you could. The pressure of his hand and the deep timbre of his voice were enough to drive you mad, and he knew it. 

“You feel so good, honey, so inviting…” Javy continued, and he pushed your panties aside. 

You whimpered at the first brush of his fingers against your core, slickened by your arousal, and warm against your skin. Your fingers scrambled to undo the red coat, fumbling with the buttons until you had the jacket undone, and you could feel the familiar cotton of his white undershirt. 

It wasn’t enough, you needed his skin. 

“Off,” you mumbled, and Javy chuckled as you pulled weekly at the bottom of his undershirt. It took some maneuvering, but you got the jacket off, then the undershirt, and then decided the beard and hat – while they had their charm – needed to go as well. 

And then you were breathless for a whole other reason. 

“You look like a damn fireman calendar,” you told him, your voice somewhere between amused and chagrined at the perfection that was a shirtless Javy Machado in red velvet pants and thick black boots, reclining in a garish throne. You decided that indulging the fantasy couldn’t hurt, and you guided the suit jacket up over his shoulders again. You tipped your head to the side, regarding your amused boyfriend.  

“Some mom in New Jersey would lose her shit,” you told him honestly, and it probably should’ve made you jealous, but it made you just so damn thankful he was all yours. 

You watched Javy’s abs contract as he laughed, pulling you back to him, and you smiled as he kissed you. You loved that it was like this with him – playful and fun, as well as just so fucking hot. 

It only took a moment for the laughter to fade from your kiss, and Javy’s hand was back inside your panties a moment later. 

He pulled a finger through your folds and your head fell back at his tease. He gathered your arousal with his finger, pulling his hand back up to the top of your slit. He found your clit easily, a familiar path, and when he pressed firmly, your legs jolted. 

“You’re Coyote’s girl, aren’t you?” he said thickly, and you wondered if he was thinking back to what RJ had said, or if he just liked the thought of you being his. Either way, you nodded weakly, overwhelmed by the pattern he traced over your clit. 

Javy turned his head so he could kiss your neck again, his lips pressing into you, tongue teasing you in a motion that mirrored his fingers at your core. You leaned into him, loving his strength and his focus on you. His hand, his mouth, his broad chest, all had your head swimming, and building up a heat within you. 

Your hips were moving, rocking into him, and you felt empty, needy. 

“Answer the question, honey,” he murmured into your neck, and he pulled back his hand to readjust. 

“Yes, Javy,” you breathed, forming the words feeling like a gargantuan effort, “yours.”

“Damn right,” he said, and then a finger was pushing through your folds as his thumb traced over your clit. 

You moaned as he pushed into you, a steady intrusion and just what you wanted. You rocked your hips into his touch, seeking more, deeper, and Javy chuckled. 

“Easy, baby,” he said softly, and you shook your head. 

“Need you, Javy,” you protested. His finger was thick, brushing into you, but you knew it wasn’t enough, knew it wasn’t what you needed. He grunted, shifting again, and then another finger was between your legs. Javy’s hand on your hip angled your hips downward, and your mouth fell open when he lifted his palm so you could grind your clit against it. 

His fingers inside you were pressing deep, stretching you, and you welcomed the width of them as you ground into his palm. 

“Baby, fuck,” you panted, and you felt his hips jerk up into you. 

Which had the opposite effect than what he had intended. 

Because his fingers were good, and his hand was good, and everything felt so fucking good– but you knew what was between his legs. And his hand wasn’t enough. 

“You need to be fucked, don’t you, honey,” Javy asked hotly, his voice low in your ear. You nodded desperately, your hips working against his fingers eagerly. He’d fill you so good, fuck you so full, and you needed it, needed him. 

You were overheating in your sweater, nearly wild with wanting him so bad, but you were taking everything he’d give you, always would. 

“Please, baby,” you whispered, and it sounded like a whine. You felt his hips press up again, an unintentional response, and your hips worked faster. 

“‘s too fast, sweetheart,” Javy said, but it sounded like maybe he was trying to convince himself too. “You’re not ready…”

You moaned, your head dropping to his shoulder. 

You knew he was right, knew you had to be worked up to taking his cock, but you wanted to be full of him, wanted to feel like his, wanted him to push everything else out of your mind with his dick. 

“Please,” you whimpered, unafraid to beg, and you felt Javy’s breath catch. 

“Cum for me first, honey, come on,” he said determinedly, and you would’ve scowled at him for his stubbornness, but he was working your body so fucking well. 

His fingers were pressing deeper inside of you, searching for the spot that would tip you over the edge. He knew when he found it because your whole body seized, and he fucking cooed, pleased and proud. His fingers worked faster inside of you, his palm grinding back into your clit, and you felt your body hurtling towards completion in spite of yourself. 

You whimpered his name, and Javy soothed you, his other hand falling to your ass again. He pressed you into him, shushing you as you trembled, and it was too much, too fast. 

Your orgasm broke through you, heat crashing over you as your boyfriend rocked you in his lap. You were shaking, you were pretty sure you were babbling, as Javy worked you through your orgasm, his strong fingers pulling steadily inside of you. 

You shuddered as you came down, the world fading from technicolor to the dark light of the rec center, and the ringing in your ears quieted enough to hear Javy murmuring praise into your ear. 

“So beautiful, honey, always so beautiful when you come. Fuck, you did so good, coming on my hand like that, such a good girl for me, always so good…”

You were pressed into his chest, and you snuggled closer to his warmth, temporarily sated. You felt Javy shift his hand, pull your panties back down before sliding his hand out from under your skirt. A moment later, you felt his chest vibrate, and when you pulled back to look, his eyes were closed, head tilted back, his fingers between his lips.  

“So fucking sweet,” he said, almost to himself, licking your orgasm off his fingers. You felt your core clench at the sight of it, at the everything of him, and you tilted your head up to him, needing his kiss. 

Javy acquiesced, and you both moaned when his tongue swept into your mouth, sharing the taste of your release. It was so hot, everything he did was so hot, and impossibly, you needed him again. 

You reached down between you, your fingers skating over velvet until you found his cock. He was fully erect now, trapped against his thigh, and when your fingers coasted over him, Javy’s breath caught. 

You hummed when his hips pressed up into your touch. 

Even without your body moving to encourage him, his thighs pushed his dick towards your hand, and you loved the feeling of him. Even through the soft material, he was so hard, so thick, and you were desperate for him. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Javy panted, and you loved it when he sounded like that, like he was barely clinging to sanity. 

“Don’t want to wait,” you trailed your hand up to his tip. You couldn’t feel the details of him through the suit, but you knew his cock, you knew where he was sensitive, and Javy groaned as you traced over him. He mumbled something into your sweater, but you couldn’t hear it. 

“Please, Javy,” you whispered, and he groaned again. 

His hands were on your waist, and they tightened when he pulled back. You were surprised by the truly forlorn look on his face when he looked up at you, and your hand paused, suddenly concerned. 

“I don’t have a condom,” Javy said dejectedly. “I’m sorry, honey, it felt pervy to put it in a pocket around all the kids and I–”

“We don’t need one.”

You didn’t mean to say it, but as soon as the words were out, you knew you meant them. You’d been exclusive for a couple months now, and you were tested regularly, and you trusted him. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted it– the more you needed it, the more you knew it was exactly what you needed.

Javy was so still underneath you. 

He was looking at you so closely, hope and caution warring in his expression. 

“Are you absolutely certain, honey?” he asked, and the way he was double checking was all the confirmation you needed. 

You leaned down to rest your forehead against his, loving the way his eyes followed you, even this close. You lowered your head to his, pulling back slightly when he reached up to kiss you. 

“100%,” you said against his lips, and Javy moaned, something deep in his chest, the hottest sound you’d heard. 

He surged up to kiss you, and you felt dizzy from the lingering taste of you on his tongue. When he pulled back, you were both breathless, just shy of giddy.   

“You want me to fuck you bare, sweetheart?” he asked, and his soft question made you shiver. 

“Please,” you managed, and Javy huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. 

“You’re gonna let me into that pussy raw?” he breathed, and you squirmed in his lap. You wanted him so badly, needed to feel him, just him. “Gonna let me fill you up, feel this cock press all the way into you?”

“Javy,” you moaned his name, fully wanton, unable to say anything else. 

Your hips were already rocking into him, craving the stretch of him. 

He seemed to understand, guiding you back to stand on his boots, while he shifted, sliding the suit pants down his thighs, along with his underwear. The red velvet pooled over his boots, brushing the tops of your feet, but you barely noticed. Instead, your eyes were trained between his thighs, where his dick was resting against his stomach. 

He had such a pretty cock. 

Long and heavy, curved slightly to the side, a plump head that felt absolutely unreal when it breached you. You were practically salivating for it, and you pressed your thighs together as you balanced on his boots. 

“Now you,” he prompted, and he helped you out of your sweater and skirt. A moment later, you felt Javy pull your panties off, now with no worry for the suit. 

He dropped the thin fabric to the ground and you stepped out of it, his fingers curled up to cup you. God, you loved how he touched you, so certain and steady, like him. You clutched his shoulder for balance, and Javy’s hand tightened over your pussy, pulling him to you by your pussy. 

You might as well have been on a leash. 

You could feel your legs trembling, you wanted him so bad. He guided you back onto his lap, your legs spread over his thighs again, but it was different now, because you could feel him. When you settled, your core brushed against his hot cock, and you both hissed out a breath. Desperation seemed to build between you, and Javy finally, finally let go of you, reaching down to hold his cock steady as you lowered yourself towards him. 

“Give me that pussy, baby,” he commanded, his voice low, and you wanted nothing more. 

When you felt the first press of his fat cockhead between your legs you felt like weeping. It was the smallest brush, but he was so thick, so broad, a promise. You held your breath as you lowered yourself down, a high-pitched moan working out of you when the head of him was fully inside you.  

“Ah, honey,” Javy breathed. 

It sounded like he was praying, and you understood, because it was just the tip of him, but already you were dizzy with how full you felt. 

You looked between the two of you, at the vision of his fat cock pressing into you and you moaned again. You looked so good together; it was amazing that he fit, that you could take him. You could feel his eyes on you, knew he was watching your face as you were watching where you were joined. 

“It’s so good, Javy,” you whispered, your fingers tightening on his shoulders. Your nails were probably leaving marks, not that either of you cared. 

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Javy said, his voice hoarse, “it’s so fucking good. How does my dick feel inside you, just me, so close to you?”

Your eyes closed and your jaw fell slack as pushed yourself farther onto him. The stretch neared on painful but nowhere near painful enough to make you stop. You felt him, like he said, you felt so close to him. It felt perfect, like you were made for this stretch.

“Halfway, baby,” Javy encouraged, and you practically choked at his words. 

Fuck, you thought you were farther along than that; it felt like you’d gotten farther along than that. 

But when you opened your eyes, there were still inches left of his cock, thick, searing length that you needed to fit inside of you. Javy’s hands rubbed encouraging circles on your back, and you realized your thighs were shaking. It felt like you were boiling, melting, but you knew you couldn’t stop, knew you needed to take all of him. 

Still, you couldn’t stop your whimper, “It’s too big, baby.”

Javy’s hips jerked up at your words, and his head fell back against the throne as he forced himself down, to be still. You both groaned at the ground that gave you, and Javy’s chest rose and fell rapidly. 

“You can do it, honey, you’re doing so good for me, so damn good,” he gritted, and you loved him so much. 

Loved that he was fighting for control but he still found breath to encourage you, soothe you, care for you. Your face felt wet, from sweat or tears, you couldn’t tell, but you made it the final few inches. 

When your shaking thighs met Javy’s legs, you both let out a trembling breath, and Javy wrapped his arms around you tightly. 

“Just stay here for a moment, sweetheart,” he whispered, and you lay your head on his shoulder, resting. 

You were so full. 

So sated, so absolutely content, like all you ever wanted to be was in this moment. You wanted to wrap this feeling up, remember it forever, this closeness. This perfection. 

Javy’s hands were still moving slowly up your back, his fingers pressing gently over you. You recognized he was breathing deeply, whether to help you monitor yours or because he needed to be controlled, you weren’t sure. 

You felt out of your body. 

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, but it was long enough for the stretch to ease and your body to adjust. As you accepted him, as you welcomed him, your head cleared slightly, and you became aware of the gnawing need at your core. 

You needed him to move. 

You shifted in his lap, just slightly, and Javy’s breath punched out of him, as you clenched around him. 

“Jesus, honey, warn a man,” he choked, and you smiled. 

“Can’t help it,” you said, honestly, “just feels too good.”

“You’re telling me,” he murmured, turning towards you. 

He kissed you slowly, languidly, his tongue pressing between your lips as he gently pushed his hips upward. You felt your limbs go lax; he wasn’t even pumping but he was so damn deep inside you. It felt like a caress, something gentle and sacred, and you rested on him. 

He pressed up again, and he broke the kiss, his warm breath coasting over your lips. 

“Feels fucking unreal, honey,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re so tight, so wet. God, I can feel every inch of you like this, feels like heaven.”

You hummed your agreement, turning your head to kiss along his jaw. Your lips brushed over his jawline, your tongue tasting his sweat, kissing him lightly as he rocked slowly into you again. Time felt like molasses, seeping so slowly by, and everything was distilled to the press of his hips into yours, of his cock straining inside of you. 

You whispered his name, and his hands slipped from your back to your waist. 

“Need something, honey?” Javy asked, and you whined in response. 

He was slow and steady, unhurried, stoking that heat inside of you. It was perfect, it was killing you, you needed more.

“Do you think,” Javy’s voice was still breathless, but took on a teasing lilt, “you were naughty or nice this year?”

You swatted at him weakly, his chest already huffing as he laughed. 

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled, turning to a moan at another gentle rock.

“You know I’d know if you’d been bad or good,” he said, amusing himself even as you squirmed on his cock. “I’ve got a list.”

“I swear, Javy–” 

“Do you think you’ve been a good girl for Santa?”

God, he was such a dork, but he was also so hung, and you couldn’t handle both at once. But then Javy’s hands wrapped under your ass again. Before you could sigh in relief, he lifted you up, strong arms fully pulling you off his dick, and then thrusted up into you. 

You screamed. 

You couldn’t help it, you felt it so much, so deep, so fucking full of him, and Javy’s proud laugh turned to a groan as you clenched around his cock. He’d scrambled your brain with his dick, that was the only explanation, because you were moaning and you felt every limb shaking, and you needed him to do it again. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted someone to hear us,” he chastised you gently, and you whimpered at his words. 

You both knew no one was left in the rec center, probably not even the parking lot, but fuck if the idea of someone walking in on you fucking your boyfriend on this throne of his didn’t turn you on even more.  

Javy sighed, something awed. “Is that it, honey? You want someone to see you? Want someone to walk in on you milking this bare cock? Want someone to watch me shove it so deep into your pussy, see how badly you need it?”

He lifted you again before you could respond, his strong arms pulling you up and then bringing you back down into his lap, his cock thrusting deep into you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only want more, need more. You felt something drip out of your mouth, realized belatedly you were literally drooling. 

