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lieutenantfloyd · 1 month

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Top Gun: Maverick Fic Recs

Hey y'all! Here are 21 of my favorite TGM fanfics of all genres and ships, listed in no particular order.

Some of these fics are 18+ so read at your own risk. None of these works are mine and all credit goes to the amazing authors! <3

X READER

Safe Zone by @sunlightmurdock — (Series // Rooster and Hangman x reader)

A team of elite naval aviators holding down the fort at the North Island Air Base while they wait for reinforcements after a virus sweeps the continental U.S. - only, it’s been three months and no one has shown up.

Hold My Hand by @labyrinth-runner — (Series // Cyclone x Reader)

Jag! Reader is assigned to defend a pilot, finding the job to be more complicated than she thought.

Rooster’s Flight or a Manual for the Marooned by DontLetThemTakeYouAlive (Series // Rooster x Reader/OC)

"Rooster's Flight: A Manual for the Marooned" follows Madeline, a pastry chef escaping scandal in Amsterdam, and Bradley, a lost naval aviator stationed in Japan. Fate brings them to sunny San Diego, where their friendship blossoms amid career challenges and a clashing of characters. Madeline's culinary journey intertwines with Bradley's self-discovery, navigating love and loss.

Resilience, self-discovery, and the unpredictable paths of career and matters of the heart shape their narrative in this tale of second chances and unlikely connections.

Fine Piece by @dragon-kazansky (Series // Cyclone x Reader)

You have it bad for Vice Admiral Simpson. But to prove you’re fit for the job; you need to put that aside and focus on the flying.

Someone Special by @fanboygarcia (Oneshot // Cyclone x Reader)

What happens when the Dagger Squad catches on to the fact that known grump turned lovesick fool Admiral Simpson has someone special in his life?

Invisible String by @halfway-happyyy (Oneshot // Rooster x Reader)

the one where rooster’s about to leave on a mission he doesn’t know if he’ll be back from, and he wants you in every way imaginable. as always, soft feelings ensue!

Do you wanna make somethin’ of it by @theharddeck (Oneshot // Rooster x Reader)

turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

@bullet-prooflove's entire TGM masterlist

Everything she writes is outstanding, but the Beau x Ally fics (The First Time Series, The General Series, Deployment!Series, and Syria!Series) are something I think about literally everyday.

i don’t know, blame the air force? by @gretagerwigsmuse (Oneshot // Rooster x Reader)

in which lieutenant commander bradshaw feels his girlfriend’s wrath after she gets her year end bonus and uncle sam takes a pretty penny out of it

There Are Rules by @tongue-like-a-razor (Series // Maverick x Reader)

Your risky flying seriously pisses off your instructor at Top Gun and you're about to find out why.

Through the Hourglass by @bratshaws (Series // Rooster x OC)

Rooster x Plus Size OC!

Happy Birthday, Mr. President by @rhettabbotts (Oneshot // Bob x Reader)

after a hard week, the last thing bob wanted to do was attend his birthday party. so instead, he plays out one of his biggest fantasies with you.

Whoever's in Lemoore by @cherrycola27 (Oneshot // Bob x Reader)

A fic based on the Reba McEntire song "Whoever's in New England"

Angels Don't Always Have Wings by @bradshawssugarbaby (Series // Rooster x Reader)

a series of oneshots revolving around baseball player!Bradley Bradshaw x reader (nicknamed Angel)

Do I? by @bradshawssugarbaby (Oneshot // Cyclone x Reader)

Inspired by Do I? by Luke Bryan. (this fic was so good I had to go take a walk after reading it for the first time)

Road to Perdition by @sailor-aviator (Series // Hangman x Reader)

The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

His Best Friend's Wedding by @ereardon (Series // Rooster x Reader)

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw has been your best friend for a decade. He’s also your fiancé’s best man. So when he shows up at your hotel room the night before your wedding, it’s just because he’s your friend, right?

OTHER SHIPS

Mistaken Identity by @ladylanera — (TGM x Mission: Impossible crossover)

What should be a joyous homecoming quickly unravels after it's discovered a nefarious, unknown group has put a hit out on Captain Mitchell, mistaking the Navy captain for being a covert IMF operative by the name of Ethan Hunt who has an uncanny likeness to the captain for some reason. Enter a twisty web of lies that threaten the very existence of the family as we know it.

**Fic contains spoilers for Mission: Impossible Dead Reckoning Part One**

Flower Power by ReformedTsundere — (Icemav)

Flowers, Pete reminds himself, slamming the last of the books closed, are the worst.

New Chat Created: North Island Daggers by Comin2U — (gen fic)

Harvard: why Whatsapp and not just a basic text message? Hangman: because one of us has an android and ruins the ability to message with just internet. Coyote: Screw you too hangman. ________________________________ In which 12 daggers, the best of the best of naval aviators, are all a bunch of kids and thrown in a group chat.

come fly with me (let's fly, let's fly away) by GatheringBlue — (TGM x 9-1-1 Crossover)

It's a common misconception that Buck trained to be a Navy SEAL. For as long as he could remember, flying had been his dream. Most little kids wanted to be a firefighter or an astronaut, but Buck had always wanted to be a pilot. He wanted to fly far, far away from home, where his parents’ comments that might as well have been slaps for how badly they stung couldn’t get to him. Flying was his way out. His escape. If he was thousands of feet up in the sky, way up with the clouds, then his parents couldn’t touch him. No one could. When Buck got pulled from the reserves just after the lawsuit, it seemed like perfect timing. There was nothing left for him in LA. Not anymore. So, it looked like Buck was heading back to Top Gun.

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year

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The Admirals Strike Back - Cyclone

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

Word Count: 2.1 k

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

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

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

Master List

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

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

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

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

“Hi, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

“After you finish eating your vegetables, Mags.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maverick?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

“Who do you think she’s here for?”

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

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

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

“No, that’s Maverick’s daughter.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re back!”

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

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

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

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

“When?” Cyclone asked, instantly concerned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They get it from her.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell #beau cyclone simpson #beau simpson #cyclone #beau cyclone simpson x reader #beau cyclone simpson x you #cyclone top gun #cyclone x reader #cyclone x you #beau simpson x reader #beau simpson x you

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Touch starved pilots of your choice cuddling their s/o headcanons

characters written: pete 'maverick' mitchell, nick 'goose' bradshaw, tom 'iceman' kazansky, ron 'slider' kerner, leonard 'wolfman' wolfe, rick 'hollywood' neven, beau 'cyclone' simpson, bradley 'rooster' bradshaw, jake 'hangman' seresin, natasha 'phoenix' trace, robert 'bob' floyd, javy 'coyote' machado, mickey 'fanboy' garcia, reuben 'payback' fitch

sfw, but cut for length. enjoy!

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell:

depends on what age you're thinking!

if it's young!mav, he's probably just a liiiitle reluctant to let himself relax sometimes

he's sort of got his tough guy persona, and he's not used to dropping it, so when you get him alone he tries messing around at first

whether that's a few too many kisses, or a pinch to your side, he guards himself a bit before letting himself go

but when he does, oh, he's like a little kitten !

he lets you run your hands through his gelled hair (gross)

and it gets all misshapen and spiky

he probably just melts when you pet his hair like that, and he'll be snoozing on your chest in no time

now older!mav is definitely less of a tough nut to crack

he probably initiates the cuddling in the first place, he nudges you over to the bed and lays himself on top of you to crush you

you can push at his chest and splutter all you want, but he's made his choice on where he's going to lay, and it's on you

he likes holding you, but he wants to be face-to-face, so you can brush noses and bump foreheads

he probably tries sooo hard to stay awake so that he can soak in the time you're spending together but peepaw definitely crashes like 10 minutes in

Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw:

he also likes to be face to face!

buuut not for the same sweet reason as mav

he just wants to itch you with his mustache

he likes nipping at you too, he bites your nose to make you laugh

you won't be getting any sleep when you cuddle with goose, he just wants to talk and laugh and hold you the entire time

it's not a period of time to wind down, it's a big laugh-fest

and god FORBID you try to get up to pee

“Nick, I have to go.” / “Sorry, honey. I can’t let go. I think my hand’s stuck.” / “NICK!!”

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky

he’s another one who probably has just a bit of trouble letting his guard down

he’ll cuddle with you no doubt, but he’ll probably always keep you in his lap or have some sort of upper hand in the embrace

it takes a while before he’s ready to be held himself

when he does finally give in it's so soft and sweet :')

he's had a really hard day and he comes home with his eyes drooping

you've planned a movie night but he doesn't even look like he could sit through an episode of a tv show

so you lead him to bed instead, and tell him you're sleepy, cause he won't 'ruin' the night by admitting that he is

you ask to play with his hair and he lets you, but he's not sure why 'cause you just said you were tired??

you basically have to trick him into being held but once his head is on your chest and your hands are in his hair he's gone.

he ends up mumbling something all sleepy and groggy like 'mm, that's nice' and his eyes are half shut and he's so endearingly tired :')

he wants you to do it all the time now, I'd say it's about 50/50 whether you fall asleep holding him or he falls asleep holding you

Ron 'Slider' Kerner:

slider's a big boy!!!!!!!

he's big and tall and muscly, the perfect cuddle buddy

he's probably more inclined to hold than be held

but he likes it when you face him so you can wrap your arms around his back :')

he probably likes it when he's able to bury his face in your neck/shoulder/against the top of your head

like he always wants his face snuggled in somewhere warm and nice smelling

and it just so happens his chest is an excellent place to get lost yourself

so you most of the time just nuzzle right into each other and get to snoozin'

i think he'd talk real soft, too, he'd murmur against your ear while you're drifting off, probably boring you to sleep with technical details of his flights but just before you crash for the night he slips in a little 'i love you, honey' and <33333

Leonard 'Wolfman' Wolfe:

he's a loser for his partner it has to be said

almost as teasing as nick is but not quite

he'll let you fall asleep he just wants to talk to you AllTheTime because he LovesYouSoMuch

he's a chatterbox and you'll be lucky if you get to sleep at a decent hour

he really likes it when you lay your head on his chest

'cause he likes playing with your hair and your face :]

sometimes he'll just use you as a little stress toy and squeeze your cheeks and pinch your nose and poke at your forehead

always making silly little jokes and telling you all about his day

down to, like, every comment one of his friends made...

'and then slider said he was gonna kill him but hollywood ran, so then they were just chasing each other around and iceman said-' / 'babe.. can we sleep? please?' / 'oh! right, sorry baby.'

Rick 'Hollywood' Neven

listen there's a reason he and wolfman get along so well

they're BOTH teases!!!

cuddling with hollywood is not really relaxing, because he's always pinching your sides or putting his nasty cold feet all over you, or pretending to knock you out by fake-punching you a bunch

you're just laying there and he's 'punching' your stomach, making fake punch sounds with his mouth, and if you push him away he'll pretend you've absolutely knocked him out, tumbling down onto the mattress with this dramatic thump and closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out of his mouth like he's a dead cartoon character 😭

he's like a dog you have to get his energy out before trying to rest with him or he just Won't Rest

when you DO get him sleepy, though, he's kinda incoherent when he's tired, so you'll be cuddled up together, maybe you're scratching his back, maybe he's playing with your hair, and he's just sort of mumbling nonsense until he finally drifts off to sleep

Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson:

will not be held

sorry! not happening

he's just so big and beefy and authoritative that he doesn't much enjoy being coddled

he loves cuddling with you though, he gets very relaxed just laying with you

he's a casual toucher, i think, so you can rest your head on his shoulder at the airport, you can hold his hand at restaurants, whether that be over or under the table, he lets you hang all over him however you want

he's not super into in-your-face PDA, though, so you'll have to be polite and considerate about it

actually in bed though, under the blankets at night?

he's so much more cuddly than you'd expect

he wraps his big strong arms around you and tugs you close and lets you melt all over him <33

your favorite place to lay your head is probably his chest 'cause it's so broad and firm and nice <3

he's a good back rubber so cuddles are always soft and cozy and sleepy

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw:

lord he's a cuddler

he's just a touchy guy, because he's probably gone without it for a significant amount of time so now that he's got you he's gonna enjoy it

big big big on pda, doesn't really care who sees

so that means cuddling in public, too

perfectly content to sit by the beach with you in his lap all cuddled back into his chest he doesn't care if anyone teases him

but back in bed he's a sucker for head scratches

if you have long-ish nails, enough to scratch at his scalp, he'll literally melt over you like an ice cream cone

his limbs go all gooey and he flops his head down on your chest, groaning and grunting while you scratch through his hair

he really enjoys sleeping on top of you, whether that be fully chest-to-chest 'you're suffocating me' cuddling or just an arm thrown over your stomach while he lays on his own

he likes being held, too, but probably prefers to hold unless he's having a hard day

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin:

big boy!! surprisingly fond of being held for everything we know about him

that cocky demeanor does not last under the sheets

he adores holding you, of course, he'll wrap his big arms around you and cradle your head to his chest

he probably plays with your hair, looooves it when you tangle your legs up with his own

he prefers if you talk to him rather than him talk to you if you're cuddling

cause he likes the sound of your voice and he loves hearing about your day

he tries to listen so attentively to what you're saying, but if you're taking a little too long telling him about that batty old customer that had visited the shop you work at today, his eyes are going to slowly start to droop and he's gonna let out a big ol yawn that means it's time for him to close his eyes

you always cut yourself off like 'sorry, jake. g'head, go to sleep'

and he insists you continue like 'nooo darlin' i wanna hear! keep going :]' except within two minutes he's dozing against the pillow while you talk about the old lady again

he's a simple man just talk soft and slow to him while snuggled up in his arms and he's gonna sleep no matter what you're telling him

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace:

she really likes laying face-to-face with you!!

she's a fan of spooning, of course, she likes either burying her face in your back or letting you snuggle into hers

but she loves the intimacy that comes from being pretty much nose-to-nose with you

the type to lay there and chat with you mere inches away so that you're leaning in to kiss her all giggly and bashful every four seconds

she uses your cuddle time to tell you all about her teammates, what stupid shit jake said today, how bob almost tripped down the stairs, that fanboy's got a new girlfriend who wants to meet you, etc etc etc

but that means when you see them next you know all of the hot gossip about everyone and you giggle every time jake says something dumb and he's like WHAT.. WHAT IS IT.. WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME.. and you give nat this little ;) 'cause you'll definitely be talking shit about him later

she does this thing where she cradles the back of your head in her hand if you're face to face and she throws her leg over your waist and it gives you such intense butterflies that you need to close your eyes sometimes <3333

Robert 'Bob' Floyd:

cuddlebug <3

he loooves cuddling but if you do it face-to-face he's gonna need to be super close to you because he can't see without his glasses 😭

i'm taking like nose-to-nose so close that you have to cross your eyes to see him

otherwise he's pretty chill in what positions he likes

you love it when he reads to you

i think he might not be the most confident reader out loud but he does it anyways 'cause it puts you to sleep

he gets really sleepy really easily so sometimes it's best to refrain from cuddling in public

like you're out on the beach by a firepit and you're all snuggled up together but oops he can't enjoy his smores because he's sleeping on your shoulder

he loves it when you lay your head on his shoulder sm :'))

he wraps his arm around you and tugs you closer <3

Javy 'Coyote' Machado:

prefers holding to being held

probably a little less talkative than the rest, but that doesn't mean you never chat

he just has this insane ability to fall asleep anywhere, i'm talking slumped against the bus window, leaning against the wall, sitting on the ground, piloting his aircraft sorry

he likes staring at you, though, while he falls asleep :')

if you're talking to him he'll listen and nod and hum along and agree when he should, he's a very good listener

but slowly he'll start to fade a bit, and he'll sling his hand over your waist, smush his face into the pillow, and keep listening for as long as he can

slooooowly you start getting less responses from him, he's not reacting as much, but his eyes are always locked onto your face and he's got this lazy little smile on his face while he drifts off to sleep 'cause he gets to look at you the whole time :')

loverboy!!

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia:

the most talkative in the whole wide world

cuddling with him is barely even cuddling, it's watching him act out his entire day

'and then payback went like this and- BAM! shot it down.'

and he's up on his knees in the middle of the bed with his arms out demonstrating exactly how they'd worked through their training exercises that day

and he is loud and energetic and you're half-asleep like 'that sounds awesome, babe.'

he isn't one to stay in one place really, he likes tossing and turning a bit before he falls asleep which means that you are also going to be tossed and turned

he's a really shifty sleeper too so you'll wake up with your face in his armpit

if you're really sleepy though, he'll settle down, he'll pull you into his chest and let you fall asleep there

but he'll probably be on his phone for a bit, he strikes me as a crazy night owl

Reuben 'Payback' Fitch:

out in two seconds

there is no conscious cuddling with him

why?

because the second his head hits the pillow he's snoring

you can cuddle up to him but if he's cuddling up to you he's doing it in his sleep

you're actually so jealous of him bc you lay down for the night and he tucks his chin over your head or he snuggles his face into your neck and that's it.

he's out.

he's a clingy sleeper, though, so if you wanna read for a bit or use your phone it might be kind of hard

honestly it really helps your sleep schedule to sleep with him 'cause sometimes he's entirely wrapped around you and you can't move

so there's nothing to do but sleep yourself

he's like a living furnace i KNOW that man runs hot

you probably wake up sweating a bunch if you're all snuggly with him

blanket stealer. he somehow manages to tear them off of the end of the bed where they're tucked in and cocoon himself

and then you wake up freezing cold

when i said he snores i mean it he snores loud

it's sort of comforting eventually? like at first it drives u insane

but over time you come to rely on it as white noise and you can't sleep unless he's all over you snoring right in your ear and drooling on your shoulder

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ficsilike-reblogged · 11 months

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Hungry For Heaven

Summary: Beau knows he shouldn’t have feelings for his young, pretty secretary. But he can’t help it. Pairing: Beau “Cyclone” Simpson/F!Reader (No Y/N) Word Count: 4.6k ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED A/N: This is my second entry for the 80’s Rocktober Challenge hosted by @roosterforme - I picked Dio’s song “Hungry For Heaven.” I hope you enjoy! Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, Cain is a creep for plot reasons, my gratuitous use of italics and song lyrics, a coyote ugly reference, female receiving oral sex, power imbalance

His girl. Cyclone’s girl. Simpson’s girl. The Admiral’s girl. That’s how most people referred to you when speaking with Beau. And he had never admitted how much he liked it, instead telling people to at least acknowledge your rank. But in the dark of his rooms, in the recesses of his mind, Beau liked it. He liked that you were his.

Sort of.

Beau knew it was cliche. Falling for his young, pretty secretary was probably the most cliche thing that he could have ever done. But it hadn’t been a choice, really. You had appeared one day, three years ago, like a whirlwind and Beau had been left in your wake. You kept a tight ship, just as he did. You had been a perfect match for him, keeping him organized and on time for all his meetings and classes. You had made the mountains of paperwork he was always saddled with much easier to swallow and he had thought he was dreaming when you’d first handed over a thick stack of papers and told him he just needed to sign at the bottom of the last page. You’d basically done a week of reports for him and had left Beau with a pen in his hand and a tight stomach as you sauntered back out of his office. But that was what you did, he learned. You made his life easier. Gave him time to breathe. You were his girl.

It was more than a little embarrassing to realize his…affection for you was noticed by anyone. Thankfully, the only person he knew for a fact suspected anything was Admiral Bates, who had quietly told him that it was about time he was happy. Embarrassing. It was a kindness, true, but Beau would have preferred if he hadn’t said anything at all. These feelings were inappropriate and completely against Naval regulation and protocol and he couldn’t stop.

“You’re not staying much later, are you?”

Beau looked up from his computer, reading yet another request from Maverick about his insane dog fight simulations he wanted the newest Top Gun class to try, to see you in the doorway of his office. The usual, soft smile was on your face—the smile he liked to think you reserved just for him. His mouth curled up at the edges too; he couldn’t help it. “Just trying to rein in Maverick.”

You scoffed and shook your head but your smile remained. “You’re going to be here all night, then. Again.”

Beau had to hide his laugh behind his hand. You knew him too well. “I won’t.”

You hummed, obviously not believing him. “I’ll order you dinner. Do you want Chinese or Italian? You had barbecue two nights ago.”

His heart twisted, like it usually did whenever you so easily showed how well you knew him. “Italian, if you could, Lieutenant. With-”

“With extra breadsticks, I know. I’ll make sure they don’t forget again.”

You were gone from the doorway before he could thank you but you returned not thirty minutes later with his promised dinner and another smile. A cursory glance let him know that the extra breadsticks were indeed included this time and you set a silverware roll from the mess hall beside the bag.

“You’re too good to me, Lieutenant.” Beau winced as soon as the words left his mouth but you simply smiled. “And I thought you were on your way out for the weekend?”

Your smile widened. “I am. But I wasn’t about to leave you hungry.”

Beau’s entire chest ached and he tried to smile again but he was sure it looked more like a grimace. “Big plans?”

“My friend’s bachelorette party. We are going bar hopping after getting pole dance lessons.” You paused before a grimace crumpled your features. “You didn’t need to know that. I apologize. That was unprofessional.”

Beau felt his throat bob, mouth suddenly dry. Seeing you in your khakis or in any of the other Naval uniforms had been all Beau had been given, aside from when you needed to grab something from your office over the weekend a few months ago and he got to see you in a sinful pair of shorts and low cut top. But imagining you in one of those tight, tiny dresses he knew women your age wore and learning how to dance like that had his stomach in knots.

He was being unprofessional. He was supposed to be the one who approved or rejected paperwork for relationships like this. He wasn’t supposed to be wanting one. And he wasn’t even sure if you saw him as anything other than the old man who needed help keeping his meetings and paperwork in a row.

Sure, you joked with him, nursed a glass of expensive bourbon with him after the Uranium Mission, and Beau liked to think he caught you appreciating the view when he partook in the swim call during your last shared deployment and you handed him a towel to dry off…but that did not mean anything in the grand scheme of things.

He knew that.

But he couldn’t get you out of his head.

“I hope you have a good time. You’ve certainly earned it. I know I run you ragged here.”

The hard line of your shoulders lessened and your smile returned as you shook your head. Your hand settled over his and you gently squeezed his fingers, touch not retreating immediately and Beau tried not to revel in it too much. “I love working for you. You have to know that by now.” Beau watched your mouth open again before you bit your lip.

Beau could imagine a million different things you could have said after that. But you didn’t say any of them. You didn’t say anything at all aside from a soft, “anyway, have a good night, Admiral. Please don’t stay too late.”

And then you were gone, leaving Beau alone with the scent of your floral perfume, the echo of your warm hand on his, and an ache in his chest.

It was fine.

This was fine.

He ate his dinner as he tried to find the least insane simulation Maverick had requested and hoped that it would end well next week. Honestly, having the Captain as the permanent Top Gun instructor was bad for his heart.

“Are you coming?”

Beau looked up from his paperwork to see Admiral Cain in his doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Oh, that was right. Cain had been invited to see the current Top Gun class in action. The higher ups thought it would be a way to “soften” Cain’s animosity toward manned aircrafts. It was ridiculous because Beau outranked Cain and he still walked around like his shit didn’t stink.

Mostly what it did was raise Beau’s blood pressure and had you running circles around base trying to keep Cain out of Beau’s office. It was a valiant effort, Beau knew, but Cain hardly ever followed any recommendation from someone who he deemed ‘beneath him.’

He glanced down at the calendar on his desk and saw your neat handwriting over today’s date. Drinks with Cain? :(

Dammit.

“Yeah, let me just clean up and-”

“I’ll give you fifteen minutes.” And then he was gone, too.

Biting back every swear he’d ever learned, Beau stood and cleared his desk of his dinner’s trash and filed everything away to deal with on Monday. He pulled on a different shirt and slacks he kept in his office’s closet for times like this and tried not to seem too unenthusiastic when he met Cain out in the parking lot. The effort was completely negated when the other man started bragging about the bar he wanted to try, touting that it was apparently popular with younger women who preferred older men.

And while Beau did think of you for a moment, his stomach still rolled with the thought that Cain was on the prowl for someone younger when Beau knew that he had a wife and kids waiting at home for him. But still, he went, knowing the higher ups would frown at him not wanting to “play nice.”

(Beau pocketed the thought that he could have Cain dishonorably discharged if he actually did something.)

The drive to the bar was thankfully short and Beau had repeatedly told himself that it would be fine to leave after one overpriced drink before parking. He could hear the classic rock pouring from the stout brick building and he could still hear the waves crashing against the shore as he stepped up toward the front door. The bouncer at the front waved him in and Beau saw Cain already striding up toward the bar, turning his head to watch as a woman, carrying a tray of shots to a different table, walked by.

Cain settled at the bar and Beau begrudgingly stood near him and waited for one of the three bartenders to take their order. When they were noticed, Cain was more than a little shameless with staring down the bartender’s shirt when she came to their corner of the bar top so Beau made a mental note to give her an extra tip with his drink as a silent apology.

“What can I get started for you?” She asked, turning to Beau with a roll of her eyes. She’d apparently already had a long night.

“Cognac, please.”

The bartender quirked an eyebrow but almost smiled. “You seem like a top shelf kind of guy. Am I right?”

Beau nodded and watched her grab a bottle of cognac he also had in his personal bar back home (where he’d rather be, but that was beside the point) and poured a few fingers of it into a glass before setting it atop a monogrammed napkin and pushing it in front of him. He handed over his card without a fuss and she seemed grateful when he didn’t ask to open a tab.

Beau vacated his spot at the bar after leaving his promised tip and it was quickly taken by a woman who had to be about your age with a sash across her chest that read “Made of DisHonor” in bold, pink lettering. It was funny—there must be a bachelorette party here somewhere.

Again, he thought of you—you had said your friend’s bachelorette party was tonight.

As Beau settled into an overstuffed booth near one of the stained glass windows, he saw Cain still at the bar, now turned around to lean against it as he sipped on his martini. His gaze was bouncing from one woman to the next while completely ignoring the other men who would have probably preferred his spot at the bar to order. But it hardly mattered, really. Beau would have been content with finishing his drink by himself and not interacting with Cain at all. But Cain did eventually did spot him and Beau raised his glass in half hearted welcome but hoped that it would not be taken.

Cain didn’t pick up on the abject disinterest on Beau’s face and started to make his way over. Dammit. However, he made it only a half dozen steps before getting pulled to a stop by a woman in a tight dress and a bright smile.

Damn. All right. Apparently the reputation this bar had was not completely unfounded.

Beau was quick to drag his gaze away from the uncomfortable scene and spotted the girl with the sash walking away from the bar with a tray of what looked like Jell-O shots in her hands. Beau watched her go with a smile, remembering his days back in college when his tongue was blue from drinks like those. She quickly passed out the small plastic cups and the grip Beau had on his cognac nearly slipped when he recognized one of the women in her group.

You.

God. You had always been beautiful but right now you were truly something else. Sinful and ethereal all at once. Stunning. Short dress. High heels. Burgundy lips. You were dressed for the festivities. Your sash read “Miss Behaving.”

Of course it did.

The bride, a cute woman in a tiny white dress with a giant white bow on the back of her head, herded everyone a little bit out of the throughway so a small group of men could get to the bar without needing to walk around. And you ended up closer to him. He could hear your laugh over the music as your friend pushed one of the Jell-O shots into your hand.

“I’m driving tonight! I can only have one drink.”

The woman with the Made of Dishonor sash pouted but still made sure your fingers were curled around the tiny plastic cup. “You said that at the last two bars, too. That’s why I got you a non-alcoholic Jell-O shot. Congrats. That is pure sugar and water, babe.”

You laughed and Beau found himself smiling at the sound of it; he liked hearing you be happy. And he should have known that you would be the designated driver for your friends—you were always taking care of someone. (Usually it was him.)

He watched you and your friends take the caps off the shots and clink them together with a shout of cheers for the bride as he took another sip of his own drink. It nearly came right back out as he coughed, watching your tongue skirt around the plastic.

“There we go!” The bride cheered before patting your cheek with uncoordinated fingers but you laughed anyway. “I want you to have fun. Have fun with me.”

“I am having fun! I promise,” you said before catching her hand and kissing her fingers, earning a giggle of your own. “And tonight isn’t about me!”

“I picked this bar for you!” The maid of honor said with a laugh of her own. “I was hoping I would be able to get your mind off that man who shall not be named.” “No, you chose it because they let you dance on the bar.” “That’s besides the point,” she retorted, finger pointed in your direction. “Two birds, one stone or whatever.”

“What?” The bride asked, dragging out the single syllable.

The maid of honor shook her head. “Babe, it has been over a year and you’re still hung up on him. You either need to get under him or get over him.”

You swirled your finger around the empty, plastic container, pretending to care about the remnants of your Jell-O shot. “I can’t help it.”

“What’s so special about him?” Another woman asked, stealing a second shot. “A year’s a long time.”

“Oh no,” one of your friends groaned. “Don’t get her started.”

The bride pouted again. “But I wanna hear it. I don’t hear anything anymore! I don’t even know who we’re talking about!”

“I’ve told you about him twice but that just…doesn’t matter,” you said, probably noting how intoxicated she was at the moment. “You’re busy with wedding planning, sweetheart. We don’t want to bother you.”

She waved it away, pout persisting. “Tell me. Tell me right now! I’m your best…” she hiccuped. “Best friend. Tell me.”

You licked your lips before sighing. “He’s…my boss.”

There was an answering squeal from the bride and a few others in your group before you waved it away with a halfhearted scowl, like you were trying to keep the smile from your face.

The grip on his drink was near painful now.

You were talking about him. You had been hung up on him for over a year.

“He’s just handsome and kind and funny. He’s nice when he wants to be and he’s always nice to me.”

“But not to everyone else, right?” The maid of honor said, sounding like she’d heard this before.

Beau adjusted his posture to try to hear your group better over the blaring guitars and thumping drums. He wanted to know what you had been saying—apparently repeatedly.

“Yeah. I mean, he runs a tight ship-”

“That is a terrible pun.”

“-but he tries to keep everyone safe and he just expects everyone else to do the same. So-”

“You’re burying the lede here. He’s smoking hot. A complete silver fox who’s got a banging bod.”

You gaped at the Maid of Honor’s outburst and Beau watched your mouth open and close a few more times without a single word coming out. Is that what you had told your friends?

“And he’s sweet to you?” The bride repeated, hazy eyes sparkling. “You hafta marry him.”

“They’re a sight for sore eyes. Good choice.”

Beau felt something in his neck pop when he quickly turned his head to see Cain settling opposite him in the booth. The other man’s eyes were dragging all over your group without a care in the world. Dragging all over you. “Did you strike out?” The words were out of his mouth before he could even begin to think of a different response. “I saw you talking to someone else.” It was a pitiful recovery but Beau hid his distaste for the entire situation behind another gulp of his liquor.

Cain’s mouth curled into a scowl for a moment. “You’ve been sitting here alone all night. You’re not doing any better.” A familiar sneer pushed at his features before he once again looked at your group. “Are you one of those that just likes to look?”

Thankfully or not, Cain didn’t wait for an answer and stood again, making his way over to your group. Just for a moment, Beau thought about just leaving. Just getting up and leaving and pretending this entire night never happened.

“A-Admiral Cain.”

Your voice cut through Beau’s thoughts with ease.

“I…I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Cain squinted at you, probably trying to place your face and Beau saw the exact moment Cain recognized you, a smirk pushing at his mouth. A few of your friends started whispering into each other’s ears, probably wondering if this was the Admiral you were hung up on. “Ah, Lieutenant, I should have known it was you.”

“Oh?”

Cain’s smirk grew. “Yes ma’am. I think I’d recognize that-”

Beau had heard quite enough and stood abruptly, cognac still in his hand. “I think we’ve had enough tonight, Admiral. Time to head out.”

The shock on your face only grew more apparent as you looked at him. “Admiral Simpson. Um…h-hi.”

“That’s him,” the maid of honor hissed into the bride’s ear.

Cain’s eyes were hard as they bored into the side of Beau’s face. He could feel them. But he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were even more beautiful up close. Dammit. Again.

“Why don’t we let the ladies decide if I’ve had enough?”

Your eyes went wide and you took a step in front of your friends, hands fanning out to keep them behind you. “I apologize, sir, but I don’t think that is entirely appropriate.”

“It could be our little secret and shouldn’t I be the one who says whether or not something is inappropriate? I’m sure we can all keep a secret.”

Something Beau had spent years trying to suppress started to bite at the back of his mind. Cold rage. He moved to step in front of Cain, blocking you from the other man’s gaze. “We’re done here, Cain.”

The tense line of his shoulders relaxed when he felt your warm hand press against his back. A quiet thank you. And the simple touch had warmth bleeding over him.

“We are just about to leave-”

“Bride and babes!” The bartender who had served Beau hollered. “You’re up!”

The maid of honor let out a curse and muttered something about never planning anything ever again before pushing everyone toward the bar again. And then Cain was saying something, Beau could hear the rumble of his voice at the back of his mind like a buzzing fly, but Beau couldn’t take his eyes off you.

You as you tugged down your skirt after it had ridden up when you climbed.

You as you helped the bride step onto one of the barstools.

You as you followed suit until you and the rest of your friends were lined up on the bar.

“Ladies and gents,” the bartender’s voice cut through the din of the bar just before the last song ended. “We have a special group here tonight. And they want to put on a little show for you all.”

The crowd gave a raucous cheer and then the opening chords of a song he knew well swelled over the bar’s speakers. And then you (and your friends) started to dance. It was filled with spins and giggles followed by twists and turns that had your legs nearly glowing in the low light of the bar as Dio continued to sing.

You're in danger, the last of a line

But the vision lasts forever…

The watching crowd hollered when you and the maid of honor showed off the moves you must have learned at your pole dancing lessons on either side of the bride. Beau couldn’t take his eyes off you. Wouldn’t.

“I see it now.” Cain’s voice pulled his attention for just a moment. “You want her all to yourself.”

He didn’t deign it worthy of a response. And honestly, what could he say? Denying it would be fruitless and accepting it would be handing over power to Cain. So, Beau said nothing.

The young just getting older

We are sunlight

We can sparkle and shine

And our dreams are what we're made of… He just watched you.

He dragged his eyes up your form and saw you looking straight at him.