Javy swore when he felt it, too, and his hips moved faster. He held you steady as he pushed up into you, slamming his hips up to meet yours. 

It was fast, it was rough, it was so, so deep, and you could only think that you needed him to keep going. 

Javy was grunting with each thrust of his hips, a gorgeous sound that had your mind racing. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass as he drove into you, so deep, and you scrambled for purchase, your hands clinging to the back of the throne, anything for leverage as he pumped into you. 

“I wouldn’t care,” Javy said, almost growled, and you felt your core clench tighter on him at that tone in his voice. “Fucking Simpson could break in now, honey, and I wouldn’t care, I couldn’t stop. You think anything could stop me now that I’ve felt this bare cunt around my cock? Nah, it’s too good, it’s so damn good. Fuck, honey, you feel—”

He broke off, and you felt his teeth bite into your shoulder, grounding himself as he drove into you. Vaguely you knew you were close, knew it in an abstract scientific way, because you could barely string two thoughts together, much less words. 

You could only cling to him, to your sweet, strong, Javy.  

“Riding me so good, baby,” Javy mumbled into your shoulder. “Being so good for me, honey, you’re always so good for me. My best girl, my beautiful, best girl. Sweetheart, I’m close, are you close?”

You nodded, or maybe you wailed, but you knew he could hear you, because his thrusts got more frantic. His thrusts were getting shorter, and you realized it was because he couldn’t reach as deep as he wanted, as fast as he wanted. Javy made a noise of frustration and his thighs flexed, then he was lifting you. 

Still impaled on his cock, he shifted you, turned you, and then your back was pressed against the cool surface of the throne. Javy was between your legs, then, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him back into you. 

“Please, baby,” you whimpered, and Javy groaned in response. 

“Anything, fuck, you know that, sweetheart, anything,” he whispered, and then he grabbed the throne. 

All you could do was take it. 

Lie in the space between his arms, between his legs, clinging to him as Javy gripped the throne for leverage and thrust into you. You were held firm as he thrust into you, the new angle causing his dick to brush against a spot inside you that had your toes curling. 

“Right there, Javy,” you cried, and you felt him press deeper, determined. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he panted, as his hips slammed into you. “God, you feel so good, I’ve got you… I know you feel good too, come for me, please..feels like fucking home in you, please honey, I need to feel you come–”

The throne was shaking with each of his thrusts and he pulled you even closer to him. Your body shook with each rutt of his hips, but as you molded to him, your clit brushed against the hard wall of muscle that was Javy. His cock hit that spot deep inside of you, your clit rubbed against his skin, and it was overwhelming, it was everything, it was enough. 

“Come with me,” you gasped, begged, feeling a blinding heat at the tips of your toes. Javy groaned, and you knew he wanted to protest, but as your body seized, you felt him tense with you.   

You cried out as you came, exhausted and overwriting and flying, but you felt it, felt him. Javy surged up to kiss you, his mouth locking on yours. You were too tired to kiss, too poised to respond, but so was he. And as you tipped over the edge, as you cried against his lips, Javy’s strong hips stilled, and you felt his chest heave as he pumped into you. Then you were warm, so warm, feeling his cum spill inside of you, feeling the world burn around you. It was everything, you and him, locked together and spiraling, shaking. 

You were so full. 

Javy collapsed against you, somehow finding the strength to push himself onto the throne beside you. You fidgeted, squirming until you were once again in his lap, panting and shaking, as Javy held you tight while your orgasms rolled over you. 

You were grateful for the Christmas lights. 

They were a gentle light, soft when you opened your eyes, illuminating Javy’s profile like a poem. Sweat slicked between both of your bodies, and you didn’t want to think about the state the suit was in. You could feel Javy’s heartbeat through his chest, a pounding rhythm, strong and steady as he was. 

You should get up. 

But you snuggled deeper into his chest, relieved by the deep breath you felt him draw. You both basked in the muted light, the warmth of each other's arms, and you decided the feeling was also the answer to Javy’s question– you’d been nice.

.............

Tagging some mutuals, some folks who asked for it, and general lovers of Javy: @daggerspare-standingby @blowmymbackout @teacupsandtopgun @mandylove1000 @callsign-fangirl @cheekymcgrath @goldenseresinretriever @mxgyver @laracrofted @coyotesamachado @wildbornsiren @bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @roosterforme

#javy machado #javy machado fic #javy machado smut #javy coyote machado #javy coyote machado smut #coyote x reader #javy machado x reader #i've got to stop posting at 11pm and expecting people to see it #sorry in advance for all the reblogs i will be giving this #misskielwrites

[bradshawsbaby]

A Whole New World

Pairing(s): Rooster x Wife!Reader, with bits of Maverick x Penny and implied Hangman x Phoenix

Author’s Note: I was inspired to write this one after receiving an Anon message asking if I would ever write a more in-depth story about any of the Bradshaw children’s births. I decided to go with the story of Goose’s birth, since he’s their firstborn child. And that way I was also able to include a scene of Mav getting to meet Baby Nick for the first time!

Warnings: Detailed descriptions of labor and childbirth, some slight angst related to a challenging labor, drug-free birth (as an ode to my crazy mother, who gave birth to me and my siblings with no pain medication whatsoever), lots and lots and lots of Bradshaw fluff.

“Bradley.”

Despite the fact that it was nearly four o’ clock in the morning, you suddenly bolted upright in bed as you pushed the covers back and reached to flick on the lamp on your bedside table.

“Bradley, wake up!” you called out to your husband again, reaching over and prodding his bare shoulder with one hand. His skin was warm to the touch and you could tell from the light that was now slanting across his features that he was in a deep sleep. “Bradley!”

Startled out of his slumber, Bradley blinked a few times as he lifted his head off his pillow, gazing around the room as if trying to place where he was. As soon as the pieces clicked in his groggy brain, however, his eyes immediately opened wide and he sat up straight in bed.

“What is it, baby? Are you okay?” he asked in concern, his voice still thick with sleep as he rested a strong hand on your lower back, which had been aching these past couple weeks as you got closer and closer to your due date.

“Bradley,” you said for the fourth time, your eyes widening slightly and your voice catching as the reality of what you needed to tell him settled around you. “Honey, my water broke.”

As if to prove your point, you turned your attention downwards, where a quick removal of the covers had revealed a large wet spot on your bedsheets. You had thrown on one of Bradley’s old T-shirts to sleep in, so it was also more than apparent that your inner thighs were slick with what could only be amniotic fluid.

“Y-your—your water—oh. Oh. Okay, honey, okay,” he stammered, some of the ruddiness disappearing from his cheeks as he stared down at your glistening legs and the large stain on your dark sheets. “Okay,” he said again, suddenly compelled to jump out of bed as if your apartment had just caught on fire. He turned back to you immediately, cupping your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Okay, baby, don’t panic. Don’t worry. We’ve got this,” he told you, nearly tripping over himself in his effort to turn all the lights on in your bedroom.

Despite the rush of nerves that had come crashing over you the minute that you realized you were going into labor, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you watched your husband hurry back and forth across the room, tugging a pair of jeans on and searching for a shirt—any shirt—as he mumbled to himself about the route he needed to take to get to the hospital.

Bradley was prepared. He’d been prepared for weeks. The two of you already had your hospital bag prepped and sitting by the front door, ready to be snatched up at a moment’s notice. Bradley had even taken the time to figure out the fastest route from your apartment to the hospital, and had done several test runs over the past couple weeks. He was prepared. He was ready. But now that the moment was finally here, you could tell that for all his preparation, your husband was terrified.

But at least that made two of you.

Bradley had run out of your bedroom to snatch up the hospital bag and his car keys, shoving his wallet into his back pocket when he returned a few moments later. His eyes kept darting all around the room, as if he was running through a mental list in his head.

“Okay, baby, are you ready?” he asked, his gaze finally settling back on you.

“Um…” You glanced down at where you were still sitting in bed, having been too distracted by your husband’s frenzied movements to even consider climbing out of bed yourself.

“Oh God, baby, I’m an idiot. What am I doing?” Bradley chastised himself, shaking his head as he hurried over to your side of the bed. He slipped one arm around your waist and took your hand in his as he slowly eased you out of the bed, not letting go even once you were standing steadily on your own two feet. “Are you okay? How do you feel?” he asked, cupping your cheek with one hand and caressing your skin with the pad of his thumb.

“I feel—oh,” you suddenly gasped out, clutching at your swollen stomach. “Oh, Bradley. Bradley,” you moaned, gripping his arm roughly as your forehead furrowed in pain.

“What is it, baby?” Bradley demanded, his brown eyes lit with concern and worry as he gently eased you back down onto the edge of the bed.

“A contraction,” you said through gritted teeth, rubbing your hand over your belly as if that could ease the discomfort of the intense cramping that had suddenly seized you. Thankfully, the sensation started to pass after a few seconds, giving you an opportunity to catch your breath. “Okay, I think it passed. For now, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” your husband asked, resting his hand on your stomach and rubbing your bump tenderly.

“Mhm,” you nodded, stroking his arm affectionately. “But we really should get going. Can you help me put something on?”

“Of course,” Bradley replied, dropping another kiss on the top of your head.

Within a few minutes, Bradley had helped you into a loose-fitting pair of yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt, which were the only things you really felt comfortable in at this point in your pregnancy. Hefting your hospital bag in one hand and wrapping a protective arm around your waist, he led you out of your apartment and down to where the Bronco was parked and waiting.

Just as Bradley was helping you climb into the passenger seat, another contraction seized you, forcing you to suck in a surprised breath and squeeze his hand tightly.

“Okay, baby, just breathe,” Bradley encouraged soothingly, trying to do the same to help you through it.

This contraction seemed to last a little longer, but then passed in the same way the first one had.

“Alright, Baby B, I hear you,” you murmured softly, rubbing your belly with both hands after Bradley buckled you in. Taking a deep breath, you let your head fall back as your eyes closed. “You’re ready to make your big entrance. Just maybe give your mama a little warning next time, hm?” you teased, smiling as Bradley slid in behind the wheel.

“You hear that, Baby B?” Bradley asked, resting a hand on your stomach as he started up the Bronco. “Your mama is an angel, so you better not make this too hard on her,” he grinned.

You smiled back, your eyes crinkling as you gazed over at your husband—the father of your child and the absolute love of your life. As nervous as you were for all that was to come, you knew you could handle anything with this man by your side.

Before Bradley could put the car in drive, you reached over and rested a hand on his arm, stilling his movements. He turned to look at you, that look of absolute adoration that still took your breath away glowing in his eyes.

“This is it, baby,” you whispered, knowing this was the moment you had been waiting so long for.

You had always wanted to be a mother, and once you met Bradley, you knew there was no one else in the world you wanted to have a family with. This pregnancy hadn’t always been a walk in the park. It had been downright bumpy at times, especially in the beginning with your morning sickness and the worst of your perinatal anxiety. But Bradley had been by your side through it all, your champion and your biggest supporter every step of the way. You couldn’t wait to see him finally hold your child in his arms.

“This is it,” Bradley nodded, his eyes twinkling as he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “In case I don’t say it enough times today, I absolutely adore you, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he added with a crooked smile.

“That’s good,” you chuckled as he began to pull out and head in the direction of the hospital. “Because I absolutely adore you, too.”

Once you arrived at the hospital, everything felt like a blur. You’d had a couple more contractions on the ride over—they were measuring about ten minutes apart—and your hair and forehead were already damp with sweat by the time Bradley was getting you checked in.

You were thankful that as of right now, you were the only patient in your hospital room, which made you feel less self-conscious about the low groans of pain you were letting out every few minutes. Your obstetrician, Dr. Russo had arrived at the hospital a half hour earlier, and she and the nurses were regularly checking your vitals and carefully monitoring the progression of your labor.

“You’re two centimeters dilated right now,” Dr. Russo had told you when she’d been in the room five minutes ago. “So we still have a bit of a way to go. But don’t let yourself get stressed. You’re in active labor now, so things can pick up right away at any time,” she’d assured you.

“If this is only two centimeters, the next eight should be a bucket of laughs,” you joked in a breathy voice, gritting your teeth as another contraction coursed through your body, putting a great deal of pressure on your lower back and pelvis, and causing your thighs to tremble.

“I know,” Bradley murmured sympathetically, standing beside your hospital bed and tenderly brushing your hair back with gentle fingers. “But you got this, baby. If anyone can do this, it’s you,” he said warmly, leaning forward and brushing his lips against your sweaty forehead.

“I sure hope so,” you smiled tiredly, slipping your hand into his and lacing your fingers together. You’d already been in the hospital for close to two hours and were feeling more tired than you had expected. Then again, your child had decided that four in the morning was the perfect time to kickstart the labor process.

“I’m going to be right here the whole time, honey. Right by your side,” Bradley assured you, squeezing your hand with affection. “Why don’t you try to get some rest while you can?” he suggested.

“Mhm, before another one of those contractions comes for me,” you laughed softly, letting your eyes drift closed. “Did you call Mav?” you asked, knowing Bradley had stepped out of the room momentarily while Dr. Russo and the nurses were checking on you.

“Mhm,” Bradley nodded, softly stroking your hair as you tried to rest your eyes. “I told him that it would be a while, but he and Penny insisted on getting here as soon as possible. They’re going to text me when they’re in the waiting room,” he explained. “I texted the Dagger group chat, too. They wish you all the best and want you to know that they’re very excited. Coyote seems to be under the impression that we need to celebrate the first Dagger baby in style, so God only knows what they have planned,” he added with a laugh.

“Oh my gosh,” you giggled, your laughter slowly melting into whimpers of pain as another contraction snagged you in its web, your back arching off the bed in a useless attempt to escape the intensifying discomfort.

“Oh, baby girl, I wish I could take the pain for you,” Bradley frowned, hating that there was nothing he could do to alleviate the growing agony you were in. “What do you need? What can I do?”

“My back really hurts,” you admitted, letting out a soft moan as you tried to shift your position slightly. “Do you think you could rub it a little bit?”

“Anything you need,” Bradley said, nestling down beside you on the edge of your bed and gently kneading his thumbs into the valley of your lower back.

“Right there,” you nodded, letting out a sigh of relief as your husband’s ministrations slightly eased the ache in your back, even if only momentarily.

“You know that you’re really incredible, right?” Bradley whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck as he continued to massage your spine.

“We’ll see if you still feel the same way when I’m a sweating, screaming mess blaming you for all my agony and demanding that you never touch me ever again,” you teased him in response, a smile touching the corners of your lips even as your body throbbed with aches and pains.

“Oh, I’ll feel the same even if you’re the sweatiest, loudest, meanest woman in this whole hospital,” Bradley grinned, nuzzling your neck affectionately and peppering your jawline with featherlight kisses.

“I love you,” you laughed, resting your head back against his shoulder as he continued to press his thumbs into your lower back.

“I love you right back, honey,” he murmured, kissing your cheek.

Bradley’s promise ended up getting put to the test as the hours passed by and your labor continued to progress slowly. Your pain, however, did not.