Just hold on You can make it happen for you Reach for the stars and you will fly You're hungry for heaven Hungry for heaven Hungry for heaven But you need a little hell, oh, hungry…

And, just for a moment, Beau felt like you were doing this all for him. This entire show was for him. That little dress and the way you inched it up your thighs as you moved was for him. The burgundy-tinged smile was just for him. The way your half-lidded gaze never strayed far from him in the crowd was for him. And maybe it was. Maybe it was all for him because as soon as the song ended and you helped your giggling friends off the bar—taking extra care to help the bride down as she poked at the tip of your nose—you turned to him. While your friends were swarmed by other patrons of the bar who had appreciated the show, you only looked at him. And then you were moving, pushing your way through the accumulated crowd and toward him. You licked your lips just before you slowed to a stop in front of him and Beau tracked the movement with his heart hammering in his throat. “Did you enjoy the show?” And what was he supposed to say to that? He had the wherewithal to notice Cain had retreated to a darkened corner with another drink and a different woman, his attention completely diverted. Beau paused for a moment before nodding. What good would lying do now? Something had shifted, irreparably changed. For better or worse.

He could smell your perfume again as you moved closer, closer, closer. God, you were beautiful. And a voice that sounded almost like himself was screaming at the back of his mind that this was wrong, this was against all sorts of Naval regulations, that this would only end poorly- But it quieted as soon as your fingers pressed against his chest. He could feel each of your breaths against his mouth. He could smell your floral perfume with each of his own inhales and wanted to bury his nose in it. In you. But what Beau happily noticed was the lack of alcohol that hit his nose. You were sober.

He knew adrenaline could make people do things that were out of character. Plenty of pilots, himself included, had landed their jet and jumped out, heart hammering and nerves buzzing. Maybe it was that for you, high off the little performance. Confident enough to approach your direct superior in a crowd. You sought him out. There was a silent conversation between you; were you going to do this? Could either of you stop? And Beau surged forward with his inevitable answer, closing the gap.

You tasted like heaven. Sticky sweet with a bite of something else and your hand gently curled over his chest as you sighed against his mouth. Your fingers inched up to press at the side of his neck as he licked between your lips.

Every sigh, every little noise, every brush of your mouth against his had his heart racing. This was what he needed, what every part of him had wanted since you had first spent the night at his side, helping him do monotonous paperwork. Just you, in his arms, and your taste on his tongue.

He didn’t even recall pulling you toward the small hallway that led to the bathrooms but he felt your smile against his mouth when he backed you against the wall. Your next breath puffed against his wet lips and your eyes still sparkled in the hallway’s shitty light. “We might have fifteen minutes before someone comes looking.” “I can do a lot in fifteen minutes.”

The bathroom door creaked when he pulled you through it and the lock gave an answering click when he engaged it. You were soft everywhere and Beau groaned against your mouth as his hands skirted up your thighs, dragging the minuscule skirt of your dress with it. And you were sweet everywhere, too, as he tugged the tiny scrap of lace between your thighs to the side and drank you down. Your hands curled into his hair as he pulled one of your legs up and over his shoulder. He kept you upright as each flick of his tongue had you shaking and whimpering and filling his mouth.

He could do this forever, even if his knees ached and his trousers were unbearably tight.

Just as you shook in his grip and he felt you sliding down his chin, there was a sharp knock at the door.

“We’re leaving! I’m giving you exactly thirty seconds to meet us outside.”

Beau recognized the maid of honor’s voice on the other side. It was quickly followed by a chorus of giggles. But he hardly heard any of it as you sighed and curled your hands beneath Beau’s chin and pulled him up with a gentle tug. You kissed him, undoubtedly tasting yourself on his tongue, as your thumb swept gentle circles against his cheek.

Your eyes were hazy and half-lidded again and you stole another kiss against his mouth when he pulled your dress back down.

“You can definitely do a lot in fifteen minutes, Admiral.” Your finger swept beneath his lip, gathering the evidence of your secret and you licked it away. “I’ll return the favor. I promise.”

Before you slipped away from him again, Beau kissed you again. He couldn’t get enough of it, of you. Nor the soft laugh you let out as you whispered you’d see him on Monday.

Monday was going to be interesting. He didn’t know what it would bring, how any of this would turn out, but he had hope. And he liked to think you did, too.

Beau couldn’t wait.

A/N: please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

#top gun rocktober #Beau Simpson x reader #beau cyclone Simpson x reader #cyclone x reader #tgm fic #tgm #female reader

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bradshawssugarbaby · 6 months

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Do I? - Beau Simpson x Reader

a/n: I've been wanting to write for Beau for a while (I love Jon Hamm and this is a hill I am willing to die on), so here's my first one for him. Inspired loosely by Do I? by Luke Bryan.

pairing: Beau Simpson x reader

warnings/content: angst to fluff, mentions of divorce if you squint, Beau being kinda soft, allusions to smut, allusions to child ab*se, Beau doesn't always know how to show his emotions but damn it he tries his best.

word count: 1.9k

taglist: @nouis-bum, @jessicab1991, @b-bradshaw, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld

Do I turn you on at all when I kiss you, baby? Does the sight of me wanting you drive you crazy? Do I have your love? Am I still enough? Tell me don't I? Or tell me, do I, baby Give you everything that you ever wanted? Would you rather just turn away and leave me lonely? Do I just need to give up and get on with my life? Tell me, baby do I get one more try?

Beau grumbled as he walked through the door, his keys dropping into the catch-all dish on the table with a clatter. His brows knit together as he looked around the room, searching for any sign of you being home. His tired blue-green eyes blinked as he raked a hand over his face, trying to wake himself up as he searched the house for you. Calling your name to no response, he furrowed his brow as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He frowned as he saw there were zero missed calls and zero missed messages from you, a sign that you were truly mad at him this time.

He let out an exhausted sigh as he slumped into the armchair in the living room, picking up a discarded baseball your son had forgotten to put away and rolling it in his hands, over his fingers and back as his mind ran over the events that unfolded that morning.

He hadn’t meant to be cold towards you or Dylan. He’d been stressed and overworked, struggling with an upcoming mission that he had to plan out, trying to ensure the right team was put together for the job. Combing through dozens of personnel files until his eyes were sore, staying up all hours of the night trying to create an action plan, briefing notes - he rarely left base anymore. He knew you’d felt neglected, and God, he hated making you feel that way. He hated that you felt unwanted, unloved, and yet, you did everything you could to still make life easier for him. He knew he didn’t deserve that. In fact, he knew he didn’t deserve you–your patience, your understanding, your love and affection. He didn’t deserve to be Dylan’s father either, not that he’d been a particularly good one anyway.

Dylan had a baseball tournament coming up, and you’d asked Beau if he’d be able to make it. Dylan’s team had never been invited to play before, but they’d managed to make it to a statewide tournament, teams from all over California would be there with their children, ages 8-10. The Coronado Crowns were having a record season, and Dylan had begun to emerge as their star pitcher. When you’d asked him about it, he’d had a dozen other things on his mind - he couldn’t even remember you mentioning it in the first place, if he was honest. He figured he’d hummed along in response, not hearing what you’d said, but not wanting to give off the impression he wasn’t listening.

Unaware of what he’d agreed to, Beau bounded down the stairs this morning, his footsteps heavy as he headed to the kitchen. He was running late, and barely had time to have coffee with you, but he was determined to at least kiss you good morning before heading out the door. You’d frowned at him when you saw him in uniform, and immediately, his mind began to race, running through a list of scenarios that could have upset you. He wasn’t the most romantic husband - he knew that, but he was sure he’d never forgotten an anniversary or a birthday. It wasn’t until Dylan came down in his baseball uniform, his duffel bag packed for the four-day tournament slung over his shoulder. His face fell as he looked at Beau, an instant wave of guilt washing over Beau’s face.

“I’m sorry, I forgot, buddy, listen, I really have to get this done at work, I have a briefing scheduled for today, I can’t miss it,” Beau had explained, trying to reason with his 9 year old son.

“I get it, Dad, it’s ok,” Dylan shrugged before sitting down at the breakfast nook for some scrambled eggs.

“We’re leaving at 10, get to Oakland for about 8 tonight,” you explained, nodding your head as you forced a smile in Dylan’s direction.

Beau let out a frustrated sigh, of course you weren’t home now - you left four hours ago. You were halfway to Oakland by this point. He leaned his head back against the chair, shutting his eyes for a moment as he dragged his hand over his face once more. He knew he’d fucked up. He knew he’d let you both down. He checked his phone again. If he left now, he could probably make it to you and Dylan by 11 if he made minimal stops on his way. He could make this right, he could show up tonight, surprise you - surprise Dylan in the morning when he woke up, spend the weekend being the father and husband he’d failed to be for the last month or so.

Beau bolted up the stairs, quickly changing out of his uniform and into more relaxed, civilian clothes. He grabbed a bag from the closet and began to shove some clean clothes inside, showing little care about keeping them neat or organized. He headed to the bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant and his razor, tossing them all into the bag in a hurry. Bounding back down the staircase, he stepped into his running shoes and flew out the door with his keys and bag in hand. A well-loved baseball cap from his college days sat in the front seat - a relic he’d meant to bestow to Dylan but forgotten about. He placed the cap on his head, sporting it backwards, just as he would have done 30+ years ago when he got it.

As he drove down the interstate, he thought about the ways he could apologize to you. His mind ran through all the things you liked, the romantic gestures he’d heard you mention, the different romcom tropes you loved - anything he could think of that could make up for what he’d lacked in as a husband. When he stopped for dinner, pulling into a fast-food restaurant just off the highway, he contemplated what he’d say when you asked him if he was insane, knowing that was exactly how you’d respond to hearing that he drove down after all, determined not to miss a minute of Dylan’s tournament. He thought about how he’d pull you in close, giving you an emblazoned, passionate kiss as he held you in his arms, giving a rare, dramatic, public display of affection. He yawned as he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel you were staying at with Dylan, finding an open spot next to your car. He got out, smiling fondly as he spotted the bedazzled steering wheel cover that he always teased you about - the one he’d begrudgingly bought for your birthday when you’d asked for it, pretending to find it ridiculous when really, he was admiring you for it, for being so unashamedly yourself. It was a quality he was jealous of in you - he’d been brought up in an old-school military family, taught to be seen and not heard, to blend in with everyone else and to remain reserved the majority of the time. He rarely cracked a smile outside of the house, and really, even wearing a baseball cap outside of a Padres game was unlike him.

He approached the front desk with a look of pure determination on his face, his bag clutched in his hand. Once he made it to your room, he rapped on the door with a gentle knock, trying not to make too much noise in the hopes he didn’t wake Dylan. You opened the door, looking ready to chew out whoever it was knocking for waking you, but your look of anger quickly dissipated as you wrapped your arms around Beau tightly.

“You flew down here?!” You whispered excitedly, arms draped around his neck.

“No, flights were booked,” Beau shook his head with a chuckle, a soft smile forming on his lips, “I drove.”

“You…you drove?”

“Mhmm, all nine hours. I’m surprised I made it before midnight, I finished my briefing early, managed to get the plans set for the mission, and then got home and realized I had time to fix things with you and Dylan.”

“He’ll be so excited. He was devastated at the thought of you not making it to see him play.”

“Look, I have to talk to you, ok?” He began, shaking his head as he let out an awkward chuckle, frowning as he tried to collect his thoughts.

“I’ve been the worst husband to you. I know I have. I know I’ve made you feel unloved, and unwanted, and unimportant, and I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you feel that way. I’ve never wanted our marriage to be strained over my work, and I know my job is demanding and it’s difficult some days for me to put you and Dylan first - but believe me, I love you two more than anything. You know that, right? And, I know you probably aren’t happy with me - I don’t blame you. I know you probably wanted to divorce me ten minutes ago, and you’re complete right in thinking that - I would have deserved it.”

You pressed your lips to his gently, interrupting his rambling with a soft, tender kiss. He pulled away gently, reaching up to take the baseball cap off of his head before ducking down to kiss you again. He pulled away after a moment, breathless and blissful as he gazed at you.

“So, am I still enough for you? Do you want me to leave or do I get another chance?”

“You’ve always been enough, Beau,” you shook your head, beaming up at him, “Even when you forget commitments and you get caught up with work, or when you don’t always say the right thing, you always make up for it and try to fix things, and that’s one of the things I love about you. You drove nine hours when you realized you couldn’t catch a flight down here because you realized how much it meant to Dylan and I for you to be here. I don’t know many other men who’d drop everything on a dime to do that.”

“I guess that’s true,” he nodded, shaking his head in disbelief before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “I mean it though, I really think you could have done better than a middle-aged Admiral who can’t show his emotions very well and doesn’t know how to prioritze anything correctly.”

“You’re right, I could have, but where’s the fun in that?” You teased, taking the baseball cap from his hand and placing it back on his head, backwards.

“By the way, Beau, you should wear a hat like this more often.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

You bit your lip seductively, holding back a wicked grin as you looked up at him, nodding your head, “Kinda makes me wanna show you just how much I love you.”

“Dylan’s asleep in here,” he laughed, shaking his head as his cheeks flushed.

“Dylan is sleeping in Ryder’s room, three doors away, actually.”

Beau’s eyes widened slightly, his hands drifting down to your hips. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you, turning his head to the side to scan the room, seeing that, you were in fact, alone. When he turned, you caught a glimpse of the salt and pepper streaks that ran through his hair on the side of his head, the sight alone almost enough to make you melt.

“Well, in that case, let me show you just how sorry I am.”

#beau cyclone simpson #beau cyclone simpson x reader #beau cyclone simpson x you #beau simpson #beau simpson x reader #beau simpson x you #beau simpson fic #beau cyclone simpson fic #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year

Text

Rumours: Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x Reader

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

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

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

It’s clear they’re sleeping together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

Briefly Beau wonders what they expect from this latest development.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How does it work with the deployments?”

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

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

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

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

“Care packages.” Beau supplements into the conversation.

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

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

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

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

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

Hangman nods knowingly before Beau interrupts.

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

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

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

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

Beau nods his agreement before his gaze meets yours.

“You know I’d never…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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#beau cyclone simpson #beau simpson #beau simpson x you #beau simpson x reader #cyclone x reader #cyclone x you #topgun beau #beau cyclone simpson x reader

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nobody7102 · 1 year

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The 4th

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, Fireworks, Loud sounds

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

Master-list

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

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

“Did the store have everything?”

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

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

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

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

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

__________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #beau simpson #beau cyclone simpson #cyclone #cyclone simpson #jon hamm #beau cyclone simpson x reader #cyclone x reader #cyclone simpson x reader #jon hamm x reader #admiral beau cyclone simpson #admiral cyclone #admiral beau simpson #admiral cyclone simpson

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tropes-and-tales · 10 months

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Sleep to Dream

Day 10: Somnophilia (Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Somnophilia; dub-con (because of the somnophilia, but consent is discussed obliquely); smut (PiV, unprotected; possibly a hint of breeding kink?); 18+ only.

Word Count: 3145

AN: This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: Barely edited and never beta-read. Live dangerously, friends.

Beau Simpson operates under extreme stress almost every waking minute of every day. Career military is difficult enough, but commanding the elite fighter pilots that pass through TOPGUN is like playing the game on expert mode. There’s so much protocol, so much paperwork. There’s politicking up the chain of command, but most stressful of all: there’s trying to balance the mission against the lives of the men and women under his command.

A weaker man would have broken years ago, but Vice Admiral Simpson can bear it. His job has always been his life—he never married, never had kids, so his work filled up all the space in his life until there wasn’t room for anything else anyway.

Until now. Until he met you, months and months ago, a date set up by mutual friends that he only agreed to because the question came during a low point of loneliness, right around his birthday when the weight of his solitary years seemed more than he could bear.

The date had been awkward, both of you stilted and out of practice with being sociable. Beau had been fantasizing about going home, shedding his suit, and cracking open a bottle of scotch when you gave a light laugh and threw your hands up in surrender over the basket of bread sticks.

“Let’s just say this isn’t going anywhere after tonight,” you had said. “So there’s no pressure to perform and we can just have a nice meal together, okay?”

Such a simple solution. Beau had smiled at you—his first genuine smile all evening—and agreed. Yes, this was going nowhere. Let’s just eat our delicious food and relax.

Except once you both relaxed, no longer under your self-imposed pressure, the date evened out and found its rhythm. Beau found himself unclenching. He noticed how your shoulders dropped down from where they had been hoisted up by your ears. You both relaxed, and by the time the check was being laid down on the table, Beau was enjoying himself.

An awkward first date led to a less awkward second date. Months and months later, he’s here: after a long, stressful day at work, he’s slipping the key you gave him into the door, easing himself into your small bungalow home, easing his shoes off and padding back to your bedroom—sometimes his bedroom too; he has a drawer in your dresser and space in your closet. You’re fast asleep and he doesn’t want to wake you, so he undresses quietly, slips into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then he slips into bed beside you.

You’re in one of his shirts, a ragged one from his academy days that is faded and stretched along the collar. It’s long on you, but when Beau pulls back the covers, he can see where it’s rucked up, revealing a pair of white cotton panties that have no business making his mouth run dry, yet they do.

He usually just goes to sleep beside you. He usually just wakes you enough to let you know he’s there, then holds you until you slip back to sleep. He usually just buries his nose against your hair, against the back of your neck, takes in the familiar scent of you. He usually just tugs your lax body to his. Beau finds comfort in the simple fact of your body—solid, warm, breathing deep and even. The little sighs you make as you settle against him.

That’s what he usually does, but not always. You’ve made certain parameters clear to him. Certain…allowances. Beau was uncomfortable with the thought of it at first, but then as he fell more and more in love with you, as he saw the trust you had for him and as his trust for you grew…

You can’t communicate it verbally if you’re asleep. You communicate it in other ways.

If you’re not open to it any particular night, you wear black or colored panties to bed. But white panties? Those mean something else entirely. That means you’re his completely, however he wants you. He can wake you up…or he can let you sleep, but you’re his in every sense of the word.

You’re generally a pretty deep sleeper. Beau has only done this a few times, and it’s the strangest kink he’s discovered yet. There’s a sense of ownership, of having total control over your body while you sleep, but it all feeds into a deep intimacy, the purest form of trust he’s ever had in a relationship. It’s purely erotic, entirely hot—he’s already hard, his cock straining against his boxers at just the sight of those white panties molded to the cleft between your legs—but it also makes his throat tight as he stares down at your peaceful, sleeping face.

Beau kneels over you, and he peels the sheet the rest of the way off of you. You shift a little at the loss of it, but it’s San Diego—the room is warm, and you switch the AC off at night. He waits for you to settle again, then he reaches out and touches you.

Everything in Beau’s life is hard. The politics of his job, the needless red tape, the life-and-death decisions. Even his loneliness until now has been hard, a heavy thing to bear for so many years, but you—the sudden appearance of you all those months ago—you are soft. You’re light and warm and kind, but above all, you are soft, and you are soft under his hands as he touches you. He curls a hand into a loose fist, runs his knuckles over the smooth skin of your thighs, and when he reaches the rucked-up hem of his shirt, he slips his palm underneath.

The softness of your belly, the curve of your waist. Up to the swell of your breasts, loose in the oversized t-shirt, and Beau cups you there, revels in how perfectly you fit in the palm of his hand. He runs the pad of his thumb over your nipple, strokes you light as air until you start to pebble against him. He pinches you lightly, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough to draw a sigh from you—your lips part in sleep and you sigh, and there’s a hint of a moan behind it.

But you don’t wake.

He climbs off the bed long enough to shed his boxers, then he rejoins you. He lies beside you, propped up on one arm, and he touches you with more intention with his free hand. He reaches down and strokes your knees, the rounded tops of your thighs. He slides his hand like a knife’s blade between your thighs, the softer skin there and far warmer, and then he grasps the curve and heft of your leg before he ghosts his forefinger along the white cotton of your panties.

Beau fixes his gaze on your face as he touches you. He strokes you between your legs, over and over, feather-light but with enough pressure that he can feel you getting wet from his ministrations. You don’t wake but your breathing picks up, and Beau can see your eyes moving behind your eyelids, and he thinks you must be dreaming. He wonders if you’re dreaming of him.

Beau’s dreams before were always stress-dreams related to work: dreams of being stuck in a runaway car, a runaway plane. Dreams where his teeth fell out or where he was late for a final exam he never studied for. He rarely had good dreams, and he almost never had erotic dreams.

After he met you, though? It was like a switch was thrown in his brain, and now he dreams of little else. Sometimes they aren’t necessarily sexy—he dreams of you sitting across from him in his office, or he dreams of you in his childhood home. But they are often erotic dreams—even when he can’t remember the details, he wakes up hard and aching for you. He wakes with a hunger so soul-deep that if you’re not beside him in that moment, if you’re not within arm’s reach, he feels panicky, like maybe he imagined you, like he dreamed you up, and he can’t quite calm until he hears your voice again or sees you or—best yet—can pull you into his arms.

What are you dreaming now? How is your mind interpreting the way your body is responding to him? You grow wet; the white cotton turns translucent as your arousal soaks through it, and Beau hooks a careful finger along the elastic edging and moves it aside. He parts your folds, shifts his gaze from your face to between your legs. In the scant bit of light, he can just make out your perfect pussy: slick and glistening, the swollen bud of your clit.

He can’t resist it; he leans down and presses a plush kiss to you there, open and searching, and when he laves his tongue along your seam, you breathe out a sleepy, quiet moan. Beau freezes—he doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t move. You don’t wake, though. You only shift in your sleep, but you part your legs more, you squirm against the mattress before you settle again.

It becomes a game to him: teasing you, seeing how far he can push the limits of engaging with your body without waking you. He licks against you, flicks his tongue along your clit. He pushes one finger, then a second into you, and it always surprises him at how good you feel—the tight confines of your body, snug and warm. He fingers you so slowly, pushes in until his fingertips brush that spot inside you, pulls them out again. When you shift or sigh or moan, he stills and waits for you to settle.

When you do, he continues.

It’s a game for him too. It’s delayed gratification. Beau is a master at denying himself; most of his life has been spartan, austere. He’s foregone the usual comforts that most men in his position rely on—he’s never married, and he rarely dated much, but now that he has you, he luxuriates in these moments. He stretches them out until he reaches the end of his patience.

It takes a while for him to reach his limit now. He keeps thinking you’ll wake before he breaks, but you’re a deep sleeper and must have been especially tired tonight. You shift and sigh and moan, but you don’t really start to wake until after Beau carefully climbs on top of you, after he reaches down to grasp his aching cock and line it up with your entrance. After he starts to push into you, your pussy opening to him like a flower, and he gets halfway inside you before your eyes flutter open and you whimper out the sweetest, most drawn out, “oh.”

Beau never would have thought of this as a kink he’d enjoy, and it took him a while to get past his discomfort, but now? Oh, he loves this part, you waking up as he enters you, that moment when your face is absolutely without artifice at the sensation of his cock splitting you open. Your wide eyes gazing up at him without an ounce of fear, just pure love and trust, and tonight you reach up a clumsy hand and cup the side of his face as you breathe out his name.

Beau loves the sound of his name in your mouth. To everyone else, he’s Vice Admiral or Sir or Cyclone, but to you? He’s just Beau; he’s just a man without a chest full of medals, no commendations or accolades. He’s just a man loving you, his woman, so when you draw him down for a kiss, he happily obliges you.

You must taste yourself on his lips and his tongue. You give a sleepy groan, and then he feels the curve of your smile against his mouth before you whisper, “been having fun without me?”

Beau pushes the last fraction into you, feels the press of your hipbones against his, and when he pulses forward your eyes widen. You whine at the sensation, and he feels how you clench down against him before you shift underneath him and wrap your legs around the backs of his thighs.

“You were here the whole time,” he whispers back. He sucks a kiss against your pulse point, laves the mark with his tongue.

You hum at that, lift your head enough to kiss his collarbone as he braces himself above you. “Was dreaming about you,” you tell him. You don’t whisper now, but your voice is husky with sleep.

“Good dream?”

You nod, kiss him below his earlobe. “Very good.”

“Remember anything about it?”

You laugh, a little breathless, and one of your hands reaches down to rest lightly on his ass. “Kinda went like this.”

Beau plays dumb. He likes to hear you say it; it’s another kink he’s uncovered, hearing dirty talk. He wants to hear you say the words, the flip side of this game between you—the start where he teases you as you sleep, where he gets as much of his cock inside you before you wake. Then the end where you use your words.

“Like what, sweetheart?” he asks.

“Like this,” you say, and he starts to move. He pulls out, pushes back in, feels how your pussy grips him so well as he does. “Like you…ah, Beau, fuck…like you were fucking me…” You trail off, whine as his rhythm picks up, long and deep thrusts that make your eyes flutter each time he seats himself deep in your cunt.

“Use your words,” he orders. “Describe it.”

“Beau…”

“Describe how I fuck you.”

“So good.” That comes out quick, a babble, but you take a breath and focus. Your eyes lose their fuck-drunk glaze and focus on him. “You fuck me so well with your cock.”

“Yeah?” He buries himself in you and pauses there, pushes his hips forward, pulses into you deeper. He feels where the base of him grinds against your clit. “Is that all?”

“N-no.” You shake your head, refocus. “God, Beau…you’re perfect. You have the perfect cock. So deep I can feel you for days afterwards. No one has ever been so deep…love waking up to you fucking me. Never wanna wake up any other way.”

Beau loves this too, the implication that he’s the best you’ve ever had. He has the barest bit of insecurity here, has been alone for most of his life where you’ve dated other men, and in his idle moments, he wonders if he’s doing right by you. You’ve assured him time and again that he is doing right by you—he’s wonderful, he’s the best—but he believes you the most here, when you’re half-asleep and pliant as he thrusts into you.

“Please,” you add, and you pull him back down for a kiss. You mumble against him, “please, Beau.”

He knows what you’re asking for. He reaches down and maneuvers you, hooks your legs high on his hips first, then slips his arms under them until your legs are on his shoulders. He folds you damned near in half, and the change in angle affords him even more depth into your cunt, enough to feel the where the tip of him brushes against the mouth of your womb, but the sight is even better. You folded underneath him in his own academy shirt, still in your white panties that are absolutely ruined by your combined arousal but framing where his thick cock splits you open over and over as he fucks you. You’re entirely at his mercy—your feet nearly touch the headboard, and your hands grip his biceps, but you are also entirely undone, entirely wanton in the noises you make, the way you beg him to use you, to mark you, to ruin you so that no one else can even come close to how well he fucks you.

He can feel you getting close, can feel you clenching down on him with each punishing thrust. He’s close too, the tight coil of tension in his gut, in his balls, at the base of his spine ratcheting each time he buries himself in you. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat, his close-cropped hair is mussed, and he feels his orgasm thundering towards him.

He knows how to get you there a beat before him: he ends each thrust by pressing against you, by pressing the sparse curls at the base of his cock against your clit and grinding there, and you spit out a “fuck, Beau, please” but you’re already there: your contorted body trying to arch as the orgasm tears through you, your fingertips biting into his arms, and your lips parting as you wail out his name.

And then a beat later, his own orgasm crackling along his spine, and he pants out his usual question because he needs to hear you say it, so he asks, “where?” and you manage to whimper through your own orgasm as you tell him inside you, to come inside you, that you want to feel him coming inside you, and so he does—he thrusts as deeply as he can and then he stills. He paints your cervix with his cum, and he feels how your pussy ripples along him to pull it deeper inside you still.

-----

It always takes long moments to extricate himself from you: to lower your trembling legs from his shoulders, to slip out of you (and your groan of disappointment always makes his cock twitch). You each clean up, but you leave your ruined panties on as you crawl back into bed, and the thought of his cum nestled inside you always makes Beau feel a pleased sense of possession, as if you’re marked as his.

He pulls you against him, spoons you as you settle into the bed. “Were you really dreaming about me?” he whispers against the back of your neck, and you laugh lightly.

“Not at first,” you admit. “I had this dream that I was on an indoor roller coaster. At a mall, I think? But then…then I dreamed of you.”

Here, Beau wishes he had a better sense of romance. He wishes he could say sweet, poetical things without feeling like a fraud. He’d say I dreamed of you too or something like that, but when he opens his mouth to say it, the words stick in his throat.

Instead, he sighs at his own cowardice—the brave Vice Admiral undone by mere words; he can’t even say the three words that stick in his throat too. Instead, he sighs and kisses the back of your neck, right along the knob of your spine, and whispers, “sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

#cyclone #cyclone x reader #cyclone imagine #beau simpson #beau simpson x reader #beau simpson imagine #top gun maverick #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales

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bradshawsvinyl · 3 months

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Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x Younger Reader SFW Headcannons

•You and Beau meet at a bar. Due to the nature of his job, Beau doesn’t go out much but fortunately decides to hang out with his friends after work one day where he meets you.

•Despite the age difference, you and Beau actually have a lot of similar interests. You both love watching classic films from the 70s and 80s. You also both share a love of classic rock.

•Beau keeps you a secret at work. I think he gets insecure about his age sometimes and he doesn’t want his colleagues to look down on him because of who he is dating.

•Beau is definitely the provider type. He loves taking care of you and just people in general.

•I think Beau is a really good listener. Whenever you have a hard day, you can rant to him for hours on end and he’ll just listen.

•Beau loves leaving handwritten notes for you. Whenever he gets deployed, he always hides little letters around your home to let you know he’s thinking of you.

•Beau is NOT good when it comes to technology and it’s something you often make fun of him for.

•Once, he asks you for help lowering the brightness on your phone and you burst out into laughter.

•Beau values your presence in his life. He never thought at 50 he’d find someone so loving and caring.

•When you get a big promotion at your job, Beau is the first person congratulating you. He gets you flowers and champagne to celebrate.

•Beau, like Bradley and Jake, would drop anything for you. (Honestly I think all the aviators would.)

•Beau loves watching documentaries. It doesn’t matter what the documentary is about. If there’s one on tv, Beau is SAT. (He also still has cable FOR SURE.)

•Beau has really bad work life balance. One of your first arguments is about Beau spending too much time at work. You miss him when he’s gone but you also worry for his sanity. Being an admiral isn’t an easy job. It’s also not a job you should be doing 24/7.

•After that argument, Beau tries a lot harder to cut back at work where he can. Now that he’s in a relationship, he has to learn how to manage his work life and you.

#beau simpson #top gun x you #top gun maverick #cyclone x reader #beau simpson x reader #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction

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saltsicklover · 11 months

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Title: Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Part 1 of 2 - Completed

Find Part 2 HERE and my Master List HERE

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

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

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

A few uses of Y/N

Word Count: This part: 6k+ Total Fic:20k+

Rating: R

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

---

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

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. Six years before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

The Officers Club, better known as The Flight Line Bar sits on post in Miramar, frequented by the big brass and educators at Top Gun. The whole place glows with amber light from the buzzing light fixtures that hang from the rafters, dusty and hot to the touch. This half of base, on the far side of the air field has yet to be updated, evident by the chips in the glasses and the inconsistent flickering of the halogen bulbs. The wallpaper is peeling; discolored around the old neon signs that have slowly begun to fizzle out. If it were any brighter inside those four walls, one might be able to see the discoloration of well walked floors and one too many spilt beers.

Two loan pool tables sit in the center of the bar, their felt faded from use and tearing, flanked by a couple of dart boards, their cork crumbling from age. The patrons look about the same, old and wrinkled with age, lines worn into their faces that read closer to distinguished than wary. That's what the military does to a person, wears itself straight into the skin and makes a home there, the ghosts of lost wingman and battle buddies still looming in the whites of their eyes. Too many memories are stuck in the deep folds of their uniforms, worn in around the elbows and shoulders, the creases worn from friction- salute after salute.

It's really a hard to believe that people still frequent The Flight Line Bar. After all, there are so many better places for the students of Top Gun to meander into, just off post where they don't have to risk rubbing shoulders with their instructors- or heaven forbid, hit on their guest lecturers.

After all, It's all fun and games, flirty touches and smooth words until you're slapped with a SHARP report.

The students always figure out the good places to drink after class, shortly after their arrival after one too many moments spent inside the crumbling bar. The drinks are good in taste, better in price, but not worth it at the risk of saying just the wrong thing to just the wrong person.

The new recruits arrival happens like clockwork, and it's a ritual the newly minted Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson loves to witness. He has been watching the little ordeal for the last four years, with each new Top Gun class, even choosing to mark the date on his calendar after having almost missed an incoming class last year.

The new Top Gun recruits wander into The Flight Line Bar in gaggles. Most still clad in their uniforms if they had been lucky enough to get issued a drinking order. The wide eyed aviators would file up to the bar, uneasy looks on their faces as they took in the ranks drinking around them. If the Flight Line Bar was a small pond, the Top Gun inductees are guppies surrounded by some very big fish. One year, a young aviator even tripped over the base commander's seat and was met with a glare that even Cyclone would have been nervous to stand on the receiving end of.

The recruits each drink a beer, the brave ones chancing a second, before they're heading for the door. Cyclone loves to see the discomfort that would roll off of them the moment they crossed the threshold back into the parking lot. Some would even shiver, which always seems to pull a hearty laugh out of the Admiral.

This year, however, Cyclone is met with a very different scene before him when he himself broke the threshold of the Flight Line Bar. Having been stuck in a meeting with Admiral Kazansky, Cyclone ends up arriving later than the usual crowd of recruits. So, when he finally wanders in, he is met with the fleeting glances of some top brass, but no new eyes. He can't fight the way he almost deflates; after the shit day he managed to barely claw his way through, the one thing he was looking forward to were the wide eyes of the newest, freshest meat that Top Gun managed to recruit.

As if today of all days wasn't hard enough to begin with.

Instead, it looks like a regular Friday night, which wouldn't do the leg work needed to actually flip his day around for the better. But he's already there, the drinks are cheap, and he really, really needs a drink. So, he orders with a silent wave of his hand, the borderline elderly man behind the bar meeting the wave with a nod of his head. Cyclone plops down unceremoniously onto one of the rickety barstools. It almost sways under his weight, however it does creak weakly as he settles. His temple meets his knuckles as he lets out a deep sigh as the beer being set down in front of him. Cyclone can only manage a nod to the bartender before lifting the glass to his lips.

The question of why he still drinks here, in this lousy bar, floats through his head for a moment, but he doesn't put fourth the energy to grant himself with an answer. Maybe it's the cheap beer and half price shots. Or, maybe the fact that he doesn't have to fight off the happy hour drinkers or the five o'clock somewhere partiers that seem to be carried in with the wind. Again, he doesn't entertain the question long enough to form an answer.

Cyclone doesn't even have to glance around the bar to know the crowd this Friday night hosts. Top brass, tired officers, and disgruntled wives, each drinking their own bad days away.