“Dr. Russo, she has to be more dilated than that,” Bradley insisted as you lay whimpering in bed, tears pricking your eyes from the force of another painful contraction. “Can you check again?”

Dr. Russo looked up at you and your husband sympathetically. After almost eight hours of labor, you were still only six centimeters dilated. The pain had intensified greatly over the past eight hours, however, and each of your contractions, which were now coming about five minutes apart, was more painful than the last.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Russo said, looking like she really meant it. “There’s no mistaking it. You still have another four centimeters to go before we can even think about pushing. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but these things take more time than most people think, especially the first time. Things are still progressing normally and your vitals and the baby’s look good.”

Before you could respond, another contraction passed over you. Reaching out, you clutched onto Bradley’s arms, your fingernails digging into his skin as you squeezed your eyes shut and did your best to breathe through it.

“Okay, baby, okay. Squeeze as hard as you have to,” Bradley encouraged you, gently rubbing your thigh with his free hand.

It was your longest contraction yet and when it passed, you lay back panting and gasping for air.

Dr. Russo bit her lower lip, glancing from you to Bradley and back again. “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind about the epidural? There’s still time to administer it, but once the window closes, there’s no going back.”

You and Bradley had made the decision a couple months ago that you wanted to have a drug-free birth. Well, you had made the decision and Bradley had supported it.

“Whatever you want to do, baby. It’s up to you,” he had said.

Now, however, Bradley was gazing down at you with concern brimming in his dark eyes. “Baby, maybe we should think about—”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “I’m not changing my mind.”

Bradley leaned in closer to you, brushing a few damp strands of hair away from your temple. “Honey, the pain is only going to get worse from here and it kills me to see you like this. It’s okay to change your mind if you need to. I’ll support you no matter what you want to do,” he murmured gently.

“I don’t want the epidural,” you said firmly, looking from him to Dr. Russo. “I don’t want it. Thank you, but no.”

“I understand,” Dr. Russo nodded, checking the machines one more time and patting your arm softly. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Bradley asked with a smile of admiration once Dr. Russo had left the room. “But damn, am I proud of you.”

“You better be,” you told him, letting out a small huff of pain as you ran a clammy hand through your sweaty hair.

Bradley reached for one of the damp washcloths he’d been running under cool water in the bathroom sink, carefully pressing it to your forehead and mopping up the hot perspiration that had been beading on your skin.

“I am. You’re amazing, honey,” Bradley insisted, sliding the washcloth down your cheek and pressing it to your neck, wiping away the sweat and cooling your flushed skin. “Nothing I’ve done or will do can ever compare to what you’re doing right now, baby. You’re stronger than me in every sense of the word. Carrying our child. Bringing our baby into the world—that’s more important than any mission I’ve ever flown.”

You found yourself growing emotional at his words, tears welling up in your eyes and leaking down your cheeks.

“Aw, don’t cry, baby. Don’t cry,” Bradley soothed, thumbing your tears away and pressing soft kisses to your cheek and the tip of your nose.

“What if I can’t do this, Bradley?” you sniffled, some of the worries you’d been trying to suppress bubbling to the surface. “It’s been over eight hours and I’m barely even halfway there. What if I just can’t do this?”

“You can,” Bradley said firmly, dropping the washcloth so that he could cup your face with both hands. “Look at me, honey. You can do this. You’re going to do this. I believe in you so much, baby. And I’m going to be right here.”

You nodded your head slowly, squeezing your eyes shut as you rode through another painful contraction.

“I love you so much, my sweet girl,” Bradley whispered, stroking your cheek as he bent down to kiss you softly.

As you continued to dilate slowly over the next couple hours, Bradley did everything he could to alleviate your suffering. From massaging your back, to wiping your face, neck, and chest with wet washcloths, to running to get you as many ice chips as you needed, he was truly at your beck and call. 

Though you had teased him earlier about yelling at him and swearing off ever letting him touch you again, you knew nothing could be further from the truth. You adored this man and every single thing he did for you proved why. He was the most selfless, generous, loving person you had ever known. You knew you wouldn’t have made it this far if it wasn’t for him.

At this point, Bradley’s cell phone kept buzzing repeatedly with demands to know how you were doing and “what the hell was taking so long,” according to Hangman.

Ignore him please, Phoenix had texted.

Mav, Penny, and the whole Dagger Squad had long since congregated in the hospital waiting room, eagerly anticipating the arrival of the baby. They’d have a while longer yet to wait. At the tenth hour, you were still only eight centimeters dilated.

“I’m so tired, baby,” you murmured in exhaustion as Bradley gently ran a cold ice chip along your dry bottom lip. “How the hell am I supposed to actually push after all this?” you questioned worriedly.

“You’ll find a way,” Bradley reassured you, dropping the ice chip back into the cup and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Think of what Mav always tells me—don’t think, just do.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, resting your hands on top of your belly. You could feel your child moving around quite a lot in there. “I feel you, you know. Feel free to make your way out any time,” you groaned, drawing your knees up as an excruciatingly painful contraction tore through you.

It wasn’t until you’d been in the hospital for twelve hours that Dr. Russo finally looked up at you from the end of the bed with a smile. “Guess who’s finally at ten centimeters?” she grinned.

“Oh, thank God,” you and Bradley both sighed at the same time, Bradley squeezing your hand supportively.

“It’s finally time to push, my dear,” Dr. Russo said, calling one of the nurses over. “Bradley, she’s going to need you now more than ever. You’ve got her?”

“I’ve got her,” Bradley nodded, one of his hands resting on your lower back and his other hand sliding into yours as you sat up slightly and leaned forward. “You’ve got this, baby. You’ve got this,” he whispered against your ear, kissing your cheek gently.

“Okay,” Dr. Russo murmured encouragingly, positioned on her stool at the end of the bed. “Okay, ready? Start pushing for me now,” she instructed, keeping a careful eye on the monitor capturing the baby’s heart rate.

Taking a deep breath, you began bearing down as hard as you could, maintaining a death grip on your husband’s hand as you gritted your teeth and tried as hard as you could to repress the scream burning the back of your throat. After a few seconds, you let out a gasp and collapsed back against the pillows.

“Good, good,” Dr. Russo nodded. “Again.”

Back and forth you went for the next several minutes, pushing as hard as you possibly could and then falling back against your pillows, struggling to catch your breath as each push became more cumbersome. You could feel your baby moving into position, but he was apparently still too snug or too shy to enter into the world outside your womb.

“Again,” Dr. Russo called out. “I can see the top of the baby’s head now.”

You sat up and tried to push, but it wasn’t quite hard enough this time. Letting out a whimper, you turned your head and looked up at Bradley. “I can’t,” you sobbed, your entire body numb from pain and exhaustion. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, baby. You can. I’m right here,” Bradley told you, looking deeply into your eyes.  “Come on, baby. Another push. You can do it,” he said, his voice solid and encouraging in your ear.

As you bore down again, Bradley nodded. “There you go. That’s my girl,” he murmured as you let out a scream of agony.

“Almost there. A big push this time,” Dr. Russo instructed you, her hands waiting to catch the child she could see coming.

“You got this, baby girl. You can do this. You’re so strong,” Bradley whispered in your ear, holding you as close as he could. “Come on, honey. One more big push,” he said, squeezing your hand and supporting your back as you bore down once more.

You could feel something shift suddenly and it felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest as your child suddenly came howling into the world, crying lustily and squirming vigorously.

Falling back against your pillows, tears streaming down your cheeks, you watched in amazement as Dr. Russo lifted your baby into the air, the umbilical cord still connecting the two of you as it had been for the past nine months.

“It’s a boy!” Dr. Russo exclaimed with a wide smile as the nurse immediately stepped in to clamp the umbilical cord.

Your heart melted inside your chest when you saw the look of pride and awe on Bradley’s face, tears streaming down his cheeks just as they were streaming down yours.

“A boy, baby,” he murmured in hushed amazement, bending down to kiss you thoroughly. “We have a son,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

“Our son,” you cried happily, nodding your head as Dr. Russo and the nurse performed a quick physical assessment and cleaned your baby boy up, bundling him in a blanket before presenting him to you and placing him in your arms.

“He’s perfect,” Dr. Russo told you, smiling at you and Bradley. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Of course he is,” you cooed, your eyes glued to your son’s angelic face. “He’s ours.”

“We’ll give you a few minutes to get acquainted,” Dr. Russo laughed, ushering the young nurse out of the room to give your little family some privacy.

“He’s amazing,” Bradley breathed out, sitting beside you and tenderly stroking your son’s cheek with the tip of his finger.

Your heart felt like it might burst inside your chest as you gazed down at the little life that you and Bradley had created together. It didn’t seem possible that one heart could contain so much love. As your son blinked his eyes and looked up at you, his tiny hands reached up and wrapped around your finger and you immediately burst into tears.

“I love him so much,” you sobbed, lifting him in your arms and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I know,” Bradley nodded, swallowing past the lump of emotion in his throat. “So do I,” he said, gently cupping the back of your son’s head as you held him.

“Why don’t you hold him?” you suggested, tearing your eyes away from your child to look at your husband.

Bradley nodded slowly and you smiled as you carefully slid your newborn into his strong and capable arms, the arms that had held you and kept you safe for so long, and would now do the same for your baby boy.

“He’s so little,” Bradley said quietly, gazing down at him in wonder. He cradled his head carefully, holding onto him as if his life depended on it.

Grinning, you curled up against his side and rested your head on his shoulder so that you, too, could gaze down at your son, gently running a finger down his tiny nose and soft chin.

“You’re incredible,” Bradley told you, turning his head and dropping a kiss on your forehead. “Absolutely incredible. I told you you could do this. And I’m so proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you replied, kissing him softly. “I love you.”

“I love you so much,” Bradley whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Both of you,” he added, his eyes drawn back to the yawning baby in his arms.

“Oh, tired, are you?” you laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“You better never think of giving your mama as hard a time as you gave her today, young man,” Bradley grinned, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your son’s forehead.

Your son hiccupped at that, which made you both laugh.

A couple hours later, after you and the baby had gotten cleaned up and rested, you were feeling up for visitors.

Not a single one of your friends—the little family you and Bradley had surrounded yourself with—had left the waiting room. Bradley had gone out a while ago to let everyone know that you had a son and that you and the baby were doing well. They were all eager to see you both and insisted that they didn’t care how long they had to wait.

Since Dr. Russo had warned that you should take it easy, both for your sake and the baby’s, you and Bradley had decided to invite Mav and Penny in first.

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” Penny beamed, pressing a motherly kiss to your cheek. She stepped aside so that Mav could give you a kiss as well, taking the bouquet of flowers they’d bought for you out of his hands.

“Bradley tells us you did one hell of a job, kid,” Mav grinned, affectionately chucking you under the chin.

“Well, you know, he gave me some pretty good advice when it came time to push—don’t think, just do,” you laughed, your eyes twinkling with amusement as you looked up at him.

“See? That advice never fails,” Mav told Bradley, slapping him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bradley nodded, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “So do you want to meet the newest Bradshaw man or no?” he asked with a smile, walking over to the bassinet where your son was currently nestled.

“Hopefully he gets his looks from his mom,” Mav commented, throwing a playful wink over his shoulder.

“Oh, stop it,” Penny laughed, nudging him. “He’s very lucky to have two very good-looking parents,” she added pointedly.

“Alright, here’s our boy,” Bradley said proudly, carefully lifting the baby into his arms and walking him over to Mav and Penny.

“Oh, he’s gorgeous,” Penny cooed softly, reaching out to gently stroke his silky cheek.

Mav just smiled, his throat tightening as he gazed down at your son. Goose and Carole’s grandson. You and Bradley could both see the emotion he was trying to rein in.

“Do you want to hold him, Mav?” you asked in a gentle voice, you and your husband both smiling at him.

Mav nodded slowly, looking a little afraid to speak for fear of his voice cracking under the weight of the emotion brewing inside him. Penny rested a comforting hand on his back, rubbing slow circles along his shoulders.

Bradley slowly shifted the baby in his arms, transferring him carefully into Mav’s waiting arms.

Mav grinned down at your son, who blinked up at him calmly, his tiny mouth opening and closing as he reached out and wrapped a hand around one of Mav’s fingers. Your son had captured Mav’s heart from the moment he laid eyes on him.

“He looks like you, Bradley,” Mav chuckled, glancing up at your husband. He paused for a moment before adding, “He looks like your dad, too.”

Bradley smiled as he sat down on the bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “We named him Nicholas,” he said, the both of you noticing the way Mav’s throat tightened once again as he nodded his head slowly.

“Nicholas Peter Bradshaw,” you added, glancing over at Bradley as you revealed your son’s full name, the name you and Bradley had decided on months ago in the event that your child was a boy.

Mav’s eyes widened at that and his mouth hung open in shock as he lifted his head to look at the two of you, Nicholas still carefully ensconced in his arms.

Penny covered her mouth with both hands, a few tears spilling out and trickling down her cheeks.

“Nicholas Pe—” Mav couldn’t even finish your son’s name before he was a bawling mess, holding the baby close to his chest and pressing an affectionate kiss to his forehead as he rocked him in his arms. “You didn’t have to. You didn’t—”

“Of course we did,” Bradley said, rising and moving to stand beside his father’s best friend, his uncle, the man who had been like a second father to him all these years. “We named him after the two best men I’ve ever known.”

“We love you, Mav,” you added, tears trickling down your own cheeks as you watched the scene unfolding before you.

Penny gave Bradley a tight hug, then took Nicholas into her arms so that Bradley and Mav could embrace one another tightly. Luckily, your phone was resting on your bedside table, so you were able to snap a shot of the sweet moment.

“Can’t forget about you, kid,” Mav laughed, wiping the tears from his cheeks as he walked over to give you a big hug as well.

The four of you sat together for a while, chatting softly and admiring Mav’s sweet new namesake. All of your heads turned at the sudden sound of noise in the hallway right outside your hospital room. It sounded like Phoenix’s voice.

“Jake, you can’t just—”

Suddenly the door opened and in barged Hangman, followed closely by Phoenix and the rest of the Dagger Squad.

“We tried to stop him,” Bob murmured apologetically, sliding his glasses up his nose.

“We’ve been waiting long enough, Bradshaw. We want to see the baby,” Hangman said bluntly, hands on his hips.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Phoenix muttered, shaking her head and covering her face with her hand.

“We brought presents though,” Coyote exclaimed, holding up a massive teddy bear and a model airplane. Payback and Fanboy were bringing up the rear with about twenty balloons in hand.

“Oh my gosh,” you laughed, covering your face with your hands.

“They wanted to do a flyover, so you should count your lucky stars that this is all they brought,” Phoenix grinned, shaking her head once more.

“So where’s the man of the hour?” Hangman asked, gazing between you, Bradley, Penny, and Mav until his eyes alighted on the baby in Mav’s arms. “Ah, there he is. The newest Bradshaw. As I live and breathe,” he grinned, walking over and slapping Bradley on the arm in congratulations.

Soon your hospital room was filled with the entire Dagger Squad, as well as twenty massive congratulatory balloons and toys your son was as of yet too young to fully appreciate.

Mav placed your son back in your arms and you held him up proudly for everyone to see. “Nicholas, this is the Dagger Squad. Dagger Squad, this is Nicholas,” you smiled, laughing as your friends all echoed their greetings.

The introductions didn’t last long, unfortunately. As soon as Dr. Russo returned and found all the visitors in your room, she immediately set about shooing them out. “I can tell he’s quite the celebrity, but you can all visit him once he’s home tomorrow,” she said, putting an end to all forms of protest with one sharp look.

“We’ll see you soon,” Phoenix said, blowing you a kiss as she shoved Hangman and the rest of the boys out of the room.

“Bye, darling. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Penny murmured, giving you one more kiss as she walked towards the door.

“Congratulations, you two,” Mav grinned, resting his hand on Bradley’s shoulder proudly and reaching down to take one of your hands in his. “I know your parents would be so proud of you,” he added, looking at Bradley.

It was Bradley’s turn to just nod and smile, a lump of emotion wedged firmly in his throat.

“Come on, Pete. Let’s give them some privacy now,” Penny smiled, holding out a hand to him.

Shooting a wink your way, Mav slipped his hand inside Penny’s and let her pull him out of the room.

Quiet descended once more as you and Bradley were left alone with your son.

“Can you bring him to me?” you asked, reaching towards the bassinet.

Bradley immediately went to get Nicholas, lowering him into your eager arms and curling up beside you in your bed.

“Isn’t it crazy?” you murmured softly, taking your son’s tiny hand in yours and pressing a kiss to it. “How much you love him already?”

“I don’t think it’s crazy at all,” Bradley smiled, wrapping his arm around you. “I love his mama more than anything, and now I love him more than anything, too. Makes perfect sense to me.”

You laughed at that, resting your cheek against Bradley’s shoulder. “The whole world just feels better because he’s in it,” you said quietly, enjoying this moment of peace—this moment of just you and Bradley and Nicholas.

“You’re my world, baby,” Bradley murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead. “You and Nicholas. It’s you and me. Us. Forever.”

“Forever,” you echoed your agreement, gazing down at the little angel who had somehow turned your whole world upside down and then made it right again.

The world was a brighter place now that Nicholas Peter Bradshaw was in it.

#mr. & mrs. bradshaw #rooster x wife!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #mrs. bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller

[redfurrycat]

🤠🐕‍🦺☃️🐾🏍️🐱🐓Animal Companions Fic Recs🐓🏍️🐱🐾☃️🐕‍🦺🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: Aphroditedany, Bbr1, BeautifulCreature, Buckybraciole, Callsignyours, Demiclar, Emmedoesntdomath, Indybob, Kazanskysmitchell, Kerbyfullyloaded, LemonsAndSugarMakeLemonade, Lesbiseresin, LoveChildofInsertShowHere, SunMonTue, Teacupivy, ThisisYour_Captain_Speaking, ToukoJalorda003, Whimsicule.

Art Bonus - (coming soon)

> Mythological Creatures & Shapeshifters {🤠🐓} > Daily Heroes/Animal Care {🤠🐓}

his dark materials / dæmon AU by buckybraciole {T} {🤠🐓}

A series of one-shots about fighter pilots and their dæmons.

Golden Retriever Puppy by bbr1 {G} {🤠🐓}

“Have you ever had a dog?” Jake asks. “Nah, who am I kidding. Of course you haven’t. I’m going to get you a dog.”

Bad Idea! by LemonsAndSugarMakeLemonade {T} {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Bradley: Hey, are you and Ice around? Well, this is slightly odd Mav thought but he replied anyway. Yeah, why? Bradley: We have our baby! We’ll be there in 10. Mav almost dropped his phone at the reply. What the fuck. Bradley Bradshaw, you better call me this instant.

A cat named Crow by LoveChildofInsertShowHere {T}

The Meowfect Evening {☃️🏍️}

Sometimes a kitten can make an evening even better

Some Birds Can't Fly {☃️🏍️}

Crow becomes more of a part of the Mitchell-Kazansky family

How Crow Won Slider's Heart {☃️🏍️}

Sometimes a cat will settle an insane debate better than Ice can

The Bumps in Quiet Nights {☃️🏍️}

Ice worries when Maverick takes too long to come back home from picking up dinner

And A Partridge in a Pear Tree {☃️🏍️}

Mav and Ice obtain 3 new family members in the form of kittens

Is it a Racoon? {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Rooster meets the new additions to the Mitchell-Kazansky family and gets talked into getting a pet

Goosebumps {🤠🐓}

Jake and Bradley find the perfect cat for them, which brings up some emotions for Bradley

How to make a Flock {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Mav discovers a box full of kittens on the side of the road on his way to suprise Ice at work

Nick's worst weekend ever by Aphroditedany {T} {🤠🐓}

Nick Bradshaw, Bradley Bradshaw's cat, might unexpectedly bring him closer to a charming co-pilot. It doesn't mean Nick likes it, though.

Skies of Dust by kerbyfullyloaded {T} {☃️🏍️}

Walking into the sky

Pete Mitchell was fourteen when his daemon settled. It took him a few years to join her in the sky, wings on his chest and steel all around him.

Every atom of me and every atom of you

The turn of a dial, snapshots of a life, dust all around. Maverick, Iceman, and their daemons in the years between 1987 and 2019. "'On,' said the alethiometer. Farther, higher. So on they climbed." The Subtle Knife (or: a series of stories based on the different symbols of the alethiometer, a sequel to Walking into the Sky)

at my side by demiclar {M} {☃️🏍️}

"If there's one thing Maverick is good at, it's taking care of his own." Slider said, throwing his arm around his shoulders and tugging him close. "I'm just glad we can return the favor from time to time." Pete Mitchell came back from the Dagger mission with PTSD worse than he'd ever experienced before. His family is eager to help, but piecing themselves back together after a decade of separation is a challenge not easily overcome. Pete isn’t the best at accepting help, and the family’s problems go deeper than expected, but they won’t stop trying until they bring everyone home.

Goose the Dog and Mav the Human, the Fun Never Ends by ThisisYour_Captain_Speaking {G}

Man's Best Friend

Maverick is one of the most kind hearted people ever and the things he loves, he does so with everything he has. Why not let him have a dog? AKA What if Theo was originally Mav's dog?

Well Well Well, What Have We Here?

It's Fourth of July Weekend and Ice has invited friends and their families over to celebrate. However, before the day of the actual celebration, Mav takes his dog Goose out for a run. Will they be able to beat the storm brewing or will Mav land himself in trouble yet again?

Wrench the Golden Retriever by emmedoesntdomath {T} {☃️🏍️}

“Mav, please tell me you didn’t get us a dog.” Silence. He sighed. The contractually obligated hey-I-bought-a-dog-without-asking-and-then-gave-it-a-name-you’ll-hate-but-you-should-still-love-me fic

call it what you want by lesbiseresin {M} {🤠🐓}

“Shit, Mav,” Bradley says through a laugh as he squats down, leaving his beer on the railing so he has both hands free to stick out. “You finally get me that dog I was always asking for?” It’s another joke. He knows that Theo belongs to Penny and Amelia, but there has to be a reason Maverick is bringing this up. “You caught me,” Maverick deadpans. Bradley can see Penny elbow him out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t bother looking up, too engrossed in the happy pants Theo is letting out as Bradley switches to scratching under his chin. “You could say I did. Sort of.” “Sort of, huh?” (alternatively: jake & bradley getting their shit together ft. theo the dog)

Dust is Everlasting (And Love Even Moreso) by ToukoJalorda003 {M} {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

If Time Rewound to Dust (Love Would Endure Anyway)

All Rooster had ever wanted was to work for Jurassic World - his godfather did, and for his whole life, it had been his dream. Now he finally had it, and he…wasn’t so sure how he felt about Hangman. The man was just too dangerous, too unpredictable, and Rooster feared it would end in disaster. …But disaster had found them anyway, and now it was starting to look like it was too late to accept Hangman’s offer for a date. Damn.

When Dust is all That Remains (Love is Eternally Present)

After the events of the park’s catastrophic closing, Bradley just wanted to rest. Maybe take a nap and remind himself what he’d nearly had. But he couldn’t do that, because an active volcano was going to wipe out the remaining dinosaurs - including Jake’s raptors. …And if it was possible, he wasn’t going to let that happen. Maybe, while he was at it, he’d finally get that date, too.

be the ocean where I unravel by whimsicule {T} {🤠🐓}

He’s not even thirty years old. A lieutenant in the United States Navy. A highly-decorated aviator with two air-to-air kills. And he’s suddenly gone ahead and become scared of the goddamn sea. What a fucking joke.

make a lil' room for me by callsignyours {G} {🤠🐓}

Jake somehow ends up with Bradley's dog.

The Tiniest Problem by BeautifulCreature {G} {🤠🐓}

Bradley has an allergic reaction to his and Jake's new puppy.

Mine, Immaculate Dream by kazanskysmitchell {M} {☃️🏍️}

After the ever-so-stressful Dagger mission, Pete Mitchell is tired and craves some normalcy. It's seemingly difficult for him to return to normal this time, and his protective (and very worried) husband can't help but notice the changes in Pete's mental health. After an official PTSD diagnosis, being permanently grounded, and the adoption of a service dog, Pete Mitchell attempts to adjust, but can't do it without the help of his wingman and their adopted and dysfunctional family. (+ art from Cannibal_Hellhound)

better than your best dreams by teacupivy {M} {🤠🐓}

“Hey,” he says, nudging Bradly with his toes. “You brought Aubergine in, right?” Jake watches Bradley look up from his screen, stare into the mid distance, and decide to lie to him. “…Yes.” Tense and robotic, he slides his laptop onto the coffee table and slips out from beneath Jake’s legs. “Unrelated, I’ll be right back.”

With our pets, a house becomes our home by SunMonTue {E} {🤠🐓}

Jake adopts a puppy and then proceeds to fly across the country to take up a flight instructor position at Corpus Christi where Bradley is the vet (DVM) that Jake takes Brisket to once he arrives. Bradley asks him out. MeetCute.

Domestic Bliss by indybob {T} {🤠🐓}

Jake has had the longest week of his life. Between hops, training, and instructing, he’s worn out. Noticing how exhausted his husband is, Bradley takes it upon himself to go above and beyond to give Jake the most relaxing evening and weekend possible. Or: Much like Jake in this story, I’ve been very busy for the last couple of weeks, so I’m using this as my own form of catharsis. Feat. Brisket the Dog

Come on baby light my fire… by SunMonTue {E} {🤠🐓}

An apartment fire alarm at 1am featuring Jake in his underwear and Bradley with kittens.

#Animal Companions Recs List #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #icemav #iceman x maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #tom iceman kazansky x pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

[blazingstar29]

new Maverick headcanon that after the layton mission Iceman and Slider stay out on deployment whilst Maverick teaches at Top Gun. Without Goose, without friends he gets lonely so he starts going to church. Not because he's religious, not because he wants to repent his sins (though the guilt still weighs heavy) but because he wants to feel apart of a community. And he's straight up honest about it. When the old ladies start asking him about bible verses he just says 'I don't know any', and surprisingly they respect that. Maybe they see the dog tags and dark circles but someone will bring him frozen meals and some of the families invite him for dinner. He holds their hands and says Amen and that's enough for some reason. He's never had to do so little to be accepted.

Maybe six months down the line Ice gets shore leave long enough to come through Miramar. He arrives in town late on a saturday, with no way to find Maverick, no cell or address, he heads down to the base early on Sunday morning to find someone who knows.

"He'll be in Church," the gateman says. Ice's eyes nearly pop out of his head. Hesitantly he begins the drive to the only church in town, wondering what sort of religious nut Maverick's become. By the time he gets there the sermon must be over, but the guard was right. Maverick's there, sitting quietly with his hands shoved in his leather jacket to fight off the chill.

His boots echo painfully across the building's walls. He slides into the pew and watches the look of surprise spread across Maverick's face.

"Ice," he whispers.

"Hey Maverick. What are you doing here?"

Maverick gives him a look. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you." He gives him a look, now your turn.

"I like it. It's nice to be apart of something."

He smiles gently. "Mav, your in the Navy. Your already apart of something."

"I know. I don't believe in it. Carol does, I know she believes that Goose is up there watching out for all of us. And I feel him when the sun hits the horizon and there's a glare on my canopy. I dunno. I they just accepted me. They were happy to have me. It doesn't feel like that in the Navy. They invite me round for dinner and stuff."

Ice watches him thoughtfully. "That's nice."

On their way out, a sign for donations catches Ice's eye and he digs for his wallet fumbling with the coin pocket. He wants a way to say thank you to these people for looking after his wingman when a plaque catches his eye.

Thank you for the generous donation of $700 from Lt. Pete Mitchell in memory of Lt. Nick Bradshaw.

He feeds a hand full of notes into the acrylic box.

#top gun 1986 #icemav #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell

[lilaccrxsh]

Fight and Fall in Love - 1986!Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader (18+)

Description: You and Pete Mitchell had mutual friends in the Bradshaw's, but whenever you were together all you would do is argue and rile the other person up. That was until Carole decided something had to be done...

Content warnings: unprotected sex, enemies to lovers, arguing, “there was only one bed”, 100% self-indulgence from the author

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: Honestly guys, this was just incredibly self-indulgent. Unfortunately, young TC/1986!Mav is literally my perfect type so I'm blaming everything on that. *posts this and runs*

Thank you to @unmistakablyunknown for being my beta and removing my dyslexia from the google doc <3

You had known Carole Bradshaw before she even became Carole Bradshaw. You’d been friends since middle school, growing up and facing all of the adventures life throws at you together. When she met Nick, or “Goose”, you were her maid of honour at their wedding. Carole was really one of your closest friends.

“Have you decided what you want to do for your birthday?” Goose was sitting with his arm around his wife, her smaller body curled into the side of him on the sofa. Bradley was asleep upstairs, so the house was silent and dark apart from the talking and images from the tiny television. 

“I think I just want something nice and small. Maybe just have friends over for dinner. Bradley can be involved then too.” Carole replied. 

“I like the sound of that. Who would you want to come?”

“I was thinking… just Y/N and Mav.” 

Goose peered down at Goose, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. 

“Why? I thought you wanted your birthday to be ‘nice’.” 

Carole laughed softly. “It will be. We need to get those two together in the same room so they can finally get over themselves.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“It’s so obvious that they’re attracted to each other.” Carole said plainly, “Whenever we all meet they can’t stop looking at the other constantly. They clearly like each other, they just don’t know what to do about it.” 

“Y/N and Mav!?”

“Yup.”

“But all they do is argue with each other?”

“Exactly.”

Carole just watched her husband as the penny dropped for him. 

“Oh…” 

“Uh-huh, so I think it’s only fair if we give them a little nudge, don’t you think?” 