The glass feels about a hundred pounds and it meets the bar top with a loud thunk, the amber liquid sloshing around inside. A bit of foam sneaks over the rim, running down the crack in the glass. Cyclone scratches at it with this thumbnail, wondering how the hell the bar is still getting away with using nearly broken glassware. The thought doesn't last long, not many seem to this evening, and he is bringing the impossibly heavy glass back to his mouth for another sip.

As he tips it back a little further this time, the sulking woman a few seats down catches his attention. If this were a normal Friday night, Cyclone might make bets with himself on just why a woman might be crying, in this bar, all alone. He might puzzle that she is a soon to be ex-wife, her spouse making the choice to cheat on deployment. Maybe she is a daughter, or a sister, or a cousin, her base escort hiding in some other corner of the bar, or of the base. But tonight is not a normal Friday night, regardless of the absence of the new incoming class or not.

The Admiral can't help but watch her lazily out of the corner of his eye. She brings a shitty bar serviette up to wipe at her cheeks, sniffling as the paper touches her skin. Cyclone should feel guilty about how much the sight comforts him. At least, he thinks, someone else seems to be having just as bad of a day as he is.

Then, she catches him staring, his beer lost in the space between his lips and the counter. His fingers are sticky against the chilled glass as he holds it there, still watching her. Cyclone doesn't look away, no point in it now. Then, she breaks the disillusioned bubble forming between them with a sniffle and a hiccup.

It's not a pretty sound, but then again, the sight of the woman in front of him isn't exactly pretty either. After all, it's hard to be pretty when snot is rubbed up over the tip of her nose, catching the light as she sniffles again. Her hair is akin to a nest, like her fingers have been making their way through it over and over again until it is more mess than style.

"I'm sorry, Admiral, Sir," Her voice is straining from holding back tears. There is snot dripping from her nose again, and she wipes it with another flimsy napkin. A half effort is made to sweep back the hair in her face, her well kept fingernails catching in newly formed knots as she pushes it back. The woman doesn't break eye contact with him, even as the sight of him begins to swim through her newly forming tears.

"Hey, kid, it's okay, don't worry about it," His eyes meet the fluttering neon sign behind her, not wanting to lock eyes with her again. It lights her in a halo of sickly blue and Cyclone can see the fizziness of her hair in it's light- it's a half distraction from the way she is still looking at him with those tears in her eyes. He can't stand it when women cry, not after watching his wife, June, sob through her entire pregnancy. It's really the way their eyes glaze over- that helpless look where he can just tell they are fighting with everything they are worth, deep down knowing that it might not be enough. Though, it warms his chest a bit to call her "kid", like he has always been meant to use the term.

The Admiral's brown eyes go misty, locking onto the chipped portion of his glass as the memory of his wife, six months pregnant, stuck in a hospital bed as hot tears carved their way down her face invades Cyclone's memory like a plague. He will never forget the crimson staining her cheeks from the exertion as she fought. And fought. And fought. The way her skin was more chapped than smooth from the constant flow of tears- the way the light would catch the shininess of her skin from the petroleum jelly that he lovingly spread over her weeping skin.

She didn't make it home.

Neither did their baby boy.

And now, as this woman sits a couple stools down, crying in a way that's anything other than gentle, corralling her sobs into the fence of her chest; her face that same color he used to be so used to seeing, that same damn sheen to her skin and Beau feels sick. His eyes snap down to her hands and he watches as her fingers push through the soggy material of the napkin, a sight that makes him grimace a bit. Gross is not the word to use to describe a crying woman, that is fact he has to remind himself of, but the way her fingertips slipped right through that soggy excuse of a napkin is damn close. Cyclone schools his mouth into a tight line, knowing that anything he might say could make both of their day's spiral downwards even faster.

"Admiral," Cyclone wills himself to look her in the face, but his pupils dance around, not locking in on one spot too long. The frizz of her hair, then over the puffy skin under her eyes, then back up to the buzzing neon just over the top of her head. Anything to keep from looking into the woman's eyes. He manages a nod in her direction, rewarded with a hiccup from behind her glass.

A couple more used napkins are tossed up onto the bar, adding them to her steadily growing pile. Her beer is cold, and she can feel it travel all the way down, chilling her burning insides with each swallow. Cyclone takes a drink of his too, waiting for her to continue her thought. He closes his eyes as he tips back the glass, the image of the crying woman in front of him replaced with one of June, and he's not really sure which is worse.

Thunk goes the glass again.

"Can I ask a favor?" Her tone is so sweet, yet so, so sad. He thinks of June, then he nods, his body doing the motion for the sake of his heart, even though his brain is screaming at him. He was taught a long time ago that there are people who don't just ask for favors, specifically strange women in bars, new recruits, and the big brass. But, the woman looks about the age his son should have been now and his chest constricts with the realization that he could have been sitting here drinking with him if things had turned out different.

"How can I help you, kid?" The glass is hitting the bar top just a little bit too hard again, the splinter in the glass growing a millimeter. It's quickly covered by the large pad of Cyclone's thumb.

"I- well, I'm supposed to be here celebrating my Mother's leg-legacy," Another sob-full hiccup breaks up her sentence. Cyclone waits patiently for her to finish. She wipes at the tip of her nose with the back of her hand.

"And, she really liked to shoot whiskey," The explanation is coming out too wet and not at all concise, but Beau is nodding along anyway. The woman is rubbing at her eyes again, this time with her fingertips. She carefully runs her nail along the underside of her waterline, trying to catch the new tears before they streak down her cheeks with the rest of them. It doesn't really work, or even if it does, Cyclone can't tell. New tears fill up the spaces the freshly wiped away ones once occupied.

Despite the unclear delivery, Cyclone gets the message. Ordering two double shots of Tennessee whiskey, his wife's favorite, Cyclone offers his best sympathetic smile to his new drinking companion. Then, as the whiskey is being poured and he is shuffling over to the bar stool next to hers. That one creaks and sways too, but he tries not to pay it too much mind.

"What's your name, kid?" There's that warmth again, breaking through the tightening feeling in his chest.

"Lieutenant Y/N "Monsoon" Mitchell," Monsoon raises her shot glass to Cyclone, offering him a nod. It's such an informal introduction but both are thankful for the lack of salute, the lack of military theatrics, tradition, that they are usually stuck to upholding. After all, what is tradition except peer pressure ringing through from years past.

Cyclone knows her, well, her name, this recruit- on paper at least. Suddenly he feels a bit worse for feeling less alone when he spotted her crying.

"Beau "Cyclone" Simpson," He raises his own glass, moving to tap them together. It's a risky move with the state of the glasses, each sporting chips in their rims and hairline fractures down their side. They share sullen, makeshift smiles, neither putting any sort of heart behind the expression. It's a knowing sort of thing, the look they share, one that says I won't say anything if you won't.

"To my Mama, Lieutenant Maria Davis, the best damn medic the USS Vinson ever saw," Monsoon's toast is simple, but she means every single word. Beau's mouth turns up at the corners, nodding to her in acknowledgment of a good job.

"And too my wife, June, and our baby boy, god rest their souls."

The bottoms of the glasses hit the table before the rim makes contact with their lips. The alcohol goes down with a burn, but it's a welcomed sensation. Anything feels better than swallowing grief and there's too much in the air right now. Cyclone chases the shot with a gulp of his beer. Monsoon doesn't. She rests the cool glass against her warm cheek, squeezing her eyes shut. It's a refreshing feeling, almost like she is being rinsed from the inside out.

The alcohol settles deep within them. She is buzzing, he is a bit queasy. Neither need to say a thing about it. It kind of feels like church- like a well spoken sermon where one sits in the pew the furthest from the crowed, tucked away in the back, poking holes in each lesson the preacher delivers. After all, it's not really God's plan, is it? More dumb luck than divine circumstance. Yet, they are both still there, sitting on stool that could give out at any moment as the lights above them buzz and the world feels a little smaller.

"I was watching the class today. You're a damn good pilot, Monsoon," Beau speaks after a few beats of silence, not quite sure what to say. Go with the truth, right? It would be rude to move back to his original seat, especially after the woman next to him just got control of her tears, so small talk is the next best option. She cracks her eyes open, trying to read the expression that follows the compliment. It looks genuine, if not a little proud, so she nods.

And then the world is a bit smaller, still.

"Thank you, Admiral, sir," She sets the glass down, gentler than he has done the whole night, "That means a lot, coming from such a talented pilot as yourself, sir."

And then Cyclone is chuckling, his chest vibrating. That feeling being the closest thing to godly he has felt in a long time, but it's more Zeus, more Jupitar, than it could have ever been God. Monsoon's words are so genuine and it catches him off guard. Most people who say something like that are trying to kiss his ass so hard that there they all but wear marks on the backside of his trousers.

"Are you getting excited to graduate? The ceremony is next week, right?" He asks, bringing his eyes back to the neon behind her. The light above them flickers, neither one acknowledging it. There is a sort of kinship between the way their souls feel and the state of the bar, where living feels like the flickering of a light, tonight.

"Sir?" The question comes with a tilt of her head, her fingers wrapping loosely around her beer. He watches the condensation drip down the glass, the water disappearing behind her fingertips.

"To graduate," he explains like it's the clearest thing, "To finish Top Gun,"

"Oh!" Monsoon almost chuckles, but her soul is too heavy. She settles on a small smile, as kind as she can manage.

"I don't graduate for another six weeks. Today just wrapped my seventh week here, but halfway done does feel good," He can tell she is holding something back with the way her eyes are pinched at the corners, the smiles on her lips straining a bit under her words. Monsoon looks like she almost doesn't believe the words that are leaving her own mouth, but when Cyclone catches her eyes again he can see that look again, I won't say anything if you won't.

"Oh," Beau's hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck, all of a sudden feeling like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "In that case, you are one of the best pilots I've ever seen,"

The words fall from his tongue like they are the simplest thing in the world. His eyebrows are still raised as he downs the rest of his beer. He contemplates Monsoon's career in his head, attempting to think back to files he knows are sitting on his desk, but the alcohol swirls the statistics together in his brain.

"Thank you, sir,"

"Is your father planning on coming to your graduation?" The question is so simple, the next plausible question after toasting to her Mother's life. Monsoon bristles at the question, her expression becoming impossibly more tight, pinched.

"He's uhm," The foam in the bottom of Monsoon's glass is the most interesting thing in the room. Tears are flooding her eyes again, and she's turning back to the shitty bar napkins in the even shittier dispenser. Cyclone knows his question hit a nerve based on how she is frantically pulling napkin after napkin out of the dispenser; and the Admiral's guilt swims to the surface. He is sure that the horizon of it can be seen in his iris's, if Monsoon were to look past the evident sadness that has made a home there. He's pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, blue in color and perfectly folded. He offers it to her and it's taken with a slightly shaky hand.

"M.I.A. or AWOL?" Cyclone asks. There's a bit of humor to his question that neither of them comment on.

"He went AWOL when I was seven," She doesn't take her eyes off the popping foam in the bottom of her glass, "Then I suppose he went M.I.A. three years later, when he stopped sending birthday cards,"

Cyclone hates the way her shrugs are all noncommittal and vaguely unbothered. He would have killed for a chance to raise his child, hell, he would move the Earth if that meant he even had a chance to do something. The fact that a man would walk out on his family, on his own child, it makes him sick. There is still something else Monsoon isn't saying; the way she chuckles is almost wax poetic with the way she rolls her eyes. Cyclone raises an eyebrow at her as he gestures to the bartended for two more on tap.

"I was in Admiral Kazansky's office today," She chuckles again, eyes glassy and unfocused. Cyclone slides the new beer over to her. He brings his up to his lips as she breathes deeply, trying to order the words together in her head, words she can't believe she is about to say out loud.

"There's a fucking picture of my father on his desk," Then she is downing the beer in quick, deep gulps. It's half gone before she sets it back down. Cyclone's brain is working on overdrive, swerving the hazy clouds of intoxication, searching for the mental picture of the Admiral's desk. Monsoon is chuckling in quiet disbelief, picturing the damn photo on his desk, her father and the Admiral shaking hands during their time at Top Gun. It makes her sick, really, but she doesn't need to say it based on the way her face feels, all contorted and ugly.

"I didn't even want to be a fucking pilot," Cyclone doesn't know if she is speaking to him anymore, or if the words are meant for her half empty glass. Hell, the way she speaks them they could be meant for the universe, for Khaos, for the air itself. There's a chip on that glass too, in the smooth side if of it, where it tapers down. He watches as Monsoon rubs her fingertip over it again and again and again.

"What did you want to do?" The question is leaving Cyclone's lips before he can stop it, common sense kicking in too slow. He is kicking himself.

Then, her thumb is stopping.

"I wanted to be a RIO," The glass is lifted to her lips again, her eyes rolling at the mere thought, "I wanted to fly with my Dad,"

The laughter that leave Monsoon's lips is dry as autumn air. Her lips crack too, under the stretch of her half hearted smile- one that holds no joy, it's all lukewarm and apathetic. He watches the skin of her lips crack and separate- it looks painful, and Cyclone has to fight not to grimace at the sight. Blood slowly begins to leak through the new flesh wound, bright red as it crests over the fullness of her bottom lip. He remembers watching the same thing happen to Maverick in the back of a helicopter as the wind whipped around them. But then, Maverick wore a truly joyous smile, one that rounded out his cheeks with a rosy hue that went deeper than the wind burn.

Then it hits Cyclone like a ton of bricks- like pulling 6 G's in a fucking barrel roll. Mitchell. This girl in front of him, this broken, fatherless girl is Pete Michell's kid. As if Cyclone needed another reason to hate the reckless man.

Beau wants to punch Pete Michell so hard that the only thing the man can make out in his field of vision is stars. Either the ones in the sky as he is planted with his back in the dirt, or the ones that would no doubt sparkle behind his eyelids. He wants to watch as the other man bleeds from the nose, the lip, the inside of his mouth. Cyclone can almost see the way the blood would pool in the spaces between Maverick's too white teeth, turning them a sickly vermilion. He would take a little too much pride watching the blood drip out of the corner of Pete's mouth, or down the crest of his chin.

Hell, Pete Michell, bloody, is a justified sight in Cyclone's book.

But that wouldn't help her right now. So Cyclone takes a breath, calming the flames of anger, of Hades that often lick at his legs, at his hands, whenever he so much as thinks about Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

He's a bastard, that much is for sure. And it doesn't seem that Monsoon needs reminding of that fact.

"Well, kid," Beau is hunting, hurting for the right words, "If it's not wrong of me to say- your talents would have been wasted as a fucking RIO, especially for that son of a bitch," That gets Monsoon chuckling. She wants to ask if her grandmother was really that bad, but she doesn't make the joke. Though the laugh sounds a bit strangled as it untangles from the dense pain in her chest, Cyclone is happy to hear it. Something small swells in his heart at the sound.

Somewhere, deep in the cavernous spaces of his soul, a broken part of him feels like a father for the first time in years, even if it isn't exactly proper and the woman in front of him isn't his kid. Cyclone feels like a father, not even in a pseudo sense of the word, but truly like a father, and the feeling warms him from the inside out. It overtakes his whole body, leaving him almost buzzing.

Now it's his turn to chuckle. It's sour with pain and longing, but it's still there. Like joy is trying to crawl it's way out, lukewarm and dripping wet.

"Well, Admiral, sir," Monsoon's voice is a little lighter now, sweeter maybe. Cyclone is watching as she's pulling her coat over her shoulders, "Thank you for the favor, and the drink,"

She's nodding her head in the direction of the half full glass still dripping with condensation.

"Thank you for remembering them with me, too," They share a knowing smile, it's a little broken but it is still warm. Again, it's one of those I won't say anything if you won't looks shared between the pair. They lock eyes one last time before Monsoon is turning on her heel, ready to head right out of the front door.

For just a second Cyclone wonders if Monsoon will shudder with relief in the same way the new Top Gun recruits usually do, or if something as simple as that will effect such a skilled pilot. He wonders if anyone will be there for her on graduation day, or if she will be stuck alone in the seas of families and friends- just like he was all those years ago.

I won't say anything if you won't. Yeah, that's not a chance he's willing to take.

"Wait," Cyclone calls after Monsoon, his voice a little too loud and not at all hesitant enough. Monsoon chances a look back, confusion written into the furrow of her brows. He becons he back with a wave of his hand. Cyclone pulls a business card from his front pocket. "I am going TDY, but I should be back for your graduation," The words don't make sense to Monsoon, and neither does the card that he's presenting her between his two fingers. She is cocking her head to the side again, eyebrows furrowed. Cyclone tries to not notice how much she looks like her father.

He notices anyway.

"Email me, remind me of the date, and I'll be there," He is presenting her the card again with a shake of his wrist. Then, she reaches out, grabbing it with nervous fingers.

"Oh, uh-" There are new tears forming in Monsoon's eyes at the words, the card now swimming in her vision. "Thank you, sir,"

"Oh, better yet," Cyclone plucks the card from her fingertips, a move that may have been considered crass but Monsoon can't help but find a little bit funny. Cyclone quickly scribbles down a phone number in messy loops of blue ink, the numbers taking up a little too much room on the back side of the card. Then, he blows on it carefully to make sure the ink won't smudge before handing the card back out to her in the same manner as before.