“You’re the boss, honey.” Goose pressed a kiss to her hairline. “What did you have in mind?” 

~~~

You pulled onto the Bradshaw’s drive just as the roar of a motorbike engine cut off behind you. You didn’t even need to look in your rear view mirror to know who had just parked their bike right behind your bumper. 

For a moment you considered not even leaving your car. If this wasn’t for Carole’s birthday, you might have done. It would have been easy to just reverse back onto the road, even if you did take out the motorbike in the process. You didn’t dislike the sound of that. The only downside was damage to your car.

There was no point sitting there behind the wheel any longer. You grabbed your overnight bag off the passenger seat and climbed out. Standing before you was the one person you were hoping not to see tonight. 

Pete Mitchell looked exactly the same as the last time you’d met. Aviators covered his eyes, making his expression unreadable, his dark hair was still cut short for the navy, and he was wearing that patch-covered bomber jacket that was at least one size too big for him. Light washed jeans, a white T-shirt and that bomber jacket - was that all he ever wore? 

There was an awkward moment before anyone spoke. You just stood staring at each other. 

“No one told me you were coming.” Pete’s tone was neutral, apart from an underlying hint of annoyance. 

“No one told me you were coming.” You repeated. 

Again another moment of silence. You were the one to break it, slamming your car door closed and locking it. You stalked past him, marching up to the front door. Pete reached your side as you knocked on the door. You purposely stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his presence. 

When Carole opened the door, she seemed shocked but strangely delighted, to see you two standing together on her doorstep. You were welcomed inside, it was nice to be back at the Bradshaw’s again. 

Soon you found yourself standing in the hallway conjoining the living room and kitchen. Carole was busy going back and forth. 

“Why didn’t you say he was coming?” You hissed at her, stepping aside so she could walk past you with a bowl. 

“Would you have still come?” Carole raised her eyebrows at you, a twinkle in her eyes. 

“Yes, because I love you, but I would have liked a bit of warning.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Maverick isn’t that bad. He’s really great if you get to know him.”

“I think I already know enough…” Everytime you and Pete Mitchell were in the vicinity of each other it didn’t end wonderfully. One of you would end up taunting the other, resulting in a battle of wit and cynicism. No-one ever seemed to win. The residing dislike just seemed to continue to the next meeting. 

The man in question was too distracted at the moment to bother that you were standing in the doorway. He was crouched down, sitting back on his heels to fiddle around with little Bradley’s toy trains. The kid laughed as Pete imitated the sound of a train starting off, pushing it along the carpet as if it was chasing the engine Bradley was holding. 

“How can you dislike him, Y/N?” Carole was smiling widely, enjoying her husband’s best friend having a beautiful relationship with their son. You opted not to answer her. At that minute, you couldn’t conjugate a proper retort. In front of you was a side to Pete Mitchell that you hadn’t seen before - fun-loving and carefree. He’d always seemed put-out and on the offensive with you in the past. You wondered what it would be like to have a nice and pleasant conversation with him for once…

You only realised you’d been lost in thought, transfixed on the sight before you when Carole nudged your arm. She wore a knowing smile. 

“Help me with dinner?” 

~~~

The plan Carole had concocted involved you, Pete, and her guest bedroom. Her one guest room.  

So when the two of you were led into the guest room, the door closed behind you, you found yourselves on the same side… of one double bed. 

“This isn’t going to work.”

“I’m actually going to agree with you.”

Pete was the first to move from the doorway, scoping out the rest of the room and analysing the bed. There was no couch or anything alike. 

“Pete look, I’m not exactly delighted by this either.” 

He ignored what you’d said, instead rounding on you and asking a completely different question. 

"Why do you always call me 'Pete'? No one calls me that."

"Because that's your name, idiot. I'm not one of your flying buddies so why would I call you anything else."

Pete just shrugged, but the hard set of his jaw didn’t relax. Did he want you to call him Maverick? It seemed an odd way of showing so. 

"It's the night before Carole's birthday, are you really going to make a fuss?" 

He huffed, but conceded, dramatically throwing his bag onto the floor near the door. 

"I want the left side." Pete stalked over to the bed before flopping down on top of the covers, spreading out his legs the length of the bed and putting his hands behind his head. He pushed his aviators down over his eyes and then was silent. 

You stood, also still and silent, wondering whether or not you would be able to survive the night. But as you had said, both you and Pete were here for a reason and you both cared enough to not cause a scene. 

"I'm going to the bathroom." You told him, collecting your wash bag and sleepwear from your backpack. You received only an uncaring grunt from the man who you were meant to share a bed with tonight. 

You spent a decent amount of time out of the room in the hope that when you returned, Pete would have changed and maybe, if you were lucky, be asleep. 

Luck was not completely on your side. 

He had changed, or well, removed items of clothing. His bomber jacket and white t-shirt were laying in a heap by his bag. The only thing Pete was wearing when you re-entered the room were loose shorts. He was still lounged out on top of the covers, giving you no other choice than to stare at his incredibly well-sculpted torso. 

"Is that really what you're going to sleep in?"

It seemed Pete hadn't noticed your presence, as he jumped slightly when you spoke to him. He looked down his own body through the dark lenses of the aviators. Confusion covered his features as you could see the furrow of his forehead. When he let out a quick laugh, turning completely to you while smirking, did you realise you'd made a mistake. By commenting, you'd shown you cared in some capacity.

"Why? Too distracting for you, sweetheart?" Pete's grin was huge. 

Yes. 

"No."

"Sure." With that he took the aviators off, placing them carefully on the nightstand. 

You were still standing by the closed door, making no effort to join him. 

"Are you going to stand there all night? Some of us actually want to sleep."

"Has anyone ever told you you're an asshole?"

"Yes, frequently." 

Now he'd got rid of the glasses, you could feel his eyes following you as you circled the bed. He was still sporting that smug smirk. You cursed yourself for letting him get under your skin, and for showing him that he had done. 

You hesitated, hand resting on the covers, reluctant to pull them back and crawl under them. With Pete still lying on top of them, there would be no accidental touching. The sheets were crisp against your legs, part of you wished you’d packed longer pants to sleep in - not shorts. You lay on your back, not wanting to face Pete, or even turn away from him. You’d turned the ceiling light off before you came over, now the only light was from the lamp next to Pete. 

“Do you want me to turn this off?” He asked, as if he could read your thoughts. He still hadn’t moved. You hummed a response indicating that you did want him to. In the dark, maybe you could pretend he wasn’t there. 

Pete reached for the switch, and the two of you were plunged into darkness. Neither person spoke for a minute or two after that. Once your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, you could see the slow rise and fall of Pete’s chest as he breathed. You couldn’t believe what was happening. You were lying next to the man who you’d been at odds with for years… and he wasn’t wearing much at all. 

You would be lying to yourself if you hadn’t thought at least once that Pete Mitchell was incredibly attractive. All of the times you’d been out with Carole and Goose, be it at a bar or just somewhere with Bradley in tow, Pete would have a chorus of females giving him attention. Through all of the petty comments you’d throw at each other, there was always a tiny part of you that wanted him to ignore them. Ignore them and continue bickering over whatever stupid thing was causing an feud that day. Could you even go as far to say you enjoyed fighting with him?

This might have been the longest time you two had been in the same room without a negative snipe. 

“That’s actually too cold.” Pete suddenly whined, shuffling the duvet from under him so you both were covered. You lay still, unable to move as you felt his knee bump against your left leg. Once he was settled, silence fell over the room again. You weren’t tired. The amount of adrenaline pumping through you would make sleep impossible. 

“Pete?” You’d spoken before you even realised what you were doing. Pete seemed as surprised as you. 

“Yes, Y/N?”

"I have a question."

"Ok..."

"Do you always wear the dog tag?"

You asked because a sliver of light was reflecting from the metal around his neck. 

There was a pause before Pete answered. "Yeah. It's who I am." 

You wanted to roll your eyes but in a way, it was sweet. And then you wanted to roll your eyes at the fact you thought something associated with Pete Mitchell was sweet. 

Instead of rolling your eyes, you actually rolled onto your side. Your arms were held to your chest. You were facing Pete now, but in the darkness of the room you could only see an outline of his features. It was unfair how good his side profile looked. 

“Can I ask you something else?” 

You felt the covers shift, the mattress moving under you as Pete mirrored your previous action. He was dangerously close now, lying on his side facing you. His body warmth was keeping the air beneath the duvet cosy. You wished you could see his eyes, you wanted to see how he was looking at you in the darkness.

“Go ahead.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. This wasn’t the Pete Mitchell you knew. In a single second his whole demeanour had altered. He was now soft and tender, encouraging this conversation that was the first of its kind.   

“What is flying like?” 

This brought a light laugh from the man lying opposite you, but it wasn’t malicious. 

“It’s the best feeling anyone could ever experience.”

“The best, huh?”

“Ok, maybe the second best.” 

This time you laughed together. It was unbelievably strange. How had you been arguing before, yet now you couldn’t think of anywhere you would rather be. But unlike the silence this afternoon out on the driveway, it was comfortable. You just wanted to lie there, perfectly content. 

You heard Pete take a deep breath before speaking, almost in a whisper, “I want you to know, Y/N, that I’m sorry, for how I’ve spoken to you in the past.”

You bit down hard on your lip. 

“I’m sorry too. It’s all water under the bridge now.” 

“In truth…” Pete started to say something but he trailed off. 

“Yeah?” You prompted him, your heart beating fiercely in your chest. 

“I…” He couldn’t seem to say whatever he wanted to. After he had failed the second time, he decided actions might be better than words. You felt  the pad of his thumb touch your jaw. 

When you didn’t flinch, Pete brought his hand to rest. His palm cupping your jaw, his thumb gracing your cheek. You couldn’t help but relax into him, humming in content. When Pete heard you, his hand left your face and moved to the small of your back, bringing you across the sheet to him. The only thing between you was the thin fabric of your top. The one thing better than seeing Pete’s naked chest, was being pressed up against it. 

“Is this ok?” 

You were barely audible as you whispered a “yes”. Every part of your skin that was touching Pete’s felt like it was on fire, and every part that wasn’t, was still burning with an unbelievable intensity. 

“God you’re so beautiful, Y/N. You don’t know how hard it’s been to be around you and not be able to tell you that.”

He was tracing your face, his thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, fingertips nestling into your hair behind your ear. When you felt his lips on your forehead you sank into him, pushing your hips against his, wrapping your right leg over him. Pete kissed your forehead, both your cheeks, your jaw… and then your lips.

Your lips were barely touching at first, gracing each other in another attempt to gain consent. You’d be damned if you waited another second to kiss Pete Mitchell. You hadn’t realised for how long you’d wanted him in this way. The all consuming need to be needed, wanted, loved by him. 

When you kissed, it was impossible not to react. Your leg linked around his became wrapped around his waist. His hand came to squeeze your thigh, holding your bare skin against the muscles of his back. 

In a split second, Pete was on top of you. 

"Are we really doing this?"

"Yes we are."

You wanted to touch him. You wanted him to touch you, everywhere. It didn’t matter where his hands were, or how his weight felt on top of you, it was never enough. It would never be enough. Your own hands were grasping at his back, feeling the lean muscles tense and relax under your fingertips. 

“Tell me what you want, Y/N.” Pete didn’t stop kissing you, moving down your neck and collarbones. 

“I need you, Pete. Anything. Fuck me. Just touch me.” You were moaning incoherent thoughts as he sucked on one specific place under your ear. Pete’s low laugh against your skin when straight to your core. 

“As you wish, sweetheart.” 

Your hips rose completely off the bed as you felt his hand breach the waistline of your shorts. You were sensitive, all of Pete’s previous exploration of your frame had done its job. Pete found your clit, delicately circling it as you mewled under him. Your hips bucked again, uncontrollably and with force. 

“Careful, baby.” Pete cooed, steading your waist by shifting his weight. Pete’s intention was to turn you on enough that he could fuck you easily, but it would seem he didn’t have to do anything more. You were writhing already, and when he put one finger inside of you, you could do nothing but stifle an inaudible sound into his shoulder. 

Pete was in awe of your reaction. How responsive you were to him was even more of a turn-on than he could ever imagine. He helped you remove your shirt, and then take your shorts down over your legs. He threw the items out of bed. 

“You need to get these off, now.” You ordered, claiming some control over your own actions. Pete helped you fumble with his shorts, and soon neither of you were wearing anything. 

“Please?” In any other situation you would be embarrassed by how desperate you sounded. But this time, you didn’t care. 

The feeling of Pete inside you was intoxicating. Your legs were wrapped around his back, your arms around his neck. There was no possible way you could be any closer to each other. The way he continued to kiss you made up for all the times you hadn’t been with each other. With every peck, moan, movement, the tension that had built up between you two disappeared. 

“Y/N…” 

You loved how Pete said your name. It was becoming impossible to think straight. All your thoughts were centred on the feeling at your core, the mounting pressure that wasn’t ceasing. 

"Maverick…"

Pete’s call sign fell from your lips instinctively. Through the darkness you heard him gasp, followed by a filthy moan before he thrust into you again, hard. 

Your face was sheltered in the crook of Pete’s neck, so any sound you made was muffled. It was becoming very difficult to not cry out. You were so close too, it wouldn’t be long before you would come. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you-” But whatever Pete was going to say was overshadowed by the beginning of your orgasm. You began shuddering against him, moaning pitifully as you hit your peak. Simultaneously, it became too much for Pete. You both rode out your highs together, unable to pull away. 

You felt empty when Pete rolled off you, but you weren’t without contact for long. Pete lay on his back, you curled into his side, hand resting above his heart. He was holding your hand, your fingers intertwined on his chest. 

All that was heard throughout the room was the sound of heavy breathing. It was a few minutes before either of you were able to speak. 

“You called me Maverick.” He breathed.