"Text me the reminder, so it doesn't get lost in my email," Cyclone's smile is so kind and there is a ribbon of hope, a glimmer, really, shinning through the lightest parts of his irises. Monsoon can barely hold back her tears at the sight, and so the card becomes the most interesting thing in the room, held between her shaking fingertips. "You deserve to have a parent there, kid,"

Those are the last words they share that night. They don't need to say anything else. After all, how do you explain the want to stand in as a lost family member? Beau would never admit just how much he's dying for a kid to support, to cheer on and celebrate. Monsoon knows the feeling too, the want to be a daughter who isn't seen as an inconvenience, a burden.

The next time they see each other, Cyclone is sitting in the front row at her Top Gun graduation, a small bouquet of calla lilies on his lap. There is a proud smile on his face and the moment Monsoon sees it there are tears in her eyes. She wonders if this is the feeling she had been missing out on, a father's pride, his love. She tries not to dwell on it, even as walks across that stage.

When the pair meet in the crowd, Cyclone doesn't hesitate to pull her into a hug, one that may not have been professional or regulated, but he feels a weight come off her shoulders the moment he pulls her in. He feels a little more whole too. The hug is short, quick, really, but there are tears in both of their eyes when they pull back.

Cyclone has so much pride for her, and God, Monsoon can feel it. From the way he beams at her to the way he shoves a camera into the hands of his battle buddy, tucking her under his arm. Both clad in dress uniform, posing for the camera as she holds the flowers against her chest to try and quell the beating of her heart. They both sport tears in their eyes, cheeks round and plump red as they smile too wide.

That photo makes onto his desk a week later, displayed in a beautiful mahogany frame.

USS Stennis. Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Four Years before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

The first time Monsoon calls him Pops, it's an accident. She got shipped out to an aircraft carrier somewhere in the Pacific. The tour is lonely. She doesn't know the team, the group who have been stationed there for the last six months, and they weren't overly keen on the 'new girl'. Monsoon made it through three months before she started to feel like a part of the team. It's a conscious choice, really, to keep working at fitting in. But in the end that team, those people, they aren't her family and they aren't going to remember her after she ships back stateside.

Emails to and from Cyclone kept her going, as he reassured her that life on the carrier isn't easy on anyone. He urges her to try and make better friends with those who hold a more permanent position on the vessel, so she does her best to take the newbies under her wing. If she wasn't welcomed, that was out of her control, but she can sure as hell make sure that the newbies are.

The plan starts off a little rough, the new sailors unsure of the overly friendly Lieutenant amongst the standoffish seasoned crew of the vessel. But days turn to weeks, trust is earned and the long days and nights onboard get easier to swallow.

Then, Cyclone gets shipped out to the carrier for a briefing. He can't help the rumble of excitement that tracks through him. He might get to see Monsoon, his kid, and he's going to do everything in his power to track her down on board.

There is too much joy on his features as he touches down on the carrier. Too much joy for the briefing he is getting ushered into. It drags on longer than necessary as they hash and rehash out plans for missions. He knows he should care, he really does, but it's not like people's lives are on the line this mission. It's all practice runs and jet maintenance, and how could anyone expect him to focus when his kid is on the same vessel and he is just fucking sitting there. Cyclone barely sits still, knowing the clock is ticking down on his time aboard and if this meeting goes on any longer than planned he is going to miss his chance to see Monsoon.

Around suppertime, Monsoon is heading to the canteen, desperate for some sort of nourishment. It has been a long day, trial after trial, and thankfully for her, she's fairing better than some of her other wingmen. At least she hasn't puked over the side of the carrier since her first week aboard.

She guides one of the newer pilots, Story, down the stairs from the flight deck, her stomach rumbling as they go. The new Lieutenant on board hot on her heels as they make their way down the stairs.

"I know, Story, but you're going to get through this," Monsoon's voice is low as they wind their way through the tight hallways of the lower decks. "You're a good pilot, there is nothing you can't do. So what if you need a little more practice. That's why we're out here, right?"

The younger man hums in agreement, disappointment scribbled all over his face. They are both coated in sweat, Monsoon's hair sticking to her sweat soaked skin. She craves a shower almost as much as she craves food. Her body is weighed down with flight fatigue as she drags her feet.

The halls of the ship begin to smell more and more like hot biscuits and butter the closer they get to the mess hall. Their stomach's rumble in unison at the smell wafting down the hallway. Monsoon is rounding the corner with her front turned towards Story, not bothering a glance in the direction her feet are heading. A second later, her back meets a hard body, a grunt coming out of her mouth at the impact.

Story goes white at the sight of his new friend running straight into an Admiral. Monsoon doesn't like the look on his face, he looks like he's just seen a ghost, or maybe prophesied a murder. So she turns around slowly, so, so slowly. Her eyes are scrunched as she turns. There is already an apology on her lips as Monsoon peeks to see just exactly who she just ran into.

Eyes go wide, and smiles break out over their faces.

The need for food, a hot shower, and sleep dissipate from her body as she looks up at the man in front of her, joy overtaking.

"Pops!" The name comes out a little too quick, catching them both of guard. Monsoon's cheeks flush dark with embarrassment, realizing what she just said and who she just said it to. Without warning, Cyclone is pulling Monsoon into his chest, wrapping her into a warm, tight hug, just the kind of hug a Dad would give.

"Hey Kiddo,"

TAG LIST

@its-the-pilot

@t4medicroe

@inkandarsenic

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wildbornsiren · 2 years

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Kinktober Day 6: Panties & Lingerie || Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson/F!Reader

Panties & Lingerie Summary: Something pretty for Beau. 518 Female/AFAB reader Warning: Implied sexual situations. Notes: For #kinktober2022. Reminder that these will not have part twos, or continuations. Please follow @wbslibrary since tag lists are gone. (I appreciate ya’ll so much but it was stressing me out, and I was worried I’d miss someone). Comments and sharing let me know you love me, likes are appreciated. Thank you so very much for reading. It’s so appreciated and means the most.

The leftovers had been put away, the dishwasher loaded and started. You had tucked yourself against Beau on the couch getting caught up on a few television shows. You treasured these little intimacies, the way you fit so snugly against him, the way he'd press a kiss to the top of your head during some of the commercial breaks. The tension of the day visibly leaving his body as he relaxed into the overstuffed couch.

"You want to go to bed?" You lean in, kissing his cheek. His arm draped across your shoulders, one large hand gently groping your breast over your shirt.

"We could, or we could relive our misspent teenage years and fool around on the couch."

"Beau..."

He pulls you into his lap, nuzzling against your neck. "Please kitten? I need to have you tonight."

The way his mouth moves against your skin and the soft lingering touch of his hands on your sides, you can't help but roll your hips against his. He groans softly, meeting your movements with slow thrusts of his own.

"You go upstairs, and I'll let the puppies out." You walk your fingers up his chest, pausing to unbutton a couple of buttons, rubbing your cheek against his chest hair. "I'll join you as soon they're done." You stand up, stepping away from him and whistling for the dogs.

Once the dogs are back inside, the house locked up, you linger at the bottom of the stairs, hearing Beau move around your shared bedroom. Grinning to yourself, you lock yourself in the downstairs bathroom. You withdraw a bundle of cloth from the cabinet. Shedding your clothes, you carefully ease the silky hunter green panties up your legs. The lace is soft, the cloth warming to your skin. The unlined lace bra made your tits look amazing. Strappy, the sheer fabric hugged your curves. It takes a few minutes to adjust the garter belt and attach it to the thigh high stockings. You wink at your reflection, blowing yourself a kiss before turning the light out.

"Kitten? You coming?" Beau called from upstairs.

"I will be," you snicker to yourself as you climb the stairs.

Beau is sitting on the end of the bed, smiling when you lean in the doorway. The smile shifts, his gaze heavy as he looks you up and down. "This for me kitten?"

You nod, licking your lips. "Do you like it?"

"You look beautiful." His hands rub over his thighs, and he shifts, "come here baby. Please. Let me get a good look at you."

Pushing away from the door you approach the bed, doing a little turn just out of his reach. "I know it's your favorite color."

His hands land on your hips, pulling you between his legs. His touch is so gentle, lingering over your hips, fingertips tracing along the lace, the flat of his palms skimming up your stomach, thumbs brushing the curve of your breasts. Kisses land gently, your breath hitching, your fingers sliding into his hair tangling in the short strands.

"You are so, so good to me, kitten."

#wbskink #kinktober 2022 #Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson/Reader #Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson/you #Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x you #Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x reader #reader insert #top gun maverick fanfiction #shelly writes

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lieutenantfloyd · 1 year

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I don't know if anyone else has posted this, but Lauren Polizzi (the art director for TGM) has a lovely online portfolio where she shares some of her creative thought processes and details from movies she has worked on. Including lots of details, fun facts, many photos of The Hard Deck, the ready room, the hangar, and a few other scenes!

Not only is it really interesting to see what went on behind the scenes, but the photos are also great references if you make any type of fanwork! Above are a few of the set photos she published and below is a link to the full post. I highly suggest checking it out!

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rose-pearls · 11 months

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I think cyclone could use some attention, how about an one shot where Beau is set up on a blind date, who ends up being a pilot under his command in dagger squad. Cyclone and the reader are shocked to see each, and they decide to make most of the night (despite VERY uncomfortable beginning). They end up at together. But have to keep it on the download since the reader is a Lieutenant, and he is a vice admiral. They end up having to explain it to the rest of dagger squad.

Hi!! I loved your request and I hope you like it!! So sorry it took so long but midterms have been kicking my ass lately.

Top Gun Taglist: @bisexual-watermelons (open)

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open for every fandom)

He doesn’t know what he is doing here, god knows he should’ve known better then to let Warlock put him up on a date.

He wasn’t lonely, not as much as his friend thought. But as much as he tries to convince himself of that every day, he would be lying to himself. He did miss having a person that knew him inside and out and who would be there at home when he came back from work. He even misses the intimacy, not necessarily the sex, but just the cuddles and the soft touches when passing each other.

But he hated this part, not knowing who you are going to meet and feeling utterly scared at what was about to happen. An old lady had been looking at him curiously ever since he had arrived and he tried not to think of it, focusing on trying not to sweat through his shirt, he was a vice-admiral for god sake.

“Vice-Admiral Simpsons?”, the words are filled with surprise and as he looks up, he nearly faints at the sight of the woman in front of him.

“Lieutenant Floyd?”, the girl is looking at his with equally wide eyes and he tries to keep his breathing under control.

“What are you doing here?”, he asks after a moment, clearing his throat hoping that it would somehow get it to work properly.

“Admiral Bates told me to come here and meet my, uhm, my-”, the girl seems a bit uncomfortable to say the word to him, but Beau just nods his head slowly, mentally thinking of every way he could kill Warlock for this.

“For a blind date?”, she nods shily at his words before sitting down on the chair in front of him.

He can’t help but look at her, she is a beautiful woman, he had known that since he had seen her sitting in front of him when she had just started her training. She was also incredibly smart, which seemed to be running in the family as her brother was the best WSO in the business. Warlock knew what he was doing, Beau had always had some sort of attraction towards her, unable not to pay attention to her when she was in the room.

He hears her clear her throat and he can’t help the blush that creeps on his cheeks as he realizes that he had been looking at her for a moment now.

“Sorry, Lieut-”, he doesn’t finish the sentence as he realizes that they aren’t on base and that he doesn’t need to call her that.

He looks up as he hears her laugh softly before she whispers her name, a sweet smile on her lips that makes his heart race like when he was a teenager.

“Right, well call me Beau.”, he tells her, and she looks slightly nervous as she fidgets with the menu card.

“Not your usual setting either?”, she looks up at the question and he wants to kick himself, mentally telling himself that he should think before speaking but she somehow manages to make him lose all control.

“Not really, I’m busier with the Navy then with my dating life to be honest. Which is kind of sad when I say it out loud.”, she says with a shy smile and Beau can’t help but smile at the sight of it.

“Well seems like we already have one thing in common.”, she looks up at his words, surprise etched over her eyes as she looks at him.

“Really?”, it seems like she doesn’t believe him and Beau smiles at her bashful expression after the word.

“Well, the Navy is quite busy, especially these last few years.”, he tells her, feeling tired at the simple thought of everything he had to do the past years.

“Maverick keeping you busy?”, he hears the teasing tone in her voice but still he rolls his eyes at the question making her laugh.

“That man is taking more years of my life away every day.”, the laughter that follows makes him smile even wider, unable to hide it.

“He is quite the troublemaker.”, she says and Beau nods in agreement.

“That is an understatement.”, he doesn’t have time to ask her anything else before someone comes up to pick up their order and they find themselves scrambling to get the menu card and quickly look at it. He had been too busy paying attention to her that he hadn’t even thought about what he was going to eat.

“So, tell me about your day.”, she says, as if was as simple as that and after a moment of looking at her slightly dumbfound he starts to talk.

He doesn’t know how long they talk, probably far too long but he enjoys every second of it. Her laughter when he tells her the stories of when he was at the academy and her wide eyes with interest when he is telling her the most boring things. He can’t stop listening to her, watching her talk as she tells stories of her and Bob as children.

“I’m sorry to disturb you but we are going to be closing soon.”, the waitress looks a bit nervous as she stands there, and he looks at his watch to see that it is already nearing midnight.

“Of course! So sorry.”, she quickly says, and the waitress looks relieved as they start packing their stuff.

“Here is your bill.”, she says, and Beau gets ready to pay for the bill before he sees her getting her own wallet.

“I’ll pay for it.”, he says simply, and she looks at him with a slight frown.

“You don’t have to do that, we can split the bill.”, she says quickly, her head held high, and Beau can’t help but smile at the sight of her.

“I’m sure we can but I want to pay for it.”, he says, and she looks at him, slightly doubtful before letting out a quiet sigh.

“Fine but I’m paying next time.”, the words make butterflies erupt in his stomach, realizing that she does want to see him again. A red blush appears on her cheeks as she realizes what she just said before she stutters over her words.

“I- I mean if you want to of course.”, he doesn’t even hesitate a second at her words.

“Of course, I would, I mean I don’t even want to say goodnight to you right now.”, he realizes the way the words could be understood as and he feels his cheeks burn with a blush.

“You know some people would take that as an invitation Vice-Admiral Simpson.”, there is a coy grin on her lips and he feels the urge to kiss that smile away and make her say his title again, the way it rolls of her tongue so easily makes him crave her in a way he hasn’t felt before.

“Would you want it to be Lieutenant?”, he knows that they shouldn’t, this is just their first date but god he doesn’t know how he will be able to let her go at the end of the night. The thought of being able to kiss her skin and feel her skin against his makes his blood rush south.

“I could be convinced.”, there is that teasing smile that doesn’t seem to leave her lips and a moment later he finally gets to kiss them, feel the softness of them against the cold wind on his skin.

There is that smile that doesn’t seem to leave her lips and his, but he never wants to not see her smile.

“As much as it is tempting to take you home and trust me it is. How about we go on another date first?”, he asks her softly, looking at her sparkling eyes in the moonlight.

“Sounds like a perfect plan. Text me or call me, quickly.”, she seals the last word with a kiss before leaving him there, slightly dazed. She looks back a few times before she has to turn the corner and Beau wishes that she didn’t have to leave that soon.

He ignores Warlock’s knowing gaze when he comes into work the next morning and particularly the day after their second date, still feeling high on the adrenaline of the night before and that morning.

“It seems like everything is going well.”, Warlock says, with his most innocent gaze, which doesn’t work, and Beau tries to ignore him.

“Not a word.”, he decides to say, trying to keep on a straight face but ultimately failing as a smile appears at the thought of her.

He sees her during the day, it’s a blessing and a curse at the same time to have her this close to him but not being able to say anything.

They had agreed to keep it under wrap as he was still her superior and she was also part of the Dagger Squad with her brother on it.

“You know, Bob is wondering where I am spending all of my time lately.”, she whispers one night, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along his skin.

“What did you tell him?”, he asks, wondering what excuse she could’ve found to explain her absence.

“Just that I was busy, but I don’t think he will be leaving me alone about it.”, she tells him, and he knows what she is trying to say.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to tell him?”, he asks her softly, wondering how the quiet WSO would react at the news of his older sister dating him.

“I think so, he told me that he admires you and he has no issues with me dating someone.”, she tells him, and Beau can’t help but feel prideful at the thought of the WSO admiring him.

“Alright, might as well do it now. But only him.”, he can’t help but laugh at the squeal she lets out before being smothered with kisses.

“Thank you! You will love Bob!”, she tells him as if he doesn’t know him, but he lets her talk about everything that they could do together.

“I’ll call him.”, she tells him a little bit later, he can hear the sleepiness in her voice and after a moment he hears her soft snores filling up the room.

“Now, Bobby, I want you to approach this with an open mind.”, you tell your brother, trying to calm down your nerves as he looks at you with raised eyebrows.

“I’m starting to get really scared.”, he says, and you try to shake your head, taking his hand and squeezing it in reassurance.

“Don’t you worry, you will like him.”, you simply say, looking across the Hard Deck towards the door and a moment later Beau arrives making you so excited that you accidently squeeze Bob’s hand to strongly.

“Aw! How strong are you?”, he says as he rubs his hand and you look at him with apologetic eyes, knowing that he isn’t mad.

“Alright Bobby, this is my boyfriend.”, you declare, and Bob turns around to find Beau in front of him. You don’t know what you were expecting but not your brother getting up and salute Beau.

“Sir.”, your boyfriend seems to find it funny as he tells him that it isn’t necessary and sitting down next to you. Bob scrambles back on his chair, looking between the two of you for a few minutes, you can feel Beau’s uneasiness at the staring.