"I did." The sultry tones in your own voice were a shock even to you. You leant forwards, taking the soft skin of his ear in your teeth. "Now, show me again why that's your call sign." 

~~~

The next morning, you and Pete walked into the Bradshaw’s kitchen together. Pete’s arm was around your waist, his hand resting on your hip bone. It felt so natural, you wished you’d done this before. 

Goose made an inhuman noise, pointing excitedly like a child at you and Pete. He was flitting between gaping at his two best friends and looking astonished at his wife. Carole was just smiling incessantly. 

What you and Pete didn’t know was that you'd unknowingly given Carole the best birthday present she could want. 

Masterlist

#lilaccrxsh #top gun #top gun fic #top gun x reader #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x reader #pete mitchell x reader

[sailor-aviator]

Tom and Jake's Relationship

Story: The Dagger Posse Universe

Word Count: 2k (oops)

TW: Mentions of death, Mentions of illness, Mentions of pandemic, Mentions of funerals, Mentions of burials, References to prostitution, Mentions of hanging, Starvation. Think that's it.

A/N: Been sitting on this one for a while. I wanted to show the kind of relationship that Jake and Ice have, and I sure hope I was able to give you even the slightest glimpse into how much they care about one another. Please enjoy!

The epidemic that swept the small town of Maverick was as quick as it was devastating. It slaughtered several of the different townsfolk, and left several with no family left. Tom had been there to comfort Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and a small Bradley Bradshaw when Nick and Carole had been lowered into the cold, dark earth of the desert. Bradley had been so young, and he had clung to Maverick's leg, hiding his face away. Tom wasn't sure if it was to keep from seeing his parents like that or to keep his parents from seeing him like that.

They had been good, kind people. Goose was well liked by most and Carole was well liked by all. Both always having smiles for whoever had the fortune of encountering them. And they had been fighters, holding out until they couldn't find the strength to draw another breath.

Tom had been walking aimlessly down the streets of Maverick after their funeral, searching for what, he didn't know at the time. The day had been cold and eerily calm, like the desert mourned with the sheriff too. The image of young Bradley clinging to Maverick's leg as he tried so hard to keep a brave face replayed in his head. The only time he cracked was when the men began to lower the coffins into the graves below, and the boy had shed a single tear and let out a solitary sob.

Tom's heart broke for the son of his friends, but he knew that Penny and Mav would take good care of him. Still, it wasn't easy to lose your parents, especially at such a young age.

He rounded a corner near the edge of town, stopping short at the solitary figure that sat huddled on the foot of the stairs leading up to the back of the butcher's shop. Mossy, green eyes popped up to look at him, and Tom was taken aback by how gaunt the poor boy looked.

"Jake," he nodded, looking him over. There were dark circles under his eyes, skin pale and he definitely looked thinner than the last time the older man had seen him.

"Sheriff," the blond nodded back, voice barely audible as he slumped back in on himself. Tom felt a pang run through his heart at how tired he sounded. A boy of eight years shouldn't be sounding like that.

"What are you doing, Jake?"

"Sarah didn't make enough to feed us again," the boy whispered, eyes closed in defeat. "I always tell her that I found food somewhere else so she gets enough to eat without worryin' about me. Sometimes the butcher will give me scraps that I can cook."

"How long has this been going on?"

He shrugged. "Since Ma an' Da' died."

Tom's stomach lurched. A couple of weeks then. The sheriff knew he couldn't go on like this. He knew that Sarah was doing her best to provide for her and her brother, but there was only so much a girl of fourteen could do unless she chose to sell herself. Tom wasn't going to let that happen. He owed it to their parents to take care of the two.

"Come with me, Jake," he murmured, causing the boy to look up at him in confusion.

"What?" He frowned, stumbling to a stand. "Why?"

"We're going to go see Penny about a meal."

"I can't afford that, Mr. Ice," Jake exclaimed, despair in his eyes. Tom shook his head, placing a gentle hand on his shoulders to guide him back into town.

"Don't you worry about that. I'll get you sorted out."

And Tom had seen to it that Jake ate regularly, cooking him meals and sending him home with leftovers as often as he could. He had even taught him to hunt, and the boy was a halfway decent shot when he wanted to be.

Soon, Jake was old enough to work, and Tom made sure the boy was being paid fair wages, working odd jobs to earn enough to support him and his sister.

"You're not workin' too hard, are you, Jake?" He asked the young man one day. Jake had looked at him with a tired smile, rubbing at his eyes as he answered.

"No, Tom," he sighed. "I'm not working too hard. Just earning my living."

Tom had hummed, but made sure to slip a couple of extra dollars into the boy's pouch when he wasn't looking. Winter was coming up, and he knew Jake was in need of a new pair of boots. It had been too long since he bought the last pair, and it would do him no good to run around without proper footwear. Now that he thought about it, it wouldn't hurt to give him a couple more dollars for new clothes, so into the pouch it went.

Tom couldn't help the smile that grew on his face at the sight of Jake in his new trousers and boots two weeks later.

"What are you grinnin' about?" Jake had asked him, brow furrowed in curiosity. Tom just shook his head and chuckled.

"Don't you mind now."

Tom knew that Jake's heart was in the right place, but he could have done without the extra grey hairs.

"Bradley's problems are his own," he had groused to the blond. "You shouldn't go gettin' into trouble for someone who's fighting their own demons, son."

"Bradley is my friend, Ice," Jake had sighed, sipping on his beer at the bar. "I'm not leaving a friend to walk through hell alone."

Tom felt a twinge of pride. Jake had grown into a fine young man. Loyal, strong, kind, and clever. All things a man should be, Tom supposed, but Jake's loyalty was a double edged sword at best.

"I'm not going to be able to bail you out of these predicaments for forever, you know," he had grumbled, sipping on his own beer. Jake huffed out a laugh, patting the older man on the shoulder.

"I don't expect you to," he grinned, shooting him a wink. "One day I'll have enough money where I won't need to do this anymore. Maybe I'll even build you a fancy new house while I'm at it."

"Every single one of these grey hairs is because of you, you know," Tom scowled, shoving the younger man lightly.

"I think they make you look distinguished."

"Smartass."

Now this was something Tom hadn't expected. Of course, he knew that Jake had his fair share of flings with the women in town, but he had never seen the boy so transfixed before. And it appeared the young lady had taken an interest back in him, though the more he observed the two, the more he wasn't sure she knew the extent of her feelings.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you son?" He had remarked to Jake one day after the young lady had left him standing in the middle of the street. Jake squared his shoulders back, and despite his grin, Tom saw a look of quiet determination in his green eyes.

"I'm going to marry that girl one day, Tom," he had declared.

"Pretty sure she has to like you first."

"I'll get her to like me," the blond shot back. And for a moment, Tom was taken aback. In Jake's eyes was a mixture of two things the older man wasn't sure he had ever seen before: nervousness and longing.

"Give it time," Tom cautioned, squeezing Jake's shoulder. "A girl like that needs to be earned, not won."

It was now or never. Tom had convinced the marshal to go and get a drink to ease some of his tension, and now was the only chance he would get to free Jake. Tom was never going to let the boy hang, he couldn't let it happen. He knew there would be grave consequences for himself for letting Jake go free, but he wasn't about to let him down. While Bradley had always had Maverick, Jake had always had Tom. Tom wouldn't let the only son he had ever known leave this world by the end of a rope.

He stopped as the front door creaked open to reveal you, a bedraggled wreck as you stared at him. Now this was a surprise. Tom was sure that you wouldn't show up, after all it was late and you were a lady if nothing else.

“You shouldn’t be here, darlin’,” he drawled, placing his feet on the floor. “This ain’t no place for a lady such as yourself.”

“Where is he?” You asked him, stepping into the room and quickly closing the door behind you. Tom heard Jake call out, and as you moved towards the back room, he stopped you.

“Are you sure you’re ready to see him like this?” He asked you quietly, lips pressing into a thin line as he continued to study you. You stared at him with fire in your eyes, a fire that had Tom's mind blazing in curiosity. What a tough little thing you were.

“Please,” you murmured, your eyes never wavering. “Please let me see him.”

Tom stared at you for a moment longer before glancing at the door. Any chance of getting Jake out now was gone the second you stepped foot through the door. He would have to come up with another plan, but for now, the least he could do is let the two of you see each other.

“You have five minutes, Scout.”

Tom was still thinking about the way your eyes had sparkled as you saw the wanted poster for Isaac Cassidy. He could practically see the cogs in your head turning as you played the part of the damsel in distress for Beau, but Tom could see now that you were no fool. No, you were more than capable, and he supposed that you had come up with a plan of your own.

"That girl of yours sure is something," he had mused to Jake, watching the blue light of the morning filter into the jail.

"You have no idea," the young man croaked back. "I love her, Tom."

"I know."

"I don't want her to see my hang."

Tom paused at that. He had already come up with a contingency plan, but a feeling inside of him told him that you were hard at work making preparations for your own handiwork.

"Somehow," Tom drawled, "I don't think she will."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them.

"I'm sorry, Tom."

"What the hell are you sorry for?" Tom rolled his eyes, earning a sigh.

"I'm sorry for how things ended up. You always warned me to stay out of trouble, and now here we are."

"Yeah, well," Tom sniffed, pushing out of his chair and heading for the door. He had to speak with Maverick before time was up. "Maybe you'll listen to me once you get out of here."

And with that, he walked through the door.

Tom watched as Jake led you down the road, the crowd crowing eagerly behind him. He had to hand it to you, you were a cunning, ruthless lady. Not many people could have pulled off what you did, and Tom could count you as one of the few people in this world that left him impressed.

He supposed that Jake would try to stay out of trouble moving forward, but trouble had always had a knack for finding Jake if nothing else. Tom let out a sigh as he watched the young man place a gentle kiss to your forehead, squeezing you tightly as you continued to walk towards your home.

"You comin'?" Bradley asked him, an impassive look on his face. Tom nodded, turning to start making his way through the crowd. He wasn't one to take delight in death, but he was certainly one to make sure that no harm came to the people he cared about. Isaac Cassidy would die today in place of Jake Seresin. Tom would rest easy knowing that the boy he raised would stay safe for another day.

#dhtn #don't hang'em til noon #drabble #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #hangman imagine #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin #dgu #dagger gang universe

[aki-draws-things]

Lil' snippet of the dark omegaverse I've started for whumptober.

Feat. Bits of smut, dark nick and mav, omega Ronnie.

(Not feat. The not so nice navy background with Omegas.)

"Careful Mavi. Don't fill him up, even though thats what such a pretty omega deserves. Save it for after , when we're off deployment."

"But won't he be sent with Iceman?"

Goose growled and with suppressed laughter maverick thrusts grew faster.

"He's my... our omega. After this, Iceman will have to find a brand new rio."

Maverick grinned, bit down in him again, exactly over the previous mark, licked the contour, sucked hard, enough to bruise.

"Ours?"

"Ours." Nick confirmed. "And you will have your nice little pup. Give little Brad a brother or sister to play with. Hopefully our sweetheart will be good enough to give us a little alpha, mh?"

#omega ron #alpha nick #alpha mav #dark nick and mav #kinda smutty #omegaverse au #ron slider Kerner #nick goose bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #top gun 1986 #top gun fanfiction #snippet #aki writes

[coffeeandbatboys]

Pick Up The Pieces (Maverick Mitchell x Bradshaw!Wife!reader)

Summary: After your brother's death, your husband has nightmares reliving the whole incident. In the midst of this, you find out some information that you're not sure how to handle.

Warnings: mentions of Goose's death, angst, hurt/comfort, mention of pregnancy

A/N: I would like to do some fluff/humor Mav fics but this one is pretty dark.

You weren't quite sure what was happening when you were woken up by a sharp cry. Next to you in the dark, you could feel his body being racked by sobs and ragged breaths. Upon realizing that he was having a nightmare, you shot up in bed and turned on the lamp.

"Pete. C'mon baby wake up." You gently shook his shoulder, saying his name like a prayer. In an instant he jolted awake, eyes frantically finding yours. When he became aware that he was, in fact, in the bedroom with you, he fell back against the bed. His breathing changed, but didn't level out.

"Breathe, baby. You're safe."

His eyes closed and face contorted into a pained expression. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?" He apologized, not bothering to open his eyes.

You disregarded the question. "Don't be sorry, Pete. Are you okay?"

His answer came in a strange choked-out hiccup. He sat up and faced away from you, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

You, however, were not going to let up easily, so you stood and went around to his side. His eyes were locked on the carpeted floor, unwilling to meet yours. So you did the first thing you thought of.

You pulled his head against your chest, wrapped your arms around him and carded your fingers through his hair, tugging gently at the strands.

"It's okay baby." You whispered. "It's okay to cry."

"It was my fault-"

"No!" You cut him off, albeit sternly. You quieted your tone. "There was nothing that could be done, Pete."

His grip on your waist became tighter.

"Nick thought of you as if you were his own blood brother, despite us being together. He told us to take care of each other, and to take care of Carol and Bradley. That's what I intend to do, and I'd rather that the love of my life is by my side while doing so."

His whole body was now trembling against you, and you barely heard the timid 'I love you' that he mumbled into the crook of your neck.

"I love you too. So much." You kissed his forehead, echoing the words.

Tears brimmed in your own eyes as you held your Husband. Suddenly remembering something, you stilled.

"Wait here." You commanded, prying yourself out of his hold, which he reluctantly released.

You padded into the bathroom and rummaged around in the box beneath the sink. Grabbing the two pregnancy tests you'd taken earlier in the day, you prepared yourself to tell him.

Slowly walking into the bedroom, dimly lit by a single lamp, you hesitated.

He noticed.

"What's wrong?" He asked, voice low and cautious.

"I-I'm not sure if this is a good time to tell you, but you're going to find out sooner or later."

His brows furrowed as you placed the positive tests in his lap. He blinked rapidly for a second, as if his eyes were adjusting to what you'd just presented.

"It's a positive....?" He stammered, eyes flying up to look at you.

You nodded.

"So...you're, you're pregnant." He clarified.

You nodded again, only this time re-assuming your position from earlier. Once again his arms were around you and he was at a loss for words. You stroked his back as tears finally escaped from both of you.

In the midst of his shaky sobs, he kept repeating his love for you, holding you as tight as possible.

As you both climbed back into bed, still holding each other, you turned the light off and fell asleep, knowing that Nick Bradshaw, your brother and your guardian angel would be watching over you.

#pete maverick mitchell #maverick x reader #pete mitchell x reader #Top gun #top gun 1986 #Pete maverick Mitchell x female reader #Pete Mitchell x wife!reader

[jaidens]

Young Maverick Mitchell x reader fic where it starts out super angsty and it ends really sweet between mav and the reader

then i think about summer, all the beautiful times watched you laughin' from the passenger side

pairing [s] : pete ‘ maverick ’ mitchell x feminine!reader

warning [s] : mentions of : goose, fighting, arguments. | it all gets better, swear.

a/n [s] : requests are open.

The night felt fresh on your mind, even months later. Pete storming into your small house, the sound of slamming doors and boots slapping the floor. You're in the small kitchen making dinner for you and your boyfriend. The radio playing the top hits of 1986, The Bangles filling the small house with a ‘Manic Monday’. Pete was still your Pete, but he was different. Ever since that fateful day of Nick Bradshaw’s death, he was different.

Sleeping in, coming home late. The smell of booze and cigarettes that ejected from him whenever he would get home before a shower. You had mentioned it, but the man would shrug it off as nothing. You decidedly chose not to press in hopes things would go back to the way they were. Pete’s eyes had bags of darkness underneath and his eyes were a blood-shot red that night.

“Pete,” You said. “I’m making your favorite. Alfredo with extra sauce.” Pete doesn't find your eyes at all, staring down at the ground as he opens the refrigerator and takes a bottle of beer from it. You take the pot over to the table and set it down on a towel. You scoop some onto his plate and there isn't a thankful word in any way from him.

“Pete, honey. We have to talk about this. This isn't healthy. The drinking is getting out of hand. I won't stand back and watch someone I love practically kill themselves.” As you press, Pete gets visibly more tight into himself. His shoulders are practically touching his ears as he clenches his fists into balls of rage. You're staring at him, waiting and anticipating a response from him. All you hear is silence, contradictory to how he usually was. “You need to stop. This isn't okay.”

“You don't control me. I'm a grown adult, and I can do whatever I please. Go and leave me the fuck alone!” Pete is enraged as he storms up and out of the house, and all you hear is the sound of his bike revving away and speeding down the road.

Pete left you sitting at the dinner table, eating your food you made it silence as his was losing its warmth into the air. You can't bear to stare at the picture on the wall of you and him. It was a simple photo that Goose had taken, but the memories and the emotional ties that held it to your soul entwined with laces of sadness.

You hadn't seen him for five months, seventeen days, and twenty-two hours. You're sitting in The Hard Deck with some of your close friends from college. You catch a glimpse of him. The short, dark-headed man in his flight suit grabbed two beers and walked away. “Isn’t that Pete? Oh hell no.” Your friend Katelyn says, grabbing her purse and wrapping the small jacket she brought into a ball.

The drink in your hand suddenly felt heavy as you set it down against the table. As soon as your eyes click together, you want to disappear and shrink away. He hurt you; but those soft green eyes drag you dangerously into the hole further in. The bubbly feeling in you starts to boil and you take back the drink you have and gain that liquid courage. Who said you would need it?

Here comes Pete Mitchell, walking over to you while holding that eye contact with you. He comes into your vision and he looks better, healthier and happier. His eyes are the color you fell in love with, and he looks much more normal that what he had originally looked like. “Pete.” Your voice wavers as you say that name.

The name burns your tongue. Your friends are still standing near you, one of them being encaptured with a random guy who complimented her. “Can we.. talk?” Pete asks you, gulping when Katelyn stares him down. With the extra feet she had on him, it wasn't hard for him to not be scared.

“Sure, we can talk. Do you wanna, go outside? Like old times.” You follow him out to the door, the sounds of the bar immediately quietening as the door shuts behind you two. Pete stops on his tracks, turns, and you're looking at him. The silence is uncomfortably long before either one of you speaks.

“Are you stationed here again?” You ask quietly as you sit down on one of the many benches. Pete nods and sits down next to you, twirling a pen around his fingers. “I’m stationed for the next couple of months. Made another admiral mad again.”

You and him hold a small and relaxed conversation. Somehow pushing through the uncomfortableness after months of estrangement. The quietness of the night looks over both of you. His knee touches yours, and you can't tell if it's purposely or not. However it enlightens those fireworks once again.

Your hand opens and sits against your leg, giving an opening to him. His hand almost unconsciously slides into yours and holds it softly. You turn your head and Pete is staring at you. The magnetic pull in-between you and him pulls you closer to him, head slightly turning.

His lips touch yours softly, baring sliding over them. His hand goes behind your neck and pulls you close in, as your lips play closely together. “Pete... I missed you.” You tell him as you stare into his eyes once more underneath the gorgeous moonlit night.

“Me too. I'm never leaving you again.” Pete tells you. Hugging you tightly into his arms. Whatever roads you took that led you back to him, you thank your lucky stars.

#pete mitchell x y/n #pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell angst #maverick x you #maverick x reader #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun 1986 #pete mitchell x fem!reader #pete mitchell x you #pete mitchell angst #top gun angst

[themorriganwitch]

Top Gun Maverick - How the Characters met their s/o and some HeadCanons for their relationship

Summary:  How the Characters met their s/o and some HeadCanons for their relationship

Characters: Rooster, Hangman, Bob, young Mav and Fanboy

Warnings: 18+, MDNI

Words: 1,8k

Masterlist

_______________________________________________________________________

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin:

-       contrary to many believes I am convinced that Jake married young.

-       either his high school or his college sweetheart

-       definitely enemies to lovers

-       it took them a while to figure their feelings out bc Jake was a teasing / flirting jerk and his s/o was not having any of it.

-       they are the kind of couple who are extremely into PDA that makes everyone around them feeling cringey.

-       also, a very competitive couple but in a healthy way where both parties are thriving to help the other becoming the best version of themselves.

-       always doing their work outs together

-       they probably had their first child soon after graduating college, 6 months married when Jake had just joined the Navy.

-       it was not always an easy road, but they always worked through it.

-       I am convinced they have a bunch of kids, probably between 3 or 4 with one set of twins.

-       Jake passed out after he found out he will be a dad of twins.

-       during the TGM time frame his kids were between the ages 10 – 5.

-       I see Jake being the chilled parent, while his s/o is the one who is a bit stricter in her parenting.

-       as well as with his wife, Jake always makes sure to reassure his kids to follow their dreams.

-       at least one of the twins (a boy and a girl) when not both joined the navy, giving their mom a heart attack.

-       After Jake got a permanent Job without being on deployments that often, he totally bought a ranch with some cows, so he would have an apology to wear his cowboy hat the whole time.

————————————————————————

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw :

-       Bradley never really believed that he was capable of having a relationship.

-       Everyone he ever loved either died or betrayed him, so he closed off from an early age.

-       That’s why he only had one-night stands or casual friends with benefits scenarios for the first 30 years of his life.

-       Bradley is made for the friends to lovers’ trope.

-       Probably met his s/o via friends, maybe a friend of Phoenix who he met a few years after they graduated Top Gun

-       She is probably quite a bit younger than him.

-       They were friends for at least 1 ½ years, until Bradley trusted her with his whole heart.

-       It was on his dad’s death anniversary, which he normally spends alone, when his s/o showed up on his door, knowing he would need someone today.

-       She is the first person who has seen him cry since his mom died.

-       That was also the day he knew that she is not just a friend, but he is in love.

-       At first, he was totally overwhelmed, never kneeing the feeling of real love.

-       He probably needed some space after this, processing everything.

-       But then showed up on their doorstep, confessing his feelings.

-       After that day the both of them were inseparable

-       They are each other’s best friend, partner in crime and ride or die.

-       He is also the person who would never judge his partner for having mental health issues, he would be incredibly supportive cause he knows what the darkness feels like

-       They probably have 2 or three kids, 2 girls and one boy (who is obviously called Nick)

-       Roosters wife is probably pregnant with baby number 2 during the TGM time frame.

-       They own a huge beach house in San Diego

- They are hosting the best barbecues

-       They also have 2 dogs, probably golden retrievers which Rooster named Iceman and Maverick (he still thinks about getting a chihuahua and calling him Hangman)

————————————————————————

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd :

-       Robert knows his s/o since birth.

-       Definitely childhood friends to lovers

-       Their moms were best friend since middle school and as soon as they knew they will have each a boy and a girl, they had the dream of their kids ending up together.

-       That’s exactly the reason it took the two of them years to actually come together.

-       Both were quite good friends but their moms’ making comments about them coming together is just extremely cringe and strange for them (in their teen years)

-       Their ways parted when they choose different colleges and only saw each other on holiday breaks when they came home.

-       They would then spend every minute together by watching movies or driving through the city at night, talking about life.

-       It was when Bob announced he will join the Navy that his s/o realized that she is in love with him.

-       And it took Bob 8 months longer, until he had to eject out of a plane for the first time, terrified for his dear life that he realized the same.

-       After Bob graduated Top Gun, he made his way back home and the both of them shared their feelings with each other that night.

-       Everything about their relationship screams true love.

-       Their moms both cried when the two announced they were engaged, 3 years after coming together.

-       Due to some issues, it took Bob and his s/o a couple of years to get pregnant.

-       But after a couple of years, they welcomed their only daughter in this world.

-       Bob is definitely a girl dad.

-       And he would throw the world best sleep overs for his daughter.

-       With some homemade popcorn and different themes, he crafted some décor for

-       Due to their fertility issues, they were probably still trying doing the TGM time frame, so this would probably a topic Bob and Phoenix would have talked often about in private.

-       And she was just as happy as the grandmas to be, when she found out she was going to be an aunt.

-       Bob and his s/o  bought a huge house in their hometown shortly after their daughter was born

-       This house is also the spot where every Dagger Celebration takes place

————————————————————————

Young Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell:

-       His relationship to his s/o reminds me of the lyrics in Taylor Swifts song   Mine

-       ‘You made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter.’

-       His tropes also totally scream summer romance and the one that got away.

-       It’s also giving Baby and Johnny (Dirty Dancing)

-       He probably met her the summer when he was graduating Top Gun

-       He was in his late twenties and she probably in her early to mid/twenties.

-       She was probably in law or med school, trying to make her daddy proud, but she is a free spirit who is giving artsy vibes.

-       Probably painted Mav on his Bike or in a cockpit a couple of times

-       Their relationship progressed fast and was pretty passionate.

-       Mav loved the sneaking around and encouraged his s/o to step up to her dad and follow her dreams.

-       They had the perfect summer romance, with those cinematic moments (like riding his bike in the rain and sharing passionate kisses after)

-       Their whole world shattered after Goose died.

-       It was the end of the summer and s/o had to leave for university a couple of days after

-       They were both heartbroken but agreed that every summer romance must come to an end.

-       They were both deeply in love, without telling the other.

-       Their heartbreak was horrifying.

-       But they never stopped thinking about each other.

-       It took them 5 years to reunite, meeting up in San Diego again, where reader opened a little cafe for artist after quitting college.

-       It was a beautiful reunion, which lasted about 8 days until Mav got deployed.

-       They both agreed that a stable relationship with a house, dog and kids were not what was in the cards for them at that point, so they kept in casual.

-       It was about 15 years later, when Mav was in his mid 40’s and his s/o in her late 30’s that they agreed on settling down, in their own kind of way.

-       Mav opened his shop and they both agreed on buying a black Labrador which they called Goose.

- Being the dagger squads second set of parents and working with them through their life crises

-       Their life is not what others, especially people in the navy, would call conventional.

-       But neither Mav nor his s/o is conventional and that’s the exact reason they love each other so deeply.

————————————————————————

Mikey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia:

-       He is the dream guy for every fangirl.

-       He probably met his s/o on a convention.

-       This or it was a blind date which was set up by Payback.

-       The two of them went out for Burger and Fries in a typical American Diner for their first date, where they talked and talked about every fandom they had ever been in

-       They always have something to talk about

-       The two of them will go to Comic Con and Fan Events together, wearing the cutest couple costumes ever.

-       Gamer Boyfriend and Book Lover Girlfriend

-       He is the one to re-create book scenes with

-       Like standing in a doorframe and so on

-       He will beta read every fanfiction his s/o ever wrote, giving great critique and compliments.

-       Each other’s safe place

-       After always being judged for being a part of several fandoms from early ages on, it is very important for them to never judge their partner and making sure both of them are feeling safe.

-       Huge discussions after which fictional characters their kids will be named after

-       They probably have two boys, who are 4 years apart.

-       The first one was a couple of weeks old during the TGM time frame.

-       Its broke Mickeys heart to leave his girlfriend and his newborn son alone, but Payback made sure to bring his WSO back to his family.

-       They married shortly after the Uranium Mission, Payback being Fanboys best man.

-       This wedding definitely had some Pinterest inspiration from different fandoms.

-       For the name of their second son, the dagger squad had to vote between different fantasy names.

-       Mickey lost after trying to get the others vote for Anakin Legolas Garcia

-       The two of them hosting gaming events for Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, and Hangman on the one side, while his wife, Bob, Phoenix, and Rooster had their book club meeting on the other side of the living room.

-       They also make the greatest Christmas cards, every year a different fantasy theme.

______________________________________________________________________

#tgm #tgm cast #tgm fandom #tom cruise #miles teller #glen powell #danny ramirez #lewis pullman #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x y/n #Hangman #Hangman x Reader #Hangman x y/n #tgm smut #hangman smut #Jake Seresin smut #tgm fluff #tgm headcanons #Bradley Brashaw #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw #hangster #icemav #Bradley Bradshaw x reader #Bradley Bradshaw x y/n #Bradley Bradshaw smut #Bradley Bradshaw fluff #Robert Floyd #Robert Floyd x Reader #Robert Floyd x y/n

[daggerspared]

bradley’s house feels empty. it’s always a bit of a shock, to step over the threshold from sunny, sandy san diego into the gaping abyss of his old house. it’s felt that way for nearly as long as he can remember.

first, it was the absence of nick bradshaw. his mother, bless her soul, tried so hard--goose’s old knickknacks spilling over shelves and table surfaces, the ever-permeating smell of recipes gathered from the other military wives (always with just a tinge of burning), the garden she kept in full bloom--but she was just one woman and the house was built for a family, not a widow and her four year old son. bradley remembers pockets of silence. nights with carole staring blankly at the tv, the only source of light and sound, some game show host’s plastic laugh echoing into the ceiling.

and then carole died and bradley fled the nest for maverick (and iceman’s) home.

when he finally returned, a man now, he couldn’t even make it through the door. no dad. no mom. no maverick. but there was ice on the phone laying out his options. selling it is even more unthinkable than living in it.

so bradley rents it out. to families, couples, rowdy groups of college kids. he hopes it fits them better than it ever did him.

then the mission happens and recuperating in the barracks sounds even worse than if he’d just laid down in the snow and died, so back to the house it is.

natasha had dropped him off at the door, worried eyes as he took a fortifying breath and opened the door to darkness, but he waved her off. he’s been alone with the silence for a few days. no matter how many lamps he turns on or how many windows he opens, it’s all so cold and dark and quiet. hollow.

that changes quickly.

jake muscles his way through bradley’s door and bradley can’t even stop him, his and mav’s crash landing leaving him with a limited range of mobility.

jake uses all his pots and pans and puts them back in the wrong places. he leaves his jackets over the back of the chairs, the sofa, the door handles. his voice booms down every corner, making snide comments at bradleys choice in decor or telling some fantastic story to coyote over the phone. bradley can’t turn his head without some evidence of jakes overwhelming intrusion into his life.

and he realizes he hasn’t heard an echo for days.

because jake seresin is big. big head, big talk, too big for his boots. 

too big for top gun—the narrow hallways and stuffed classrooms. too big for the bars they find themselves occupying—spreading himself all over the pool table, dominating the dart board, somehow always punching a new track into the jukebox. and certainly too big for the aircraft carriers. hell, bradleys surprised he even fits in the cockpit.