“Thank god.”, Bob sighs and he seems to deflate, making you look at him with wide eyes.

“What do you mean ‘thank god’?”, you ask him, wondering who your little brother could have possibly thought you would’ve brought.

“I thought you were bringing Bagman.”

“Ieuw! Bob!”, you screech and your brother snorts at your reaction while Beau seems disgusted at the words.

“I’m sorry but you were being so secretive I thought of the worst-case scenario.”, Bob tells you, shrugging his shoulders and you can’t help but shake your head.

“So, I suppose that I’m not the worst-case scenario?”, your boyfriend asks and Bob smiles sheepishly.

“I think that you are a good man, as long as you treat her well there is no problem. But hurt her and I’ll make sure no one can find your body.”, Bob threatens, and you smile at the protectiveness of your little brother, Beau immediately agrees and before you know it the three of you are talking.

“What do we have here?”, you suddenly hear behind you and the three of you turn around to find the entire Dagger Squad looking at you with wide eyes.

“What do you want Hangman?”, you hear Bob say and the blond aviator smirks in response.

“Just wondering what the three of you are doing here on such a fine evening, without us.”, there is a pout on his lips that is as fake as the plants in the Hard Deck.

“Cry me a river Bagman.”, Bob says, and you can’t help but laugh softly at your brother’s annoyance. Hangman had been trying to annoy him since the start and recently Bob had been going against him making the blond aviator even more interested in him. Your little brother seemed obvious to it, but the cocky pilot had been trying to get in his pants since the start.

“Bagman is right for once, I’m also kind of curious.”, Phoenix says while ignoring Hangman’s winning smile and sitting next to Bob, making Hangman pout.

“Well, it’s a bit of a secret.”, you try to say and immediately the whole Dagger Squad sits down, eyes wide open like you were about to tell them all about a new plane.

“We are dating.”, you simply state as Beau puts his arm around your shoulders. There is a moment of silence before the whole group erupts in chatter except for Bob.

“Wait, what?!”

“You two are dating?”

“You didn’t tell me Bobby?”, you hear Hangman screech, and you can’t help but laugh at your brother rolling his eyes.

“Stop being dramatic, she just told me five minutes ago.”, Bob tells him, and the rest of the Dagger Squad turns to look at you.

“This has to stay under wrap, at least until you are all not under my command anymore. Is that clear?”, Beau asks and the whole squad agrees, looking at you with excited smiles.

“Scouts honor.”, Hangman says and the whole squad snorts at his words.

“Now tell us how it all started.”, Phoenix says, looking excited at the prospect of hearing how it all happened.

“And give us the juicy details.”, Halo says with a smirk before Bob clears his throat.

“Please don’t.”, he says and before you can answer Hangman puts his hand on Bob’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry Bobby I’ll be there to support you.”, this makes everyone laugh and as Bob rolls his eyes in answer.

“So, it all started with Warlock.”, you start, with Beau helping you fill in the blanks.

You couldn’t have imagined how that first date was going to be like, but you hadn’t expected anything like this to happen. And now surrounded by all of these people that you liked you can’t help but think that this was what life was supposed to be like.

#top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #beau cyclone simpson #cyclone simpson #cyclone x reader #beau simpson #beau x reader

197 notes · View notes

callsign-dexter · 1 year

Text

Behind Closed Doors (18+)

Request: Hey sweetie 🥰 would you do an imagine for me where you're Phoenix's best friend and share an apartment with her (you're not a pilot) but have a secret relationship with Bradley which she doesn't know. One time you think you're alone at home when he is over so you have some fun, but when you both leave your room nearly naked you find her sitting there. You try to explain but she just glares at you both, but after a while she gives in and explains how happy she is for you?

Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x Simpson!Reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, swearing

First Installment- Behind Closed Doors

Second Installment- Out in the Open

Masterlist

You are a high school teacher at Miramar High School on base. You had already lived in California for some years now and were loving it but you needed a roommate, rent on a teacher's salary was hard. You debated on whether or not to get a roommate but didn't want to end up with someone strange or serial killer. You had almost given up when Natasha came to Top Gun looking for a place to stay she called you up, and you immediately said yes.

Natasha took you to the hard deck when you finally had the night off from grading papers and essays, that's when you met the handsome stranger with a mustache and a Hawaiian shirt. She said that she wanted you to meet her friends and fellow coworkers and you were all for it. You both walked into The Hard Deck on a Friday night and the first thing you see where a sea of khaki uniforms, flight suits, and civilian clothing. You weren't a stranger to The Hard Deck, not in the least bit, you had come here a lot with other teachers and friends. You were no stranger to the Navy, not the least bit either, your father being none other than Vice Admiral Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson. You had really thought about going into the Navy but decided against it since the love of teaching and helping kids won over. She dragged you over to her group of friends to say hello. They introduced themselves and you did to them but your gaze lingered on Bradley Bradshaw.

"Hey guys! This is my friend and roommate Y/N!" Natasha said over the loudness of the music and you gave them a wave.

"Hi, I'm Bob. Natasha has told us a lot about you." Bob spoke up first and you turned to look at her.

"All good things I hope." You answered but looked at her and you both smiled and she turned her head.

"Very good things. I'm Bradley." Bradley spoke up and you turned your head to meet his gaze and you could've sworn you fell in love right then and there. You both locked eyes and the rest was history. Your attention was torn away from him when another voice came through.

"I'm Jake. You can call me anytime. You’ll be remembering it when I have you screaming it later tonight. " Jake said with a smirk and you just rolled your eyes.

"I won't be calling you at all or screaming your name because I don't do cocky aviators. Just be glad Penny didn’t hear that." You told him and everyone's jaw dropped there weren't very many people that could take Jake down a peg but they found one person. Jake was silent but still had that stupid smirk on his face.

"Oh, I like her." Jake said then another voice came through.

"I like you. You got Jake to shut up for once. I'm Javy." Javy said and you smiled and said hi back. Finally the last one spoke up.

"My name is Mickey. Sorry for Jake's behavior now and in advance." Mickey said and you laughed.

"No worries. I know how to deal with over confident cocky jocks." You said and Bradley spoke up.

"Oh? What do you do?" He asked curiously and you smiled at him.

"I'm a high school teacher on base. I deal with a lot of teenage testosterone every day." You told him and somehow moved closer to him Natasha saw this and shook her head and moved to stand between you and him.

"I don't think so. You're not taking my best friend." She said and grabbed your arm dragging you away from him "You don't have a drink. We need to get you a drink." She said and dragged you to the bar. Penny came over and met you. You told her your order and Natasha ordered hers and everyone else's. While you wanted you and Bradley stole glances at each other. That's how it went on for the rest of the night. Natasha tried to keep you away from Bradley but every now and then you would make your way over to him and both of you would flirt. It was funny when Natasha noticed you weren't there and would find you and grab you and drag you away, you would smile at Bradley and wave.

By the time everyone was ready to go come most of everyone was drunk. Except you, Bob, and Bradley. Bob assured you that he would get everyone else home safely and you nodded and you told him you would take care of Natasha. Bob started to round up everyone else while you rounded up Natasha that's when Bradley came up to you.

"You need any help?" He asked you and you shook your head but spoke up before he could say anything.

"You can walk us to the car though." You said and he smiled. You would come back later and close out your tab. True to your word he walked you to your car while you put Natasha in the passenger side. She was mumbling incoherent words but you just shook your head and shut the door after making sure she was buckled in and went to the driver's side where Bradley stood. You leaned up against the door and he took your hands and held them.

"So is there a chance I'm going to see you again?" He asked you and you nodded.

"There is a very good chance." You smiled "Give me your phone." You said and he dropped your hands while he dug his phone out and you did the same you both exchanged phones and put your numbers in. He saw your lock screen and wall paper.

"Wait.... that's Cyclone on there. Why would he be on there?" He asked curiously but not mad. It was true your dad was on there it was taken when you had graduated college.

"Because he would be my dad." You said in a matter-in-fact tone. "Don't tell the others. Only you and Natasha know." You said.

"Your secret is safe with me." He said and handed your locked phone back to you and you did the same. You smiled and he opened the door to your Jeep Wrangler. You got in and rolled down the window once you turned the key.

"Have a nice night Bradley." You said with a soft smile and he smiled back.

"You too, Y/N Simpson." He said and you laughed softly and backed and headed back to the apartment. Natasha was knocked out.

You arrived back and woke her up and helped her inside. You made sure the window was closed and the car locked. You helped her to her bedroom where she fell on the bed and went to sleep, you just shook your head and removed her shoes and socks. As you were getting ready for bed your phone buzzed with a notification.

Bradley Bradshaw: I'm really glad to have met you tonight. Any chance I can take you on a proper date?

You: Absolutely. Tomorrow night?

Bradley Bradshaw: Really? Tomorrow night is perfect. Favorite choice of food?

You: I'm not picky but love Thai.

Bradley Bradshaw: It's a date. I'll pick you at 7. I'm looking forward to it. Have a good night.

You: Sounds perfect. I'm looking forward to it too. You have a goodnight too.

You smiled and plugged your phone in and laid down. Looking forward to tomorrow night.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Saturday morning rolled around and you were the first one up. You started making coffee and breakfast when Natasha rolled into the kitchen looking hung over.

"Good morning sunshine." You said in a normal voice but she winced and you chuckled and smirked.

"Oh my gosh. I shouldn't have let Mickey talk me into tequila shots." She said and sat down at the counter and put her head down. You felt bad for you really did.

"Yea I noticed." She looked up when something warm hit her hand.

"Thank you so much." She said and took sip and practically moaned.

"Hey listen. I have a date tonight at 7 tonight. I won't be home until late." You said and that perked her up.

"Oh? With who?" She asked and you smirked.

"Someone I met at the bar last night. We really hit off." You said and she started to try and guess who it was but you denied her each time. She dropped it when you placed pancakes, eggs, and bacon in front of her. "Eat up. It'll help with your hangover." You said and started to clean up.

Once you cleaned up you walked past her and pushed her a little bit and got ready for the day. You got dressed and started cleaning the house. Natasha was currently in her room curing a hangover which you didn't mind honestly. You told her that you were meeting your dad for lunch and she gave a thumbs up and you laughed and headed out to meet him.

You met him at a little cafe. It was a tradition you had every Saturday afternoon. You walked in and he got up and hugged you when you met him.

"Hi, daddy." You said to him.

"Hey, sweetheart." He replied and let you go as you both sat down. It was silent for a moment. The waiter came and took your order and they left. Then came back with your drinks.

"I have a date tonight." You told him and he looked at you from putting sugar in his coffee and you did the same.

"With who?" He asked taking a sip, you were hesitant but loved your dad.

"You know him. He's an aviator. Bradley Bradshaw." You said and he stopped drinking.

"Sweetheart-" He started but you stopped him.

"No Dad. I really like him and we're going on a date tonight. You will also not give him a hard time at work understand?" You said making it clear. Right now you sounded just like your father and he was proud of that, then again you dealt with testosterone filled teenage boys.

"I understand." He said just as your food arrived. You all ate and talked and once you were done he paid and you both left. He walked you to your car and hugged you and kissed your head. "Drive safe sweetheart. I love you" You smiled and let go of him.

"Of course Dad. I love you too." You both got in your cars and took off. You ran a couple of errands and stopped by work to grab something and then went home. When you got there Natasha was up and sitting on the couch watching TV with popcorn.

"How was your lunch with your father?" She asked and you smiled while putting away your stuff and kicking off your shoes. You walked to her and joined her on the couch and she passed you the popcorn bowl.

"It was good. Told him I had a date. He didn't get much say in it." You said taking a handful of popcorn. She laughed you were probably the only person to make Cyclone go silent. He would do anything for you. The rest of the day and leading up to 7 PM you sat on the couch with Natasha watching movies and gossiping.

When it hit 5:50 PM you started to get ready for your date with Bradley. You walked to your closest and stood there looking at it then an outfit you absolutely adored made its appearance. You grabbed it and other things and headed to the bathroom conjoined to your room. You took a shower and then applied light makeup and put on the outfit. Your outfit was a pair of jeans with a cute flowing blue short-sleeve shirt. You looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled you were ready. Your hair was naturally wavy so you didn't have to do anything to it.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

7 PM came around and Natasha had other plans so it all worked out. Bradley came to the apartment door and knocked, you opened the door and he had flowers in his hands and that made you smiled.

"You're so beautiful." Bradley said and you blushed.

"Thank you." You replied.

"These are for you. I hope you like them." He said and gave you the flowers.

"They're beautiful. I love them. I'm just going to put them in a vase." You said and did just that and welcomed him in. You had your back to him when he started to speak.

"I found this awesome Thai place just right outside of the base. You're going to love it." He finished as you turned around and smiled.

"I've heard some good things about it. I've always wanted to go there but never have the time." You told him and he smiled.

"Well I'm glad I'm the first one that will be taking you." He said "You ready to go?" He asked and you nodded.

"Absolutely." You said and the both of you headed out the door and to his Bronco. You got there and he opened the door for you like a true gentleman. He shut the door and got into the driver's side and started it up and started to drive toward the restaurant.

You arrived at the restaurant and he killed the engine and got out and was at your door before you could get your hand on the handle. He held out his hand and you took it letting him guide you out and into the restaurant. You were taken back to your seats and sat down.

"So how do you know Natasha?" He asked you and you smiled.

"I met her when she first came to Top Gun. We hit it off pretty well. I was going to school and helping Penny out. She moved on but we stayed in contact." You said and never nodded. "I hope my dad isn't giving you any problems." You said to him as the waiter came over and took your drink orders.

"No, he's not." He laughed slightly. The waiter came back with your drinks and you were ready to order which you both did. "Does Nat know you're on a date with me?" He asked you and you shook your head.

"No, she does not but my dad does. Don't worry he's ok with it." You said when you saw his panicked face. "What do you say we keep this to ourselves and see how long it takes people to figure out?" You asked him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Let's do it. Nat is going to flip her lid." He said and your food arrived. You ate and talked making easy conversation.

The night ended too fast in your opinion because the next thing you knew you were back at your apartment. He gave you a goodnight kiss on the cheek and you both said that you would like to do it again.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

This is how it went on for 7 months but each time it got more intimate and staying over at his apartment started, you couldn't stay at your apartment because of Natasha. You both would be sneaking around behind Natasha's back but everyone else knew. Everyone else knew because they figured it out especially when you came to give your dad something during your lunch break and waved at Bradley, who smiled and waved back. Nobody else knew you were a Simpson either but they found out that day.

You had just walked into the building where your dad worked. You saw the group of pilots, besides Natasha. They saw you walk in and then Bradley locked eyes with you, you smiled and waved which he returned. You walked off towards the offices and everyone turned to Bradley.

"What was that?" Jake spoke up just as surprised as everyone else.

"You're going to have to be more specific Jake. She waved and I waved back." Bradley said while looking back down at the work that laid in front of him.

"Oh no. That wasn't just a wave to say that was a wave like you've been together and been sleeping around." Javy spoke up and Bradley stayed quiet not wanting to give anything away.

"Wait....... are you dating her?" Javy asked but Bradley stayed quiet.

"You are!" Jake practically screamed

"Keep your voice down." Bradley said finally looking over at the pilots. He didn't get to speak much more because Cyclone came walking in with his always neutral look and you on his left side. Everyone shoots up and at attention.

"At ease." He said and everyone relaxed and sat down. "This is my daughter, Y/N. I'm dropping her off here right now before she has to go back to work and because I need to get to a meeting. Be nice to her." He said and turned to you.

"If I don't see you again after I get out of this meeting, be safe driving back and I love you." He said and kissed you on the cheek everyone was surprised.

"I will. I love you too." You said as you pulled away from kissing his cheek. He turned and walked off. Everyone was looking at you. After making sure he was truly gone you tackled Bradley in a hug and kissed him hard. Everyone was shocked.

"Oh stop your staring. We're fine with it as along as Nat doesn't know. She'll flip her lid." You told them and they all nodded. You sat on Bradley's lap and you all talked about anything and everything until you looked down at your watch. "Oh shit! I got to go!" You said and scrambled off of Bradley "I'll text you." You told him and you were out the door. As you were hurrying Natasha popped up but you didn't have time to stop and chat. "Hey, Nat. Bye, Nat. I'm late." You said and she waved as you sped down the hallway. She just laughed.

Back in the room, everyone was shocked. Jake quickly got over it and a sly smirk came on his face. "You sly dog. You're fucking her aren't you?" He said and Bradley couldn't help but smile. "I can't believe you're hooking up with the Vice Admiral's daughter." He continued "Does he know?" He asked and Bradley nodded his head.

"She told him that we were going on a date. She said that he was good with it." Bradley said looking up at him just as soon as Natasha walked in having not heard any of the conversation and it was dropped but they gave Bradley a knowing look.

Every now and then Bradley would come up to meet you in your classroom just to see you or have lunch with you. On many occasions, he was still there when students started to roll in. Many of the female students stood there gawking at the handsome male aviator, who was either in his flight suit or khaki uniform.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Natasha did find out a week after that. It had just become your and Bradley’s 8-month anniversary of dating. You had thought she was going to be gone for most of the morning staying at the base for something she had to do that night, even though it was a Saturday night and Sunday morning. You thought you were clear and you were for the night but not the morning when she came back earlier than what was planned.

You and Bradley had just come back from dinner and sat down on the couch and turned on a random movie. You both weren't paying attention to it too busy with each other. It started with you wanting to watch the movie but then Bradley started by kissing your neck and then he was slowly turning you so that you were facing him. The kissing was slow and passionate. You could feel his one hand that wasn't holding your neck start to creep up your thigh.

"Wait wait." You said and he pulled back with a confused look on his face.

"Is something wrong?" He asked sounding hurt.

"No nothing is wrong everything is perfect. But if we're going to have hot passionate sex I want it to be in the bedroom and not on the couch." You said and watched his face relax.

"You got it, darlin." He said while effortlessly picking you up which made you let out a squeal and clung to him. He started to kiss you again and you kissed back. You could feel how hard he was getting and it only turned you on more. He stumbled his way to your room all of a sudden you felt the mattress on your back and he climbed on top of you kissing you and touching you. It was all too much but it was perfect.

"You're perfect darling." He said as he slowly took your shirt off followed by your bra. He attached to your left nipple and started sucking and gently biting it, which had you moaning and grabbing his head. Your fingers raked his scalp. He moaned and that sent vibrations through your body. He pulled off your left nipple and gave the right one the same attention.

"Bradley." You moaned his name. You could feel him smirking he suddenly pulled off and kissed down your sternum to the start of your jeans and then he started to unbutton the buttons looking up at you.

"You're amazing. You deserve everything." He said while looking up at you as he took off your jeans and underwear and you lifted up helping him.

"You're amazing too. You should be shown appreciation too." You said starting to get up but he wouldn't let you. He quickly shed his clothing and climbed on top of you. He kissed you and you kissed back then he attacked your neck which had you a moaning mess. He quickly made his way down your sternum and to where you needed him the most.

"Later but now it's all about you." He said and you could feel his breath hit your vagina. He licked a broad stripe up and you let out a photographic moan and you felt him smirk. You were wet already but this just made you wetter. He kept going and then he was suckinf on your clit which had that familiar rubber band feeling coming to you. Occasionally he would tease your opening with your tongue. What made that rubber band snap was when he gently bit your clit and your vision turned white and stars could be seen.

After a few minutes, you came down from your high and he was crawling up and kissing you letting you taste yourself. You only broke apart when you needed air. "You're amazing." You told him and he smikred.

"You are too." He replied as he moved one hand down to his now leaking pre-cum cock giving it a pump and lining up with your entrance and pushing in. You threw your head back and your hands when to his back and raked your nails down his back leaving marks, he hissed out but in pleasure. "You're always so tight. It's like you were made for me." He said through the pleasurable pain.

"Oh fuck." You moaned out "More." You said almost demanding.

"Yes, ma'am." He said loving that you were making orders. He started to thrust into you and he hit you in all the right places. He brought one hand to catch both of your wrists in his large hands and brought them up above your head. He started to attack your neck with hot passionate kisses. He used his other hand to attack your sensitive clit which had you spreading your legs further. By doing that he started thrusting deeper and hit your g-spot. You were quickly coming to your second orgasm. "I'm close darling." He said and you knew it was true by his thrusts getting sloppily.

"Cum in me." You said and he nodded. He started to pick up his speed in thrusting and on your clit until you both hit your peak. His hips stilled as his cum painted your walls rope and rope and you came on his cock.

You both came down and he gently pulled out and laid next to you and you laid your head on his chest. The room smelt of sex and all that could be heard was both of you heavy breathing. "I'm so glad to be with you. I love you." You said and he dropped a kiss on your forehead.

"Me too darling. I love you too." He replied and both of you fell asleep.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

It was the next morning and neither of you had to work since it was a Sunday. So you decided to pay Bradley a favor and show him the attention he deserved. You woke up before him and slowly kept down until you were at his flaccid cock. You slowly wrapped your hand around him and started to pump him until he was semi-hard, he started to moan but he was sleeping still. He took him in your mouth and started bobbing up and down and dipping your tongue into his slit. He started to thrust into your mouth and you hallowed your cheeks to take him further. It was a good thing that your gag reflex was almost nonexistent.

Bradley slowly opened his eyes and looked down at you. You had your eyes closed but sensed he was watching you and opened them and looked at him through your lashes. He put one hand on your head but didn't press down. He was close. He was moaning and almost panting. "Yes, Darling. I'm close." He said After a few minutes, you came up for air, but immediately went back and swirled your tongue around his tip, and that is what sent him over the edge. He came into your mouth, and you could taste his salty cum and swallowed it all. You pulled off of him when he was down and wiped the excess into your mouth. "What was that for?" He asked you.

"Well, you took such good care of me last night that I decided to repay you the favor." You said and he pulled you up to him and kissed him. He could taste himself. You pulled away for air.

"Get dressed, I'll make breakfast." He said and helped you get up. You slipped on your underwear after you found it, and on his oversized shirt, you forfeited the bra. He got up and pulled on his boxers. As he followed you out into the hallway you stopped short, because right in front of you in the kitchen was none other than your roommate, Natasha Trace. You stood there like a deer caught in headlights.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

"Natasha. I thought you weren't supposed to be back until later this morning." You said and grabbed a pair of sweatpants that just so happened to be in the hamper. Bradley had gone back to the room and grabbed his pants. You were wearing his shirt so he forgot about it, it's not like she hasn't seen him thought a shirt.

"I got done early." She said slowly back "What is Bradley doing here? Why are you wearing his shirt?" She asked she had a feeling what the answer was going to be.

"I think you should sit down." Bradley said from behind you and you both walked into the kitchen and you both sat down on the barstool and she sat down at the table.

"Ok. I'm sitting." She said glaring at the two of you.

"I'm just gonna come out and say it." You said, "Bradley and I have been dating for 8 months." You finished and waited for her to blow up but she was just glaring at the two of you.

"Do the others know?" Natasha asked and you nodded.

"They found out last week when I went to drop something off to dad." You said.

"Why was I the last to know?" She asked still glaring.

"I know you wanted me to stay away from him but he's been so sweet to me. I know you were just trying to protect but Nat, I love him." You said she was still glaring but nodded and then turned her attention to Bradley.

"If you dare hurt her or break her heart. I'll be coming after you. I know where you sleep, and work, and you know how I am in the air. Not to mention I know her father." She said to him and he nodded.

"I'm not planning on doing any of those things. I love her too much." Bradley said looking at you dreamily and you looked back at him with the same look. Natasha saw this and finally stopped glaring.

"I am really happy for you guys. Still upset that I was the last to know, but that can be settled with you two buying me a drink at The Hard Deck." She said and you both looked at her and nodded.

"Deal." You and Bradley said at the same time.

"I'm gonna start making breakfast. Nat why don't you go and change?" Bradley said and she nodded and got up and headed off down the hallway. As she was walking she called over her shoulder.

"You better not have fucked anywhere in the kitchen or on the couch!"

You both laughed and shook your heads. You haven't yet but time will tell.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

#bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun fandom #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick #top gun fan fiction #top gun fic #top gun fics #beau simpson x daughter!reader #cyclone x daughter!reader

338 notes · View notes

foreverrandomwritings · 11 months

Text

Worth It In The End

Summary: Almost a year after an amicable divorce Beau finds himself still reluctant to participate in social gatherings. However he just can't seem to say no to the Bates family. He finds more than he bargained for when he attends their annual Halloween party.

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Divorce, children, marriage counseling, alcohol, fake blood and Beau being a bit of a dumbass.

Word count: 2387

Masterlist

Beau had been particularly annoyed at every social gathering he had attended this year. Everyone asked where his now ex wife was and then he had to awkwardly explain they had divorced. They had spent the better part of two years in couples therapy that ended up being an epic fail at the end. Frankly he wasn’t really sure why he had gone to his fellow admirals annual Halloween party. The plan had been to stay home and nurse a bottle of whiskey and watch old black and white films.

But when his best friend all but pleaded that he be in attendance he relented and showed up. He had even adorned a costume, a cheap vampire costume from Spirit Halloween. Pale makeup had been caked on his face by Warlock's thirteen year old twin daughters. Black eye shadow around his eyes to give a hollowed out effect and fake blood dripped down his chin. They had even coerced him into adding fangs to his teeth.

“Are you actually going to eat something or are you going to just stand here glaring a hole into all the food?” He had been standing by the snack table for what felt like hours trying to figure out what he could eat that wouldn't have his fangs coming out of his mouth, the glue holding them in place was very delicate he had been told.

“Mallory and Stephanie talked me into putting fangs in then lectured me for a good thirty minutes about not eating anything that could pop them off my teeth. I am trying to figure out what would be soft enough to not heed the wrath of your daughters.” Beau gave Solomon a pointed glare, to which the man let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head in a disapproving manner.

“How in the world did the Navy allow you to be an admiral when you get swindled into things by teenagers?” Solomon’s voice was teasing as he picked up a chocolate dipped pretzel rod and took a large bite of it. Beau cursed the teeth he had been swindled into as he glared at the pretzel rod.

“Those girls are very persuasive Solomon and you know it.” Beau’s eyes narrowed at the man as he took another large bite of the pretzel. The white that was to look like a mummy was almost all consumed by the man.

“I think you’re just a pushover Beau. Have been since the girls were born.” A smile graced both of the men's features at the memory of the mid winter day the girls were born. The same day that Solomon had asked him to be the twins' godfather. Which he had graciously accepted. The second they were placed in his arms he knew he wouldn’t be able to say no to them.

“You don’t have much room to talk.” Beau looked down at the cowboy costume Solomon was wearing. Him and his wife were dressed as Barbie and Ken per the request of said daughters.

“Touche, Beau, Touche.” Solomon held his hands up in defense two more chocolate covered pretzels held in one hand. The black eyes of the mummy seemed to mock him.

“Oh Beau there you are. I’ve been looking all over the place for you.” Solomon's wife popped up from behind him at the words. She came to stand next to her husband and gave them both a mischievous smile. His eyebrows both shot up at the look she was giving him. The girls had definitely gotten their power of persuasion from their mother.

“I have someone I’d like you to meet.” he tried to hide the surprise from his face but guessed he had failed as his best friend gave him a cheeky knowing grin. He should’ve guessed there was an ulterior motive for Solomon being so persistent on his attendance tonight.

“She is actually on her way over to us right now so please behave.” With those words you walked into sight. You had on an obnoxious Hawaiian shirt and a name tag that Beau couldn’t read due to the dimmed lights of the room. You stuck your hand out with a small smile on your face as she introduced the two of you. He couldn’t help but take in the absolute beauty you were. Hair tied in a half up bun, makeup done ever so slightly, eyes bright and smile wide.

“Honey, I think we need to go and fill up the fog machines.” Solomon put a hand on the small of his wives back before leading her away from Beau and you. But not before the couple sent you both respective winks. To which you both rolled your eyes at.

“I like the fake blood.” The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. He struggled to not bring a hand up to his chin where the bright red liquid had surely stained his skin. He took in the rest of your outfit quickly, the sunglasses tucked into your hair even though it was night time, the sandals adorning your feet and the solid colored flowy pants that matched the leaves in the Hawaiian shirt you were wearing.

“I have no idea how I’m gonna get this stuff off later.” The sentence was true, the girls hadn’t told him how to clean the makeup. The only thing they had told him was to not mess it up. Mallory had actually pointed a sharply pointed end of a makeup brush his way while Stephanie uttered the words to him, a threat more than a suggestion.

“A wet washcloth should do the trick just fine. If not then a few makeup wipes should help.” You had cocked your head to the side as you assessed the cheap pale layer that had been smeared across his face. He racked a hand through his hair, working loose some of the hair gel that had been slathered on the dark locks.

“Thank you for the tip. I’ll be sure to file that information down for later.” He gave you a thankful smile to which you waved your hand in a dismissive way, as if to say no problem. It was that moment he noticed just how much younger than him you seemed to be. A little bit of worry gnawed on his brain.

“How do you know Gina and Solomon?” You picked up a glass of punch that had been pre-filled after eyeing the ingredients and scanned the table of snacks as you asked the question. He shifted from one foot to the other as he answered the often asked question. Relief flooding through him that you were a new person, meaning you weren’t going to ask about his ex wife.

“I’ve known Solomon for years through work. How do you know the couple?” He took a sip of the Jack and Coke he had snagged from the kitchen earlier in the night as he once again eyed your outfit. This time he could read the word on your name tag which simply said City.

“I actually ran into Gina a couple of months ago at the library. I was donating a few of my books. She happened to be doing volunteer work reading for the little ones. We struck up a conversation over my work. She then graciously invited me to her book club and we’ve been friends ever since.” Your eyes lit up as you finally found a suitable food grabbing a plate with a cheesy spider web design and adding a few fruits, vegetables, cookies and plain pretzels.

“You said you were donating your books. Were they ones you’ve read enough to be satisfied to donate or ones you’ve had forever and never gotten around to reading?” You picked up a snap pea from your plate, peeling away the string and snapping off the ends.

“I actually wrote a children's book. I was dropping off a few copies of it!” Beau let out a surprised hum at your response. Taking in the way your eyes got slightly wider on the topic of your work. You ate the snap pea quickly before working on the next one on your plate.

“Have you written many books?” He decided he wanted to keep the light in your eyes so he would ask you as many questions as he could think of. Plus it got the topic off him, when people heard about his work they typically questioned him relentlessly about it.

“This was the second book in the series. I am contracted for two more of this series before being able to move on.” you seemed to ponder what you said for a second before adding on.

“Not that I want to move on from it. I have actually grown quite attached to the characters. I know my brother is just as reluctant to move on as I am.” you popped a strawberry into your mouth at the end of your sentence.

“Is your brother a co-author?” He watched as you cleaned the corner of your mouth with your thumb before wiping the liquid on your napkin he hadn’t seen you pick up. He found himself already desperate to feel your lips against his own. But quickly shook his head to clear the thought away, focusing on your conversation once again.

“He is actually an illustrator, thankfully. I was dreading having to find an artist when he stepped up.” a grin took over your features at the mention of your brother. Another topic seemingly important to you he decided, filing it away for later.

“I’m assuming you work for the Navy?” he straightened his body a little bit, pride evident in the way he held himself. Even if he was reluctant to talk about his job he seemed to want to please you in any way he could. Plus he was very proud of the position he held.

“I am Vice Admiral at the local base.” Even with the cheap costume on you could see the way he flexed his arms and chest as he spoke the words. Seemingly puffing himself up with authority. You weren’t complaining though, drinking in the way he simply existed in this moment.

“Oh you’re Cyclone then!” The realization seemed to hit you in one foul swoop. From the look on his face you could tell he was confused. Your cheeks heated as he gave you a bit of a bewildered look.

“Gina and the girls talk about you all the time. They all absolutely adore you. I can see why.” Beau preened under the praise. Something he didn’t even know he was capable of until you uttered those words.

“Would you like to get dinner with me sometime?” It was his turn to blurt out words. He couldn’t help himself with the way your eyes scanned his form. Then he remembered just how ridiculous he looked and he felt his throat closing slightly.

“I would actually love to have dinner with you. I’m free this Friday if that works for you?” Your eyes crinkled at the side from how wide you were smiling, teeth on full display, lip gloss shining slightly in the dim light from the pumpkin lights lining the top of the room.

“Friday works great, do you have anywhere in mind?” He wasn’t really sure of any good restaurants around town. He hadn’t been out much since even before his amicable divorce. He preferred eating at home rather than going out.

“We could make dinner together at my place. That way we can actually get to know each other without the awkwardness of being in public?” You were nervous as you asked the question, taking a large gulp of the untouched punch you had set down on the table beside you. The flimsy material of the cup with a matching spider web as the plate you had, left with an indent from your teeth as you chewed on it anxiously waiting for his response.

“Dinner at your place sounds lovely. I can bring a bottle of wine if you’d like?” Your shoulders released some of the tension they held as he agreed to your proposition. You nodded in reply to the question, losing a breath as you did so.

“I’ll give you my number and we can decide a time and what to have tomorrow.” You set the plate of mostly eaten food on the table. Then slipped your phone out of your back pocket, unlocking it and handing it to him. He typed in his number quickly before sending out a quick text to himself. He then slipped his phone from his own pocket, asked you how to spell your name and then added you to his contacts.

“Can I ask you a question?” He seemed almost sheepish as he spoke, you simply gave him a reassuring nod telling him to go ahead.

“What in the world are you dressed as?” you giggled at his words, your fingers playing with one of the buttons on your shirt.

“I guess it isn’t as obvious as I hoped it would be. I’m dressed as Paradise City. The Guns N’ Roses song.” Recognition dawned on him as he took you in once more, the outfit fit for a beach and the City name tag did kind of give it away.

“Guess I was too distracted by your beauty to figure it out.” He wasn’t sure where he got the confidence to say the words from but he was happy he did. The way your nose crinkled at the compliment and your feet shifted told him you seemed just as nervous as he did. Which gave him some relief.

You guys ended up talking for the rest of the night, eventually moving away from the snack table to the porch outside, where he gave you his cape to fight off the slight chill of the October night. You promised to give it back to him when you saw him Friday as you climbed into your car and he waved you off telling you he wasn’t worried about you stealing it. Which you would laugh about years down the road as you had never given the cape back, it had ended up finding a home in your closet instead. He decided it was worth it in the end.

A/N: This little piece was written for the Rocktober event @roosterforme is hosting! Thank you everyone for reading! As always likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell @kmc1989

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