it’s an opinion everyone shares. that hangman is a lot. too much. he exists and he does it loudly and largely. there isn’t a room on earth that could fit him and his ego. you’d suffocate if you stand too close too long.

but for the first time in days, bradley can breathe and the air doesnt taste stale.

later, jake will tell him about the seresin house. the fields that swallow you whole, the endless expanse of blank walls, the dining table with too many chairs. little jakey seresin, filling himself up with hot air, trying to fill the space his parents love never did.

too small for the house of his childhood, too big for the bunks, but here, his sound and spirit nestle into the space, into all the nooks and crannies that had been cold as long as bradley can remember.

bradley doesn’t think the bradshaw home feels empty anymore. he doesn’t think jake feels like too much anymore. he thinks it all fits perfectly.

#hangster #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #blu posts #i wrote so many sappy tags for this like jake is literally the sun hes literally bradleys shining sun #jake in smug asshole mode: im everywhere you cant get rid of me #bradley: ...ok<3 #jakes an invasive species but bradley thought the area was looking a bit bare #bradley chucks more of jakes things around because he likes the way it makes the house looked lived in #soulmates like what can i say besides soulmates

[callsignlucky]

talk to me, lucky (part 4)

summary: You're Maverick’s kid. You’re also Bradley Bradshaw’s best friend—or at least, you were. What lies between you two now is uncharted territory.

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw/mitchell!reader

wc: 3k

a/n: me posting another part two days later? it's more likely than you think! i hit the angst button on this one sorry y'all :')

<- part 3 | part 5 ->

When Bradley Bradshaw was little, his father put glow stars on his ceiling when he said he was afraid of the dark. 

After Goose passed away, things slowly faded away with time and nicknacks slowly started to be replaced as time marched on, memories began to fade, people started to talk about Goose less and less. 

But the one thing that remained constant over the years were the glow stars Nick Bradshaw painstakingly pressed into the ceiling of his young son’s bedroom. 

I remember them so vividly, even now. It was amazing to me how they shone just as bright in his pitch black room at the age of nineteen as they did when Bradley was two and tucked under his dad’s arm as he read him Goodnight, Moon for the hundredth time. 

The night I realized I was in love with Bradley Bradshaw, we were lying beneath his stars. The irony of the whole thing was that I was only there because of a fight with my father. Dad and I didn’t fight often at all, which made those rare arguments peppered into my teenage years explosive. Honestly, I couldn’t remember what the fight was about, only that at some point along the way, Dad had mentioned Mom and the word disappointed and even though I knew he didn’t mean it, that he spoke before he thought, it sent me spiraling. I remember I trudged through the pouring rain down to the other end of the street because I couldn’t even stand to be in the same house as him. 

Carole was waiting on the front porch for me with a big fluffy towel when I finally trudged up the steps. In hindsight, I should’ve realized then and there that I was the luckiest girl in the world—my father was madder at me than he’d been my entire life and yet he called Aunt Carole to make sure I didn’t catch a cold when I got to her house. That’s how much he loved me. 

She helped me into the half bath downstairs, where one of my many changes of pajamas left at the Bradshaw house was waiting. She took my wet clothes and sent me and my fluffy towel upstairs to Bradley’s room. 

I remember trudging up those stairs trying not to cry, because it was the worst thing I could possibly imagine for Bradley to see me crying. But, he was waiting in his doorway, brown hair tousled, clearly having been roused from a restful slumber. He smiled sleepily at me and held out an arm, and I remember how bad the sob that escaped me hurt my chest as I hugged him tight around the middle, and he guided me into his dark room and under his very fancy, very soft duvet. 

We lay there in silence for a long while, his fan spinning, and my watery eyes were focused on the stars over our heads. There had to be hundreds of little neon green dots glowing above our heads—very childish for a nineteen year old, but it was such peace to look up and get lost in the cosmos from the comfort of a familiar bed. 

“We’re analyzing this book in my Lit class.” Bradley spoke quietly, one arm tucked beneath his head and the other hand on his chest. “The Outsiders. Have you ever read it?” 

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah, during my freshman year of high school. What’re you doing reading that in college?” 

“It’s part of the unit. Revisiting books we read at a lower curricular level. It’s really cool to see how different we see books at fourteen compared to now. It’s like a whole new light.” Bradley never explained things to me like I was stupid, and ever since he started college it was nice to hear what I would expect once I graduated. “Anyways, it made me think of a nickname for you.” 

“A nickname?” 

“Yeah!” Bradley laughed out with a nod. “I mean, Little Mav is cute and all but it’s not even you, it’s just a play on your dad’s callsign. You need something special to you.” 

Finally, I tore my eyes away from Goose’s stars and turned my head to look at Bradley. “Okay, what was the nickname?” 

Bradley turned his head to look at me with a smile. “Cherry.” 

“Cherry?” 

“Yeah, like from the book? Cherry Valance?” 

I laughed and nodded, waving my hand. “Yes, Bradley, I know who she is, but why Cherry?” 

“You remind me of her.” Bradley said simply, and I raised a brow at him, though he could barely see it in the darkness. 

“How so?“ 

“Well, Cherry is kind to Ponyboy, even if he does live on the other side of the tracks. And she’s whip-smart, and courageous. Open-minded, too, just like you. It just fits. Plus, you’re sweet, just like cherries.” Bradley explained himself very precisely, and I couldn’t help but smile. 

“I love it. Though, if I’m Cherry, I’ll need a Ponyboy.” I reasoned, and Bradley hummed thoughtfully. 

“I suppose I could be your Ponyboy. If you’ll have me.” He mused after a moment with a cheeky grin, and I nodded quickly, turning my eyes back up to the stars again. 

“I’ll have you always, Bradley Bradshaw.” 

“I know you will. That’s why I love you.” 

I remembered how well we took to those silly nicknames in the few years we had them before Bradley left.

I remember how bad he caused sunsets to hurt after he was gone.

———

As I walked onto the tarmac, sunglasses on my nose, I felt a hand snag my forearm, snatching me from my nostalgia. I was spun around unceremoniously, and Rooster was there, staring down at me over his father’s aviators. 

“Did you know?” He asked quietly, probably to avoid the other pilots from overhearing. He really didn’t need to talk so quietly, because the planes nearly drowned him out. “About your dad being here—did you know??” 

“Yes.” I replied, yanking my arm from his grip. 

“You could’ve warned me.” 

I clenched my jaw. “Warned you? What would you have liked me to say, Bradley?” I adjusted my footing, bringing my hand up to my chest. “Oh hey, so I know you haven’t talked to me in ten years and abandoned me over something my dad did, but just a heads up—he’s our new TOPGUN instructor!” He opened his mouth to speak, but my dad cut him off from behind us. 

“Rooster!” A light switch flicked from within him. I watched as his spine went straight, and he stepped around me, continuing on his path to his F-18, abandoning our conversation entirely, like he did most things lately. “Bradley!” Dad called again, and I scoffed bitterly, headed for my plane all the same. “Lieutenant Bradshaw!” Dad barked eventually, causing Rooster to stop. I watched from the nose of my F-18 as Bradley turned, towering over my father. Angry at him, angry at me, seemingly angry at the world. It felt like a bullet entered my chest as I watched them interact, so very different from the memories of my youth. It felt like a black sludge was slowly creeping over them, infecting the happiness of the past with the reality of now.  I wished things could go back to the way they used to be. I wished Goose didn’t die, that he’d had been there to raise his son, I wish his accident hadn’t scared his wife to death and pressued my father to make a deathbed promise. I wish Uncle Ice hadn’t helped my father pull Bradley’s papers, I wished Bradley would just understand my father only had his best interest in mind. I wished for a lot of things, things that would never come true, things that I couldn’t change but still weighed me down like a ton of bricks all the same.

Suddenly and all at once I shook that pain right out of my body, flapping my arms and hopping from one foot to the other, rolling my shoulders and neck and refocusing, readying myself to do my job. I wasn’t here to reminisce on the past, I was here to do a job and do it better than the men and women around me. I was here to live up to my father’s legacy. If we were going up against Maverick, there was no room in my head for anything other than the strategy and skill I knew I possessed, because I knew he was going to give us a run for our money. 

And sure enough, he did. We dropped like flies, one by one by one. The pilot in me was frustrated, but the little girl in me was amazed. Never did I think I’d get to see my dad fly, witness firsthand why I was the daughter of a living legend who actually lived up to the legend. But up there in that cockpit, I got to watch him become Maverick, picking us off like lemmings led to slaughter. 

First ones down was Rooster, who reaped what Payback and Fanboy sewed as the first victim of their idiotic two hundred pushup bet. 

“That should be us down there.” Payback mused as we watched from the window while Hondo counted off Rooster’s pushups. I nodded. 

“But it’s not. And now you know a little something about Rooster.” I replied, eyes lingering for just a little while longer before I turned and headed off for my time in the sky. 

Next was myself, with Harvard and Yale as my wingmen. Much to my disdain, they’d stopped to take a selfie with Bradley as he did his pushups, which I found to be in poor taste. Dad killed them fairly easily once we got into the sky, but I put up enough of a fight to make him sweat before he finally caught tone. The sun was hot and my arms ached but I had to admit, I was all smiles as we hit the tarmac for our pushups, listening to Hondo taunt the Ivy Leagues about their selfie with Rooster. 

Following them was Hangman, with Phoenix and Bob supporting. As much as I hated to admit it, Lieutenant Jake Seresin was one hell of a pilot. He lasted a lot longer than any of the others, even if he did play dirty and ditch his wingman to get those extra seconds. Watching him do his pushups was just as satisfactory as the previous group. 

Dad killed Omaha, Coyote and Halo after that, and sent Fitz and the Ivy Leagues for another round with Hondo immediately after. 

My final shot against my father left Hangman flying between myself and Bradley, and I kept my eyes ahead as I clicked my mask in place just as Hangman began to run his mouth. “So Rooster, mind if I ask you a personal question?” 

“Would it matter if I did?” 

“What’s the deal with you and Lucky? You two can’t even stand to be in the same room as each other.” I rolled my eyes as he literally talked over me, like I wasn’t even there. 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“Okay. What about you and Maverick? Seems like he’s got you a bit rattled.” Even with his mask on I could hear the smirk in his voice, and Bradley rolled his eyes this time. 

“Still none of your business.” He snapped, looking around. “Now where the hell is he?” 

Dad’s voice cut through comms. “Been here the whole time.” Pushing my jet forward, I watched in disbelief as Dad pulled his jet up to loop on top of Rooster.

Completely inverted on top of Rooster. 

 Jake seemed to be on the same page as me, his eyes wide. “Holy shit.” 

“C’mon,” Dad taunted, and I sighed heavily, slumping back in my seat in annoyance. “Let’s get it over with.” 

“Fight’s on!” Rooster shouted, before pulling a hard right and turning the nose of his jet down. 

“What is with these two??” Jake asked, and I just shook my head, watching as the two most important men in my life went head to head in a downward spiral. If I’d have been able to talk without choking up, I probably would’ve aired our dirty laundry out to Hangman right then and there. 

“Alright, you put us here. How are you gonna get yourself out?” Dad grunted. 

“You can bail out anytime!” Rooster huffed in response. 

“How low you wanna go, Rooster?” 

“I can go as low as you, sir! And that’s saying something!” 

“What’s past is past, for both of us!” 

“You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you?” Rooster snapped out, some bite to his voice, pain in his words.

“Yeah, well the least you can do is leave her out of it!” 

I angrily unclipped my mask at those words, quickly wiping away the tear that slipped down my cheek and turning my head away from Jake so he wouldn’t see. The last thing I needed was the cockiest pilot I’ve ever met seeing me cry in the cockpit, as if I didn’t feel pathetic enough. I wish Ice hadn’t signed that paper to push my father through to Fightertown. 

“Hard deck is five thousand feet, fellas. You are running out of room.” Jake was trying to pull them apart, I’ll give him that, but his words fell on deaf ears as my father and Bradley went spiraling further and further down. 

“Your strategy is about to run us to the ground. What’s your move?” My father asked Bradley, and I gripped the stick tighter in my hand. 

“Pull up.” I muttered under my breath as Jake and I flew side by side, eyes on the active train wreck below us, neither one able to look away. The further they went, the faster my heart slammed into my chest, leaning forward in my seat until I couldn’t take it anymore. “DAMMIT PONYBOY, PULL UP!!” Rooster suddenly yanked the stick and leveled himself out behind but above my father, and the shot couldn’t have been more perfect. 

“C’mon, Rooster, you got him! Drop down and take the shot!” Hangman urged from my right, and I found myself agreeing with him out loud, urging Bradley to pull tone and take Maverick down. 

“It’s too low!” Rooster excused, and my dad declared for everyone to hear that it was too late, he had his chance, before he pulled the stick back and thrust the throttle forward. Hangman and I could only watch as Dad’s jet glided up into a Cobra maneuver, before dropping down and locking tone on Rooster. 

“That’s a kill.” Dad declared breathlessly, and Rooster hung his head with a swear while Hangman shook his head. 

“Same old Rooster.” 

I was the last one to land, having taken my time to get back to base. I really didn’t want to see anyone, especially my father and Rooster, and I was thankful that at least Bradley wasn’t there as I climbed out of my cockpit. Hondo and Dad remained on the tarmac, talking to one another, and I thought I could slip right by them when I caught my dad’s eye.

“Lucky!” Dad called after me, but just like Bradley had before, I walked right by him. I heard him swear behind me before heavy bootsteps were on my tail, and his hand snagged my elbow, just like Bradley had done before. 

Something in me snapped. 

I whirled on my heel and dropped my flight bag, slamming my fists into his chest as hard as I could. With a soft ‘oof’ my dad stumbled back, eyes wide in disbelief as he looked at me, hands raised in defense. “Birdie—” 

“Don’t you Birdie me, are you CRAZY?!” I screamed, the sensation unfamiliar and disgusting in my mouth. I never raised my voice, especially at my father and certainly not on a tarmac in uniform but I just couldn’t take it anymore. The anger between him and Rooster was driving me insane, there was a pit in my stomach that I couldn’t soothe and a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow and it was all their fault, and I shoved my father back again. “You could’ve killed him! You baited him, and for what? To tease him??” 

“To teach him!” 

“Teach him what?? HUH?? What did he learn from that?? What did you accomplish aside from making things worse??” I reached my hand up and Hondo quickly stepped between us, a hand on my shoulder. 

“Lucky—” He tried, but I yelled right over him, pushing against his hand and swiping at my dad again. 

“You need to pony up and admit you did a fucked up thing to him. And yes I know Aunt Carole made you promise before she died and yes I KNOW you’re scared because of what happened to Uncle Goose but Bradley is a big boy now and one of the best pilots in the Navy because if he wasn’t he wouldn’t be here so you need to grow up, step back and let him make his own choices!” The words came out of my mouth like vomit, so fast and so quick that it left me breathless at the end. I slumped slightly against Hondo’s hand, watching my father’s eyes search my face. “You are so stupid for breaking the hard deck. You could have died.” That lump in my throat grew larger, hands shaking as one came to rest on his chest. “You are all I have. Don’t you realize that? I already lost Bradley. Don’t make me lose you too.” 

“I’m sorry.” My father whispered, and I just sighed, all the fight having drained out of me as I stooped down to grab my flight bag. 

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.” From behind us, a familiar, deep voice boomed out. 

“Captain Mitchell!” The three of us turned to find Bates standing by the hangar door, looking less than pleased. “Admiral Sampson would like a word.” 

“I’ll see you at home.” I patted Dad’s back, before walking off, completely missing Lieutenant Jake Seresin standing by his F-18, a smirk on his face. Likely because he had just witnessed the entire thing. 

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#this was so dramatic and for what #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #top gun #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw/reader #bradley rooster bradshaw/reader #jake hangman seresin #rooster top gun #rooster/reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #maverick top gun #hangman top gun #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #natasha phoenix trace #reuben payback fitch #javy coyote machado #phoenix top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader