#iceman oneshot

[witchwyfe]

here with me - tik

pairing - college! Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x female reader

précis - mav makes a bet during the soccer's teams getaway.

content/warnings - language, annoyance towards maverick, fluff

word count - 933

a/n - college soccer player ice series

“Okay, you know this is actually really stupid.” You complain, curled up in the backseat of Carole’s car. “Everyone else wants to sleep together, why can’t we?”

“You know how the guys are,” Ice huffs from the other end of the phone. “They’re turning it into a competition.”

“Yeah, and who’s idea was it?” You scoff. “Maverick’s. He’s single and an asshole, he doesn’t have any stake in the game, of course he would propose something like this.”

Something like this being, for your autumn break trip to a cabin, sleeping arrangements are all girls together, and all boys together. Despite the fact, that the trip is made up of some of the soccer team, and their girlfriends. Mav even thought it would be funny to have whoever caves first, buy everyone dinner on the last night.

You sigh loudly, ignoring Carole’s chuckle from the driver’s seat. Her and Goose finally got their shit together, and they’ve been happily dating since summer. 

“And of course you won’t crack, because you love to win.” You whine pitifully, more to yourself than your boyfriend. “I’ll see you when we get there.”

You hang up and shove your phone into your purse, leaning your head against the window, watching a flurry of orange as you pass a multitude of trees.

Not much more time passes before you’re pulling up at the cabin, clearly the last ones there, if the amount of cars shoved into the dirt driveway, is anything to go by.

Ice, Goose, and Slider are quick to come out and help with the bags in the back of Carole’s trunk.

“Hiya honey,” Goose greets, before dipping Carole in a dramatic kiss. You turn to see Ice, and pout, before falling into his arms.

“Hey baby,” He murmurs, pressing a kiss at your hairline. 

“Icey,” You whine. “Missed you.”

“Pretty girl.” He coos. “I missed you too.”

Following a week of mid-terms, you’d barely gotten to see your boyfriend. Both of you had stacked schedules with exams and papers, and Ice had a big game right before break began. You were looking forward to a long weekend with him, snuggled into his arms while you sleep, the way you hadn’t been able to. 

His arms squeeze easily around your waist, and he lifts you a bit until you can’t help but smile. You fist your hands in the material of his sweatshirt. 

“Was lookin’ forward to sleeping with you this weekend.” You tell him quietly. “I didn’t sleep well last week.”

“I know, me too.” He says, lips at your temple. “I’m sorry angel.”

“Not your fault your friends are stupid.”

He chuckles, squeezing you one more time before setting you down. He grabs your duffel bag and purse, waiting for you to shut your car door, before heading inside.

“Carole and I are sharing a room, I think,” You frown. “That’s what Marcy said in the group chat.” Marcy, Slider’s girlfriend, was also very upset about the sleeping arrangements, had coordinated which room everyone is staying in. Your boyfriend nods and continues in, before stopping at a room and gently setting your bags down.

You notice two beds, neither much bigger than a twin, but still an upgrade from the college dorm bed Ice had snuck in, to share with you countless times the previous year. 

“Look baby,” You whine. “We could totally fit in here, you always cuddle up anyway.”

“I know, sweet girl,” He soothes with a kiss to your temple. 

Carole comes in a second later, Goose rolling her suitcase while she spouts similar complaints that you had.

“Just because Mav isn’t getting any, doesn’t mean he has to ruin it for the rest of us.” She huffs, crossing her arms against her chest. Goose barely bites back his snort, throwing his head back in laughter before Carole sticks a withering glare on him. 

You nod in agreement, turning towards her. “That’s what I was just telling him, I mean why did anyone invite him anyway? He’s fucking annoying.”

“Okay,” Ice warns softly. “Not that I don’t currently share the sentiment, but Mav’s room is right down the hall and I’m sure he can hear us.”

You roll your eyes but oblige, leaning into him. “Are we allowed to sit together on the couch at least?”

You packed everything you need for your night time routine and to sleep. Your face is washed, teeth are brushed, and now you’re scrolling on your phone, trying to chill before bed. Carole had long snuck out of your room and into Goose’s—you wish your boyfriend didn’t take everything so seriously. Goose laughed in Mav’s face when he proposed the competition—so it’s too quiet and you don’t have anyone to talk to. Right in the middle of your scroll through Tik Tok, your phone buzzes with a text.

I miss u

You smile, imagining your boyfriend curled up in his bed, missing you enough to send you text. 

Come in

You respond.

Carole left. We can push the beds together :) 

He sends back:

We don’t need that much room.

Less than a minute later, your door is being pushed open and your boyfriend, clad in boxers and an old crewneck is suddenly sliding in behind you, arms circling your waist. 

“Missed you.” He mumbles into your neck, the tip of his nose cold against the skin. 

“You’re not allowed to agree to any of Mav’s dumb bets, ever again.” You grumble. “Last time you had to bleach your hair and now this.”

“I know baby,” He coos. “No more, I promise.”

© witchwyfe 2024. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

[ddejavvu]

hi! can i request iceman x fem!reader where they’re on their first date and reader can’t get enough of how fine he looks and how good he smells, pls?

Dancing is the last thing you thought you'd be doing on your first date with Tom. Drinking, sure. Kissing, you could dare to dream. Sitting down at a fancy restaurant, maybe. And to his credit, you did enjoy a nice dining experience, but he'd led you into a little club afterwards. It isn't a bar, there's no reeling drunkards passed out on the dance floor. No, it's more sophisticated than that, a live band playing in the corner while couples dance together.

The music that's playing now is reminiscent of swing, and Tom is surprisingly good at the style of dance to go with it. You're taking his lead, letting him step and push and pull and twirl, all with that dazzling smile on his face.

"You're wonderful at dancing!" You marvel as he hooks a hand around your waist, pulling it flush to his own. It means you get a nose-full of his cologne, sharp and musky and something you want on your bedsheets.

"It's hard not to be when you're so wonderful to dance with," He croons, practically purring inches away from your face. His smile is almost more intoxicating than his scent, and you're lucky your knees don't give out. What your face does isn't much help, though, as it blooms into a grin so bashful that you have to duck your head to hide it from him.

"Hey," He chuckles, using his grip on your waist to maneuver you towards the side of the room, dancing coming to a halt, "That's not fair, I want to see your face."

He hooks a finger under your chin and lifts it so that his nose nearly brushes yours. You're even more sheepish now as he hums, "What is it, angel?"

"I don't know," You shrug, biting your bottom lip, "it's just- Well," You gush, "I'm having a really great time. And you're- you must be the most handsome man I've ever gone out with."

He laughs at the admission, a deep, sweet sound from his chest. You should probably feel embarrassed admitting it, but not enough to deny him the compliment, and you press on in case his grin will get any wider.

"And you smell amazing," You laugh, "letting him pull your waist closer to his, "I'm just impressed, that's all."

"Yeah? Well that's good," He muses, "'Cause you know I used this cologne to impress you. I was hoping," He bows his own head now, laughing towards his chest, "That maybe you'd put your head on my shoulder."

Your cheeks get hotter, if possible, as he continues, "Like this."

He smooths his hand up from your chin to your cheek, guiding your head to lay against his chest. It puts your nose in his collarbones and he feels your breath over his shirt. The music works with you, transitioning into a slower paced song that the dancers mirror. All of a sudden you're back on the floor, swaying in time with your head on his chest and his arms around your waist.

"So it worked?" He murmurs, carefully avoiding standing on your toes even though you're only inches apart.

"It worked," You press a quick kiss to the collar of his shirt and he feels it beneath the fabric, "I think I want to stay here forever, Tom."

[carmenell]

─ Tulips . Icemav

( cw ) ; iceman/maverick, domestic fluff, established relationship

( tw ) ; none

( ++ ) ; 441 words, for @yukaisbrainrottingoversanegiyuu, ao3

Ice comes home frustrated from a long day of work, unbeknownst to the surprise waiting for him.

Ice throws his keys into the small bowl next to their door with a frustrated sigh. The day had been way longer than it needed to be.

Half of these meetings had him sitting there thinking this could've been an email over and over again.

Climbing the ranks is not for the weak—luckily, Iceman is anything but.

Just as he's about to drop face-first onto his couch, his foot catches onto something hard, and instead of soft cushions, he almost face-plants into his sturdy wooden dresser.

Furious, he whirls around and glares at the offending item. Mav's dirty boots are strewn out next to the rack—where they are supposed to be. Ice has to take a breath to steady himself, already feeling the emotions boiling over in his chest. He can't even count how many times he had asked his partner to put his damn shoes away.

Exhaling through his nose, he kicks the boots in the general direction of the shoe rack, too tired to deal with this now.

Unfortunately, they hit the bottom of the wardrobe dead on, making it wobble and consequently piling a bunch of jackets right onto Ice's head. His muffled scream would probably be hilarious in any other situation.

At least it warrants a tentative "Sweetheart?" coming from the kitchen.

Ice rips the jackets off his head and storms into the kitchen, more than ready to unload some of the pent-up frustration.

"Pete Mitchell, how many times did I tell you to put your fucking shoes on the-" He stops dead in his tracks at the sight unfolding before him.

Mav is standing at the kitchen counter, wide eyed and sizzling pan still in his hand. The lights are dimmed and the table is set. Ice just stumbled into an honest to god candle light dinner.

"What-" he breathes out, letting his gaze flick over the table back to Mav.

"Surprise?" Mav offers weakly, still looking weary at the baffled expression on Ice's face. "I'm sorry?" He tries next, when Ice doesn't move, still frozen in the doorway holding a bunch of winter coats. Quickly, he shakes himself out of it.

"What for?" He asks softly.

"I don't know," Mav shrugs, "You look pissed. Usually that's because of something I did."

He nods to the flowers Ice hasn't even noticed. "I thought I remembered tulips were your favorite, sorry if that was wrong."

Ice can only gape at him.

"Oh, Mav," he breathes out eventually. "They're perfect."

He finally walks around the kitchen counter, taking Mav's face into his hands and pressing a soft kiss to Mav's forehead.

"You're perfect."

Mav beams at him.

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

(IceMav!Parents and Young Daggers AU (again :)) - Ice and Mav come back from date night and the inside of the house looks like a bomb went off, with Slider hopelessly trying to clean the living room)

Iceman: SLIDER! Slider: In my defense, all the children are still alive!

(they all suddenly hear a loud thud and crash upstairs)

Young Jake(after a couple moments): - I'M OK! Slider(to Ice and Mav): See? Still alive!!!

[lapseinrecs]

sins and shortcomings

By blazingstar29

On Archive of Our Own

Status: Complete; Oneshot; 2,773 words

Summary: Mav pulls the blanket away from his face. “Ice.” His boyfriend looks back at him over his shoulder, one hand on the doorway. He doesn’t look angry, only forlorn. “Welcome home.” He smiles. “It’s good to be home.”

My thoughts: Made me tear up a little bit because fuck my social anxiety. I wish they’d make up.

[orchidvk]

Just a little something I wrote when I got the inspiration to do that :)

I know it doesn't quite fit with the timeline but that wasn't what I was going for, I just wanted some angst and a little bit of comfort with IceMav.

I hope you like it anyway.

Warnings: swearing

"You know, B told me what he wanted to be when he got older."

Ice said and stirred the pasta, Mav looked up from the book he was mindlessly reading in.

"Yeah?"

"Yep. He said he wanted to become a pilot just like us. He even asked me if we could recommend him, he is adorable."

Mav didn't respond, he couldn't respond.

"Promise me....not to let him fly, Pete. Please...I don't want him to end up like Nick.

Promise me, please."

"I promise..."

Ice turned away from the stove and looked at his wingman.

"Mav? What's wrong? Isn't that sweet?"

The smaller man stood up and looked at Tom, his hands shaking.

"I...We can't let that happen, Ice. I promised Carole not to let him fly."

"You...? You did what?"

The blond asked and felt stunned, anger bubbling inside of him but also a bit of pain, especially for Bradley.

"She asked me to not let him fly...She didn't want him to end up like Nick.

Please, you have to understand, Tom."

Tom shook his head in return, the dinner cooking behind him already forgotten.

"How can you just decide that for him? Do you know what you would do to him? Do you realize how much you would hurt him?"

"Thomas...I promised her...."

"But she isn't here!" Tom started to yell, tears shining in his eyes. "Carole is not here and neither is Goose! For fuck's sake! You are barely here! It is him and me...

I have to switch between father, mother, housewife, and rear admiral just because YOU CAN'T FUCKING BEHAVE!"

Ice didn't mean to yell but he couldn't keep his emotions inside any longer. All the things he has been keeping inside bursting out.

The tears are falling freely now.

"I don't want ghosts to decide what is good for my kid! I don't want ghosts to decide what he should do and what not! We are responsible...Both of us and we both decide what is good for him and he decides what is good for him!"

The brown-haired man stared at Ice with an expression full of hurt, tears are also falling down his cheeks.

"I never forced you to stay, Ice.

I never forced you to stay and take care of a child that isn't even yours."

That was a low blow that hit Iceman hard.

"Yes, you are right. I never had any obligation.

But I stayed and I still stay because I love you and I love him and if you think you can win this argument by saying I never had to stay in the first place then you are not only wrong but also an asshole."

Ice put the pasta in some colorful containers he got from his sister-in-law Becky and put them carefully into the fridge, he figured both of them wouldn't be eating anything tonight.

"I'm not going to discuss this with you any further. Take the bed, Mav.

I need to...I need to clean the kitchen."

That was an obvious lie, Mav couldn't see one single stain. The only thing Ice could clean was the pot where the pasta had cooked a couple of minutes ago.

But Mav also knew that Ice needed something to do and that if he wasn't stress-baking he needed to stress-clean.

So he started to make his way upstairs in silence but before he could reach the first step, Bradley came through the front door, eyes red and blood dripping from his elbow.

"Pa! Can you help me clean that up?" The kid's shorts were full of grass stains, Ice probably already got a heart attack from that sight, his shirt was full of already dried mud and his knees suffered also a bit but didn't bleed.

"Of course, Baby Goose. What happened?"

"We played and I stumbled and I hit the concrete instead of the grass."

Even though Bradley Bradshaw has reached the age of 8 years, Iceman's inner mother hen came out and he picked the boy up to drag him into the bathroom.

"I can do that, Ice," Pete said quietly, the blond man stayed still for a moment before shaking his head.

"No need. I'll do it, just go to bed."

And he was gone.

Maverick made his way upstairs and into their master bathroom, where he got ready for bed.

He knew he wouldn't catch one bit of sleep but the thought counts.

The pilot can hear his boys in the bathroom, talking and water running.

Mav can imagine exactly what Ice did, his lover was always gentle and caring.

He probably got rid of the blood, put a bandage around their kid's elbow, and brushed his teeth with him together.

Maverick remembers it like it was yesterday.

Bradley was still small back then, smaller than now and the three of them used to brush their teeth together every evening.

After taking care of Bradley, Ice send the boy to bed with a kiss on the forehead and went down into the kitchen.

He finally broke down there, weeping and sobbing. Today was just too much to handle.

He tried to be as quiet as possible because he knew that Bradley wasn't asleep yet but played on his Gameboy and he didn't want the kid to see him like this.

Ice's hands gripped the sponge tight while he scrubbed at the stain on the floor.

It doesn't come off.

For god's sake, why doesn't it come off?

It was driving the blond pilot insane, tears mix with the water from the sponge, and Ice scrubs so hard that he thinks the stain might come off with the wood.

He didn't stop, didn't let the soft material in his hand go until another hand grabbed his.

"Hey....love. We talked about this didn't we?"

Pete was kneeling in front of him, keeping his hands from moving.

"This is a wine stain we can't get rid of." The man finished his sentence and took the sponge.

"But it bothers me..." Tom whispers, voice full of sorrow and defeat.

"I know it does...."

The two men were sitting on the floor, leaning against the kitchen counter in silence.

"I'm sorry...You are right...." Mav says after some time and Tom freezes.

"No...I know how seriously you take promises, I should've talked differently with you about this.

I shouldn't have said those things to you."

Maverick intertwined their hands.

"Maybe but I also shouldn't have said certain things to you and I should be here with you and him.

I'm just sorry that you had to tell me how you felt in such a way. I made you yell instead of talk it out."

[totallyawesomenerd]

~ first ao3 fanfic! ~

it’s a small story following romeo (inhumans vs x-men) and the struggles of being an empath. i think it’s one of the coolest mutations in marvel and wanted to write about it! he’s a really interesting character with an underrated HEARTBREAKING story. the whole being stuck in a different universe, growing up there and returning realising no time passed thing?? oh my GOSH. i sobbed.

anyway, hope you enjoy 😋

[witchwyfe]

love me like you - tik

I pairing: college! Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky x female reader

I précis: You get drunk at a party and your lovely bf takes care of you!

I content/warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol, mentions of being drunk, cigarette/smoking mention, college soccer player tom, college au

I word count: 1,093

I a/n: part of my college soccer ice series

Much to Ice’s chagrin, the team throws or attends a party after almost every game. If it’s a win, it’s to celebrate. If it’s a loss, it’s to commiserate. He doesn’t like drinking during soccer season, so he usually plays babysitter until everyone gets home. When you first asked Ice to go out with you, it was at a party, and you were endeared with the way he watched over the other boys and made sure they all stayed safe.

Now, you’re another person that Ice watches over at the party, especially if you’re drinking. 

The other boys love when you tag along to parties, because it means they get to see the softer side of Ice that he doesn’t usually show to them. It’s even better when you’re drunk, because he’s extra lovey to you, and the guys eat it up.

You’re sprawled out on Ice’s lap while he lounges on the couch. Much to his dismay, there was a frat party so that is where he’s spending his Friday night, rather than relaxing with you. 

His hand moves up and down your bare leg soothingly, distracting himself until you’re ready to leave. Your skin is warm under his palm, and he revels in the way you’ve gone limp in his lap, fully comfortable with—on—him. You’ve had about one seltzer too many, and Ice makes a mental note to grab you a bottle of water when you let him up. 

Your finger traces his jawline up-and-down until you get bored with that and shift in his lap. “Icey,” You whisper, leaning forward like you’re going to share a secret. 

He doesn’t even get a chance to answer before you’re placing your palms on either side of his face, squishing his cheeks, and forcing his lips to pucker. You press a sloppy kiss to his mouth, before releasing his face.

“What did you need, baby?” He hums, a fond expression taking over his features.

“Nothin’.” You mumble, suddenly shy. “Just wanted to kiss you.”

He laughs, warm and deep, running his hand over your back again. “Yeah?” He wonders. “You wanna do it again?”

You nod eagerly, falling even more into him when he presents his lips. They’re warm and gentle against your own, and you giggle into his mouth, hands curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You’re so pretty,” You whisper when you pull away. 

“I have to tell you something.” He says, mirroring your tone. “You’re even prettier.”

A delighted shriek leaves your lips and you squish him in a hug again. 

One seltzer too many, turned into too many drinks entirely, in just a couple of short hours. You’d gone to the bathroom with one of your friends and came back drunker than you had been before, with a wasted Goose in tow, giggling at something you were whispering in his ear.

“Alright, I think you’ve both had enough.” Ice states, standing up briskly, and deftly slipping an arm around your side. 

“You mean we’re leaving?” Goose whines, resting his head on Ice’s shoulder.

“Afraid so, bud.” Ice nods. He pulls his phone out to text his team—double checking that no one else needs a ride home—before corralling you and Goose to his car. 

In anticipation of this happening, he’d parked as close to the run-down fraternity house as possible.

Ice man-handles Goose into the backseat so that he can focus fully on you. He’s bent at the waist, leaning over you to slide the seatbelt across your body. Once it’s clicked into place, he presses his lips to your temple, lingering for longer, before making his way to the driver’s seat.

He listens to you ramble on about a plethora of things, a fond smile on his face as he holds one of your hands in his. 

When he pulls up to the house he shares with the other members of his soccer team, Mav is standing, propped up against the side of the house, smoking a drunk cigarette. Ice has no idea how Mav beat him home, considering he was in the middle of a keg stand when Ice left with you and Goose. 

“Mav!” Goose is suddenly yelling, half of his body hanging outside the window that Ice didn’t even hear him open. 

“Jesus, Goose, get back in the car!” Ice calls, using the driver door access to close the back window when Goose heaves his body back inside the car. 

It’s a long journey from the car to the front door, especially with you leaning more than half of your body weight on your boyfriend, while Goose is tugging him by the hand, eager to get inside and eat a snack. 

Slider is inside—and sober—and Ice breathes a sigh of relief. He would’ve liked to have been the one to stay home, but right now he’s just happy Slider can help take care of Goose and Mav, and he can worry about getting you up to bed.

“Long night?” Slider jokes, wrapping his hand around Goose’s bicep so he can lead him into the kitchen. 

“C’mon Goosey, I’ve got pizza rolls for you and Mav.”

“Thanks Sli.” Ice smiles, nodding at his friend before focusing fully on you. Usually Ice loves his bedroom—the only one on the third floor of the old house—but right now he’s wishing it wasn’t so that it wouldn’t be as far for you to walk. You’ve got your arms wrapped around his torso now, head pressed into his chest.

“M’tired, Icey.” You whine. “Can we take an elevator?”

He chuckles into the top of your head. “We don’t have one, honey.” He shoves his phone into his back pocket, slings your purse into the bend of his arm, before crouching in front of you.

“Hop on, baby.”

“Really!?” You coo, with much more energy than you currently possess.

“Really.” He’s smiling but you can’t see it, and you clamber onto his back with a huff.

“Got it!” You cheer, nestling your cheek against his shoulder. He’s steady through two flights of stairs, not even quivering when he gently deposits you on his bed. 

“You’re so strong,” You coo happily. “Thank you for carrying me, Icey.”

“You don’t have to thank me honey,” He smiles, full and sincere. “Always gonna take care of you.”

You giggle, reaching up to lock your arms around his neck. You grin grows impossibly big when he plasters kisses to the top of your head.

“C’mon sweet girl, let’s get you ready for bed.”

© witchwyfe 2023. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

[pilotsandgays]

Surprise ;)

I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!! <3

[makingyoufeels1ck]

if you read any of my icemav oneshots i will kiss your forehead and cry maybe

[ateliersss]

TOP GUN #2

…is part of The Bookshelf.

⇨ This is a collection of my favorite fanfics/oneshots on Tumblr I love to re-read once in a while. None of those works belong to me! Feel free to use it as well.

⇨ My own works are here

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Left at the Altar Summary: When you get left at the altar, a familiar face swoops in to save the day.

Can't Let You Go Summary: When you and Jake broke up, it hurt both of you more than you could handle. Now, after three months of barely seeing or speaking to one another, Jake walks in on the surprise of seeing you in a wedding dress, and it brings past memories and ruined dreams to the surface.

Wanting It All Summary: Hangman ends up in the hospital from a very similar Phoenix/Bob/birds situation, and you suddenly regret keeping a big secret from him.  

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts Summary: You and Jake had a history of flirting and occasionally kissing if too much time was spent at the bar, but it never went any further than that. One night, after showing up at your house and passing out on your couch, Jake wakes up the next morning only to learn he had drunkenly confessed his feelings for you.

Less Misery, More Company Summary: Jake has feelings for you but you don’t believe it, so you play a little trick to get back at him for all of his flirtatious teasing. But that little trick fails miserably, and as the weight of your mistake settles in, you realize you owe him an explanation, one that requires you to admit some things you’ve long denied.

Scrapes and Bruises Summary: Basically, Rooster is not thrilled about your relationship with Hangman, and their issues with one another bring up some fears of your own.

Good in Bed Summary: Jake has made it crystal clear to you that you're only friends with benefits, so why did he go and delete your dating apps?

Cross Summary: The four times you captured Jake Seresin’s attention and the one time he did something about it.

There's a Honey Summary: 3 times your aunt penny sees herself and maverick in your relationship with jake and 1 time she doesn’t.

So Funny Story (I'm Fucking Your Daughter) Summary: You've had a thing with Jake for a while now. The thing is, your dad doesn't know and your brother is desperate for you to tell him.

All You Had To Do Was Stay Summary: Six years ago Jake hit your life like a hurricane. In and out in a matter of weeks. You thought after you get over the disappointment of him leaving without saying a word you’d never think of him again. But then two pink lines change your life forever. Now he’s back and still has no idea that the little girl by your side is his daughter.

Revelation

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Three Generations Summary: Rooster is married. Maverick found out when the paperwork got filed with the Navy, but he doesn’t have a chance to ask Rooster about it until after the mission

Endings and Beginnings Part 1, Part 2 Summary: It's Maverick's retirement party but Rooster's far more concerned about you, his pregnant wife, than anything else.

Wrong Number Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Robert "Bob" Floyd

Only Love Can Hurt Like This Summary: Bob lost his fiancé in a dog fight and goes through the grieving process. Eventually he learns to move on but then everything he thought he knew was a lie, including the fact that Y/N had died on that mission.

All Fun & Games Summary: Returning to San Diego was just another assignment for you. Another step in the career path, full steam ahead, until you come to an obstacle in the road. Usually, you’d navigate around it, keep on going, but this is no normal obstacle. It might be enough to reroute you completely.

Tom "Iceman" Kazansky

Part of Three Summary: Reader is Maverick's sister, dating Iceman, and finds out she's pregnant.

Scared Summary: A fight between you and your fiancé spirals out of control.

Get Your Girl

Tom Is Finer

[eliashirsch]

God Tier Top Gun Fanfictions. A Masterlist. (1/3)

As of 15th May 2024, these are some of the BEST stories I have read in the fandom. Of course, this is completely subjective and there are many personal factors as to why I crowned them God Tier. 

Mainly:

Reading it for the first time: ‘Oh, this is really good, I’m going to be thinking about this for the rest of my life’

When compiling the list: ‘Oh my god, this fic, man, this fic!!’

There are many other fics that match the first criteria, but for it to be on this list, I needed to have these two reactions.

REMINDER! READ THE AUTHORS' TAGS AND WARNINGS!!! They’re there for a reason. PLEASE make sure you understand where the story is going to be before reading!!

Without further ado, I present to you, my roman empires:)

Winner Categories:

1. Best of the Best Authors (1/3)

2. Best of the Best Series (2/3)

3. Best of the Best Fics (3/3)

4. Honorary Mentions (4/3)

Best of the Best Authors

Authors that I trust with my life, whose work are ALL incredibly well written. 

COMPACFLT @compacflt

They’re the first person to pop in my head when I was thinking about making this list. No amount of time and words will be enough for me to describe how good their work is. Seriously. It’s on a level I’ve never seen before for fanfiction. The world building, the characterization, the prose, everything. COMPACFLT has a way of understanding these characters, it makes so much sense and fits so well with canon. I’m just at a loss for words. Genuinely the reason I converted to Icemav supremacy.

When We Get Around to Talking About It 

Goose has been dead for a week and a half when Iceman loses his first wingman in a dogfight with six Soviet MiGs over the Sea of Okhotsk. Goose has been dead for thirty years when Iceman loses his second wingman to a surface-to-air missile on the tail-end of a mission he's responsible for: he's sent his family on a suicide mission to destroy a uranium enrichment facility in Russia's Far East. This is the story of those thirty years in the middle. (Or: Tom Kazansky rises through the ranks while trying to stay a good man. If he ever was one to begin with.)

This was the first story I’ve read from them. And it’s so… I don’t have words.  It’s told from Ice’s perspective, filling the gaps between TG and TG:M with added Icemav and Hangster. In my mind this is canon:D

Debriefing (& Other Stories)

"We can start here, I guess. If we're talking about us," Pete says. "Nineteen-eighty-six. The first thing I thought, when I saw you in that O-club, was: Iceman is off-limits. Capital O, capital L." Despite himself, despite the fear, Tom laughs a little. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?" "Well, first off, we were competition. And yeah, you were attractive, but then you opened your mouth and I swear. You were just an asshole. Goose is trying to introduce you to me and here I am thinking about how much of an asshole you are. Shut up about Cougar, asshole." "It was supposed to be a friendly competition!" "Yeah, right. So that's what I was thinking: he's attractive, clearly doesn't know how to talk to other men, might be into the proposition if I framed it the right way. But he's an asshole, so this competition is just gonna be friendly." Pete pauses. Then he says, "Ice, you wanna get married?" And that's how they start talking about it. (Or: they finally get around to talking about it. Plus a couple extra stories for good luck.)

Sigh and send COMPACFLT a loving look. This Maverick's POV adds so much to the story without being repetitive. COMPACFLT deliberately tells their story like puzzle pieces, and they complete each other—just like Icemav, if you will. 

The Slider oneshot is truly something else. I was so eager for the upload and kept an eye on their account for updates religiously. To flesh out a character that barely has any source material is an incredible skill to have. And the Bradley oneshot… Omg… My favorite characterization of Bradley, period. 

Tremors & Aftershocks

They both come back to their senses and stop openly crying again eventually. The stitches fall out of the thirty-year-old wounds and the scars fade back to skin-color. Life stops being so painfully raw after a couple weeks back home. You get used to miracles the way you get used to anything else. One day at a time. [Or: 40 years of extras, from 1982-2022. Some true love, some heartbreak, some miracles.]

To me, this one has a different feeling from the other two. More focused on Ice and Mav’s relationship as opposed to the whole plotline. It’s tender and bittersweet and feels like being hugged for the first time and then told that you wouldn’t get another hug in thirty years time.  

What impresses me most is that, if you go to COMPACFLT’s Tumblr account, you’ll see the thought they’ve put for these stories are INSANE. They’re so educated on the military and its history and it adds so much to these characters. I’m not American and all my writing for Top Gun will always stem from google searches and other fics. If you’re a nerd like me and like to read about other’s analysis about topics they know nothing about, I suggest you go to their account and have fun.

COMPACFLT, you have captured my soul with your writing. Thank you for your service and I wish you well in life.

AortaArgent @aortaargent

If you’re looking for an author who can write smut like nothing else, go to their profile. Better yet, click here, and scroll down to the threads they made about girl!Mav and get horny real quick. It’s a shortcut to heaven really. (And yes, I’m still upset that they seem to have left the fandom, but I still hold the stories they’ve left behind close to my heart:)) My favorites:

like a shotgun (needs an outcome)

“Ice gave me a handjob when we did this,” he argues. “Oh, that’s what gets you moving? Seeing who comes first?” With that, Slider takes hold of him, wrapping his hand around and keeping his fist steady. “Go on, baby girl. Fuck it like a good little -” He squeezes Slider’s balls a little harder than he’d imagine is necessarily pleasant. For Slider. It's definitely nice for him. “Fuck,” Kerner chokes out, weakly. Ice sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “I told you he bites.” In which there are multiple realisations, improbable numbers of pilots hanging out in a shared shower, volleyball games and verbal tennis. Yes, it's compulsory to wear your dogtags in the shower - never know when you could need identification. (Only kidding, it's for added fuckability.)

It’s so hot... but believable at the same time. BDSM is just one of those things where you read about it and can tell if the author has experience or is just extremely well-informed. 

Eye to Eye 

“Maybe it’s not just us looking to get a piece of you,” Wolf says. He’s right by Maverick’s head, and a shiver rolls down his shoulders in a sweeping tide at the soft click of each word against his ear. “Maybe we offered. You’re so pretty, Mav. It’s not a hard sell.” His hands twitch with the effort of not reaching up to tear off the blindfold and find out if they’re telling the truth or just winding him up. It’s possible. Occupied, blindfolded, he might not have noticed the door opening. More guys could have been in the showers. Two hands circle his ankles, firm over his boots, and hold him steady. Someone else has his left hand, kneading the tendons down the back of it. Anyone and anything is plausible. A continuation. Finally.

HOT DAMN. That’s all.

AortaArgent portrayed Ice and Mav’s relationship as absolute and secure while having fun with Mav’s dynamic with the other guys. All of their works are mind-boggling and simply amazing!

thecarlysutra @icemankazansky

Need I say more? Carly’s one of the most prominent members of the Top Gun fandom. Actually, I trust any member of the Top Gun Old Guard. With Carly, there’s something about their writing that makes me think of discovering an old box of CDs you used to watch relentlessly, dusty and worn, but the nostalgia rushes back and it’s achingly familiar. You can tell they’ve been writing for Top Gun for so long the characters kind of became their own. And when you click on any fic they wrote, you can fall and trust they’ll catch you. My favorites:

and i promise, you're the locksmith

“Is something going on in your neighborhood?” Maverick asked. “Like … a pest problem or something?” “You could say that,” Ice said. “Like … a coyote or something?” “Suitors,” Ice said. Maverick's attempts to woo Iceman are somewhat complicated by the promise Ice has made: Anyone who wants to marry him must catch his cat, which wears the key to his house around its neck on a silver chain. Inspired by the Tumblr legend.

This one’s so cute!!! Ugh, I’m never going to get tired of reading Icemav fall in love over and over again. 

Dreams of Impact

Maverick's trip in Darkstar takes him further than he ever imagined possible.

Sigh for the second time and send hearts Carly’s way. Basically, Mav gets transported to another universe and weird things happen. I love fics that dabble with the universe, the what-ifs, the what could’ve been. Do you ever have that moment when you make a decision, look back and wonder how life would be if you chose differently? Click on the link and read 🫵

aelibia @topgunreacts

God. aelibia’s just too good. It’s like banger after banger after banger. If you’re looking for an author whose work is a guaranteed good read, click the link and it’ll show you magic. They have Icemav ranging from tender and soft to angsty, portraying all different sorts of love and a way of writing explicit sex that I’ve never found anywhere else. 

I can’t even pick which one’s my favorite because they’re all my favorite. Especially the series they wrote, oh my god. I love them all. However, one that I reread religiously and being giddy over is this:

Wine Dark Sea

Raised by a selkie mother bound to a human man, Ice returns to the human world as a teenager with a singular purpose: to find the source of human strength, and claim it for himself. But after a careless mistake binds him to another human man, Ice is forced to reconsider his most fundamental beliefs: What is the meaning of strength? And what is the cost of freedom?

It’s so silly at times and heartbreaking most of the time. I especially love the later chapters where the evil is defeated and Ice is just being a silly seal while Mav’s being the supportive partner that he is. This fic is the SOLE REASON that my favorite animal is a seal. Thank you for opening my eyes to something that has been so obvious from the start, your majesty aelibia.

I also humbly present these seal drawings because the image of Ice galumphing around a Navy base, complete with wet smacks and people shrieking in horror makes me laugh everyday. That, and the scene where Mav is surrounded by four fat harbor seal pups and reading a story to them. Eleven out of ten. 

This one’s my favorite:}

[lapseinrecs]

take a chance on the edge of life

By Lacerta

On Archive of Our Own

Status: Complete; Oneshot; 3,096 words; Complete sequel

Summary: It was a suicide mission. Of course they didn't succeed on their first try. - When Maverick dies, he loops back to the morning before.

My thoughts: I love time travel and Edge of Tomorrow is low key a good movie. Still. Poor Mav.

[compacflt]

I just finished rereading Slider's oneshot and I loved it just as much as I always do. I was wondering if you had any thoughts on how the conversation between Ice and Cougar went at Ice's retirement ceremony. You gave us little snippets of it from Slider's point of view, but I'd love to hear more of it if you have thoughts on it you'd like to share.

this is such a kind ask. i have no idea

for the same reason there is no explicit reaction in ch 12 when ice first hears mav say i love you—i spent a good week low key trying to figure out whether a reaction was needed there—it’s such a potent powerful cocktail of so many wild & unfamiliar emotions that i don’t personally think i have the literary juice to even attempt to try to describe it

i also am allergic to writing ice or mav explicitly coming out to anyone because it gives me secondhand embarrassment for them. the idea of the commander of the pacific fleet having to psych himself up to awkwardly mumble “um i should’ve told you all this time … i think i…i think im gay” to his friend gives me the ick sorry he’s not fifteen years old. so he Could be doing the big lgbt rite of passage of emotionally apologizing and coming out to Cougar in that conversation. but he Could Also be doing the ‘im nearly sixty years old im not gonna bullshit you’ thing of simply saying: “you and I have been very shitty to each other in the past and i apologize for that in x,y,z way and you were right about me and maverick and we’re gonna make it official this summer and if you want to come we’d really love to have you & normalize diplomatic relations between us again, you’re a real great friend when you’re not being a massive fucking douche”

[kolbalissh]

morning afters ⊹₊⟡⋆

carlos sainz jr/oscar piastri - read on ao3 !

teen and audiences above (suggestive content), 3.2k words - oneshot

the carcar established relationship domestic morning intimacy study that no one asked for, yet i delivered

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Leaving me without a kiss, Sainz?” Oscar grins back at him, his rabbit teeth and the crook of his canine out on the show, accompanied by the apples of his cheeks raising ever so lightly.

Carlos chuckles, deciding to humor the man in front of him whom he’s grown so unhealthily fond of.

“Just gave you one, amor."

A/N : this is my first ever fanfic written for the f1 rpf fandom, and boy did i ramble like my life depended on it pls enjoy thank you and i wholeheartedly welcome requests and feedback go wild 🤸‍♀️

Oscar’s eyes flutter open from the rustle beside him. The morning is soft, there’s light peeking out from the ends of the blackout curtains of his Hilton hotel room. The room cold, air conditioner is set to low - just how he likes it - it’s almost ritualistic the way Carlos will make sure the room is cold enough like it is consolation for how hot he’s going to make Oscar feel every time they’re together, how sweaty and messy they get, the room is sure to be cold to cool them both down.

He can hear the older man get up, putting the blanket that lifted from Oscar’s body when he arose, back on his bare, pale, freckled, and now, marked body - so he doesn’t get cold.

Oscar looks, though he pretends he hasn’t woken up, he doesn’t understand why himself. Peering through his lashes as the light from the balcony seeps through, he can see Carlos’s silhouette, eyes still blurry and unfocused.

He’s putting his shirt on, the same shirt Oscar almost tore apart from his body. That’s another thing that he doesn’t understand about himself when he's near the Spaniard. He’s known to be calm, he is calm, he’s always been. The next iceman, they say.

But Carlos gets him riled up, gets him impatient, always hungry for more. If the next morning there aren’t the indents of Oscar’s presence on the older man’s body, then Oscar would say he should’ve tried harder.

Carlos puts his jeans on, now. The marks of the younger nails, the long drag across his shoulder starting from his back, where he held on - because Carlos was a bastard like that, always has to look at Oscar when he’s inside the other man, maybe it’s the Spanish in him that made him this romantic.

Oscar never complains. Though, he’d rather get demoted back to an Alpine than say out loud that burying his head into the crook of Carlos’s neck, feeling the slight stubble tickle his cheek, breathing him in as he holds on for the wreck of it all, is one of the few things in life that’s made him feel safe.

And if Carlos looks at him with those brown eyes of his, that holds the world and more when he’s making Oscar gasp and whine, if the way he looks at him makes him feel like he’s flying on cloud nine, then that's between him and himself only, and maybe the deity that he falls on his knees for when there's a particularly hard race in a week.

And when Carlos calls him ‘mi muñeco’, after kissing him in the most tenderest way possible, even then Oscar won’t complain. He remembers asking him the first time he whispered the term into his ear, he probably should have been offended when he understood. He probably should have gotten a bit mad too.

But when Carlos said, “My doll, built to perfection - mi muñeco, you are flawless, like a porcelain doll made out of beauty itself.”, accompanied with the softest kiss on his temple, as his thumb caressed the younger’s cheek like one wrong swipe and it would leave him broken in pieces - then how can one expect Oscar to find offense in that? He accepted it, if Carlos wants him to be his pretty flawless doll, then so be it.

Oscar stirs a bit, the duvet on top of him moving along with him, catching Carlos’s attention. The remnants of last night still linger on Oscar’s face. His brown locks were messy, ruffled, and frayed across his forehead. The corner of his eyes with the stain of dried tears, tears that Carlos knows so well how to draw out, by giving him just enough and then pulling away, having the Australian man grasping for more. More is never enough. Carlos knows, and yet somehow he still gets him to his release, always just enough.

Oscar’s eyes are awake now, adjusting to the light in the room, and his bare body adjusting to the temperature - he already misses the warmth of Carlos, it’s as if his tan traps the heat of the sun itself, later radiating throughout Oscar’s rather white skin - the only tan that Oscar can get without getting his skin to burn till red, though, he burns red for other reasons.

He’s looking at Carlos now, and the other man notices that the brunette is up and awake, the hint of the early morning doze still radiating off of him. Oscar looks comfortable, wrapped up in himself, head resting on his forearms, peering at Carlos from the little nook he’s created for himself. The duvet weighed him down, and his soft brown waves curtained his eyes, barely disrupting his vision.

Carlos walks over from the foot of the bed where he’s buttoning the last of his shirt, the sound of his steps over the wooden floor coming towards where Oscar’s been silently gazing at him, still sleepy. Oscar can smell his cologne already, the aftershave entering his periphery, a scent he loves inhaling mostly from the dip of Carlos’s neck itself during the many times he’s found himself after a long day curling up in the other man’s arms and chest.

Oscar stirs a little to get a better look at the man in front of him now, looking down at him like he's the single most interesting thing in this quiet morning. Carlos’s hands come to his face to move the few locks of hair in front of his eyes all the while taking a seat at the edge of the bed - Oscar without thinking already shifting to give him the space to do so, yet still laying in his morning comfort.

The older man's calloused fingertips trail to his face, warm against his sheet-indented cheeks, caressing the soft skin there. The apples of Oscar’s cheeks warm against Carlos’s hands - the slow soft motion of his thumb drawing circles has Oscar leaning into the touch like a reflex, almost as natural as breathing to him.

“Did I wake you, tesoro?”

Oscar hums as he shuffles out of the tangle he was in to be more open, blinking slowly, taking his time to let his eyes water again, the sting of waking up still lingering. Carlos had so many of these nicknames for him, he’d lost track of how many there were anymore, though he had his favorites. Almost every term that rolled off the older man’s tongue was a term of endearment, more or less more affectionate than the one before. Tesoro. Oscar knew this one, the first turns of the cogs in his brain for the day being translating one of Carlos’s names for him. He was still caressing his face, Oscar couldn’t help but let his lip curl softly.

“You should go back to sleep,” Carlos murmurs to the man lying in front of him, his palms moving to the sides of Oscar’s body running up and down in slow motions, to lull him back to slumber, delicate and mellow.

“What’s the time?” Oscar mutters out, morning voice out on display. He’s comfortable under Carlos’s touch, with no signs of getting up soon.

“Around 7.”

“Up so early?” Oscar whispers, his free hand that’s not supporting his head finds Carlos’s bigger one, joining their fingers together. An action so small, but so dear to the Australian man. He gets to do that. No one else does.

“I’ve got a flight at 12, amor, Max’s plane you know,”

Oscar relishes in the little world he is in right now. It is as if the hotel room is guarding this tender morning between them. He fiddles with Carlos’s fingers, absentmindedly fidgeting with them with soft touches. The skinship is comfortable, familiar, and mostly, regular in feel. If you told Oscar even a year ago that he would be spending Monday mornings post-race in a room with Carlos Sainz holding hands like teenagers then he would have called you a madman.

Oscar wants to ask him to stay. It’s unreasonable, he knows but Carlos isn’t as strong a man as you’d think he is. It could work, Carlos barely says no to him, and spoils him too much even for Oscar’s taste.

And they’re supposed to be rivals. The media is still running the rivals to an awkward truce narrative, but they’re far from it already. They’re so different but so close, so similar. Magnets - polar opposites attracting each other like a force of nature. Inevitable, bound to be, and natural.

It is as if they pulled each other to themselves, even without meaning to do so. Be it the start of their acquaintance, where one crashes on the track, the other is always found at the scene of the crime or be it what they are now, always finding each other even in the most hectic schedules to give each other their time.

Oscar could ask him to stay. Tell him to slide back into bed, take the jeans and the shirt he just put on back to the ground where they were. Have Carlos snake his arm around his waist, pull him close to share the heat of his body to put the younger man to sleep, let the Spaniard bury his face into the brunette’s pale nape, and breathe him in. The plea circles at the tip of Oscar’s tongue, in battle with itself on whether to present or not.

But Carlos knows Oscar better than he thought he did. Carlos speaks again, beating the other man to his own request.

“You know I’ll see you soon next week, cariño?” Carlos’s thumb strokes circle on Oscar’s hand now, a small action of consolation accompanying his reassurance to the unsaid wish that had popped up in Oscar’s mind.

“Yeah,” Oscar replies with a smile, reflecting in his half-lidded drowsy eyes with a glimmer. He always had an eye smile anyway, it always showed on his face when he’d grin genuinely. Spending time with Carlos brought more of those out than he could count. There used to be a time when all he did was glare at the other man with furrowed eyebrows, it’s not like it has stopped, Carlos still knew how to get under his skin the same way he did at the beginning of their infatuation. However, that remained mostly on track.

Carlos replies with a smile of his own, dragging the hand holding Oscar’s up to his lips, planting a chaste kiss in between his fingers. The brunette allows it to happen, some mornings he likes the extra attention that Carlos gives him a little more than necessary. Being the center of affection for the other man has become something he’s accustomed to.

Carlos slowly gets up from where he’s sitting, the mattress instantly fluffs up from where he was. He walks over to the foot of the bed again, looking for the other sock somewhere around. Oscar is still resting, admiring the man in front of him - waltzing around the room looking for his things like his phone, his wallet, and his stupidly expensive perfume that gets Oscar’s head dizzy like a good high.

Oscar stirs again, pulling the duvet on top of him closer to his chin, tucking himself in between it lazily observing the other man prepare to leave. It’s times like this he wished that maybe he wouldn’t have to. The schedules of the races and the rush of time made it almost impossible for them to overstay their welcome at each other’s. If it’s leaving for Baku today, then it's Vegas for another week. And so on. Except for the breaks they get, and it’s something Oscar’s come to like more. Before Carlos, it was catching up on sleep, playing video games, and eating at another spot that Yuki mentioned in the group chat. Nothing’s changed in his plans, just the addition of a certain brown-eyed individual’s company - and that made the time away from the adrenaline-filled weekends more desirable.

Oscar sees Carlos pace around the room suddenly, in search of something. He’s looking under the sofa, and flipping the hotel-issued magazines off the coffee table. Oscar shuffles and supports himself on his elbows, peeking over to where Carlos was currently jamming his hand through the side of his duffel bag again.

“You looking for something?”

“I can’t find my watch,” Carlos motions to his wrist with a face that looks scarily close to what a kicked-puppy would look like. His shirt sits taut against his arms, and the sleeves are rolled to his elbows, showing all kinds of forearm action.

Oscar sits up a bit more now, his bed head resembling more a bird’s nest than a head of hair. He ushers towards the counter near the sofa with his head and Carlos follows the motion to where his eyes lock on to the silver gleaming from the top of the counter, amidst some other clutter that has Oscar’s name written all over it.

“You kept it there before we, you know,” Oscar mumbles out with a small chuckle, it’s just them there - there’s no need for Oscar to talk properly, the energy of fully waking up hasn't risen in him yet, and he’d very much like to sleep in today.

Carlos walks over to grab his watch, puts it on swiftly, and locks it in place on his wrist. The action has Oscar attentive, more attentive than needed one might say, but he can't help but stare at him - Carlos’s soft black hair falls to his forehead as he tilts his head down to secure the watch on his hand. Carlos reaches towards his bag, bringing his phone out of his back pocket, and checks the time.

Oscar is still sitting up, slouching, the hue of sleepiness still washed over his face - he looks incredibly soft at the moment. His lower half was covered by nothing but the white, heavy duvet, and his pale body speckled with moles and freckles, and fresh new marks of last night.

Carlos walks over to him again, shoving his phone back where it was. His right hand comes up to embrace Oscar’s face, slowly falling to where his chin is to tilt the brunette’s head up to him. Carlos bends down to kiss him on the cheek, the warmth of his plush, red lips against the soft of Oscar’s cheeks. Oscar leans in his head, savouring the contact of the kiss.

When Carlos pulls away there is a crinkle in his eye, a smile he can't help but have, looking at the younger man in front of him. His hand still holding onto Oscar’s face that he lets graze across his cheek, just to feel his warmth. Oscar always ran hot, even with the temperature low, his flush kept him warm.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Leaving me without a kiss, Sainz?” Oscar grins back at him, his rabbit teeth and the crook of his canine out on the show, accompanied by the apples of his cheeks raising ever so lightly.

Carlos chuckles, deciding to humor the man in front of him whom he’s grown so unhealthily fond of.

“Just gave you one, amor.”

Oscar feigns fake annoyance and furrows his eyebrows, with a quick eye roll before going back to peering at Carlos, awaiting his request.

Carlos breathes out another laugh, early morning Oscar had to be one of his favorite Oscars. The brunette got more clingy, especially on days like this when Carlos had to leave early and they knew it’d be some time again till they could loiter around each other’s comfort again. He leans in first, and Oscar instantly does so too, like a reflex, craning his neck up to meet Carlos halfway.

Their lips meet, and Oscar can taste the lip balm on the other man already, his own chapped lips chasing after the other’s plump ones. The kiss is soft, just like the ember of light flooding through the gaps of the curtains. Carlos tilts his head, deepening the kiss a bit more, a kiss that is unlike the ones they shared last night - filthy, wet, and heated. Oscar’s sleepiness is cut short a bit by the feeling of Carlos’s contact. He breathes him in and presses his tender lips against the older man’s. They linger against him, and Oscar can feel himself humming into it, his shoulders relaxing against Carlos’s touch. Oscar places chaste pecks on him in the middle, his hand reaching up to cradle Carlos’s cheeks. His stubble grazed Oscar’s palm, his hands were far smaller than the other man’s - they barely covered Carlos’s face whereas Carlos’s would have engulfed half his face already. Oscar loved the feeling, he loved leaning into his hands, letting himself be rested in its warmth.

Oscar pulls away first, breathing slightly heavier than he was a while ago, a wash of pink decorating his cheeks, his ears - running all the way down to his neck and collarbone. Carlos licks his lips pulling away as if to taste Oscar again. The Spaniard is left with his chest bubbling and a smile plastered across his face. Oscar’s hand goes to retract back to himself but Carlos catches it first, placing another few short, quick kisses on the other’s pale warm hand, contrasting against Carlos’s tan, gruff, and hairy one - adorning his silver watch.

“Get some sleep, love,” Carlos whispers to him so quietly, that Oscar would have barely heard him if not for the otherwise silent room.

Oscar dozily nods, his eyes already back to being half-lidded. Before he can collapse back into every nook and cranny of the mattress under him, Carlos decides to be even more of the romantic bastard he is, placing one final kiss on the top of Oscar’s head, into the soft mess of his chestnut waves which sealed that Carlos was finally leaving.

He feels Carlos pull away from his space, leaning down to grab his bag and shuffle away towards the exit of his room.

Oscar felt his eyes get heavier and it got harder for him to keep them open. He can hear Carlos rustle, further away towards the door in front of the small foyer now. The click of the only ambient light on in the room echoes through, Carlos switches it off and the room gets darker than it already was, the only light existing is the cracks of early morning sunlight peeping from between the heavy curtains.

The room is still cool and Oscar’s eyes are closed now as he starts drifting off into comfortable slumber. The last thing he hears is the soft tick of the door as Carlos closes it behind him, the sound diffusing with the white noise from the central air conditioning that’s soothing Oscar back to sleep.

Oscar breathes deeply, he can smell Carlos’s lingering perfume in the air and on his pillow. The room feels like him, even if it is Oscar’s space. He feels his senses get hazier, the last remnants in his mind being the thought of the other man. His man.

And if Oscar wakes up much later in the noon, getting some sleep, as Carlos had said - and he doesn’t find the older man beside him, then that’s okay.

Oscar will see him soon, anyway.

thats it! forgive me if the spanish nicknames are wrong or something i tried my best and i in no way shape or form know spanish well - hope you liked it and if u wanna see more stuff just flood my ask box (it heals me literally seeing reqs) and remember, carcar 4 lyfe xoxo

[starlightshadowsworld]

Coffee for 2 (Don’t be late)

Pre-Stormbringer oneshot where Hirotsu is Iceman’s mentor (inspired by @whathorselegs)

The mission had gone off without a hitch. The intel had been secured. The bodies left with the cleaning crew.

A job well done and now all that was left was to indulge himself for just a moment. But the smoke around him coiling with that of the blood stained floor didn’t give him that same sense of accomplishment.

No, something was amiss.

He stamped out the dying cigarette as he thought. It wasn’t the mission, that’s for sure. The Boss hadn’t summoned him either, none of his men had needed to be accounted for.

Except that is for his ward.

A cursory glance at his watch made him frown. In the Port Mafia you were never to be late if you could help it. Even if it was only a mere minute or two, every second mattered.

In the Port Mafia to be late was to be in trouble. And trouble was one that Port Mafia members were to cause, not the ones to be afflicted by.

Hirotsu knew that and so did his ward. He taught him everything he knew, and then some more. He lit another cigarette and hummed to himself.

So his ward had landed himself in trouble? So much for the quiet night in.

______________

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to send me a text.”

Iceman didn’t look up from where he tucked away in the corner of the cafe. But Hirotsu spotted the flicker of amusement in his eye even from the door.

The youth of the day.

As he sat down a mug of coffee was placed before him. He thanked the waitress before she silently left, probably with the rest of the staff.

It wasn’t a building that the Port Mafia owned but it was still part of the territory.

It’s rather cosy atmosphere and the old record player spinning tunes from Hirotsu’s youth made it a place many of the Port Mafia wouldn’t wish to venture into.

It was however the perfect place for Iceman. Hirotsu would know for he showed him the place years ago.

“I had to ensure you’d come” replied Iceman pleasantly. He looked the picture of relaxed, as if this was nothing more than a simple chat.

“Perhaps” Hirotsu sipped his drink before remarking “or is it because you didn’t wish to be tracked?” His mentee closed his eye “I could never get one past you, could I?”

Hirotsu chuckled “and yet it never did stop you from trying.” He placed the mug down and rested his hands on the table. “Do you wanna know what I’ve gathered? Or will you make it easier for me and talk?”

Iceman responded by simply leaning back ever so slightly in his chair and giving him an expectant look. Really, Hirotsu couldn’t recall ever teaching him such theatrics.

“You’re in a spot of trouble or rather you will be. You’re on the fence, mulling it over and need a deciding vote.” The other great thing about this place was that it was rather old fashioned.

Thick walls as close to soundproof as one could get. And not a single security camera in sight.

“You could ask your club mates for advice but they’re all involved.” He reached for cigarette and Iceman did the same. Twin flames burst to life before them and in the smoky haze they met eye to eye.

“So you came to me.”

Iceman held his gaze steadily. His face nor his voice betraying anything as he remarked“you got all that from 2 minutes.” Yet he didn’t deny it in the slightest.

Hirotsu raised an eyebrow in question. “But what I can’t understand is why, care to enlighten me?” The mug was set down as Iceman rested his hands on the table. “It’s about the kid, the sheep kid.”

He was silent for a moment before asking “when you look at him? What do you see?”

Hirotsu considered him for a moment. “When I fought him last year, I saw a mirror. Loud, abrasive with the power and confidence to back it up. It was like looking at myself at that age.”

“What changed?”

“I spoke to him when he was imprisoned. Away from battle and prying eyes and you know what he asked of me? To light a torch where his friends were being kept.”

He could picture him now, dirty and angry as he stubbornly refused the meal in Hirotsu’s hands. Despite it being clear he hadn’t eaten anytime recently.

‘I wouldn’t if I were you. It may not bode well for your captive friends.’ It was like a switch had flipped. The anger was ever present but there was a touch of fear. Chuuya had never looked so small before now.

But they never do at first.

‘…Hey old man…’ He’d called when Hirotsu went to leave. ‘Just, turn on a light…they’re scared of the dark. I won’t fight ya, but they deserve that much.’

“I saw not a king but a kid. One who let others may have drawn their own conclusions. But lying would do him nothing here. He wouldn’t even have known if the torch was lit. But knowing fed him better than any feast.”

Hirotsu smiled, his eyes warm and fond. “If anything, I see more of you in him than me.” Iceman scoffed “I think you’re getting your memories muddled old man.”

Yet there was no bite to his words.

“Maybe, but it stands to me now it doesn’t really matter what I see in him. Because he doesn’t. If I may be so bold, I’d say he has not a clue of who he is.”

That got Iceman’s attention.

He leaned forward and his voice dropped to a soft whisper. “And what if he could?” And with that admittance it all fell into place got Hirotsu. Why Iceman needed a deciding vote and why he was here at all.

He lit his cigarette and smiled “well then I’d say he’s lucky to have such friends.” Iceman stared at him for a moment before returning the smile.

“I won’t be late next time.” Hirotsu scoffed “sure, we’ll have to see. I think you like dragging me across the city without any rhyme or reason.”

His mentee shrugged half heartedly “I learned from the best.”

Hirotsu sighed before his voice turned serious. Even without needing to speak, Iceman sobered up and looked at him expectantly.

Good to know he still knew that much.

“How many bullets do I have left on me?” Asked Hitotsu, holding it up but even without looking Iceman knew. “There’s 3” came his careful response as he Hirotsu have a silent nod.

3 shots straight to the chest. That would undoubtedly be followed by breaking their jaw on the pavement. Because that was how the Port Mafia disposed of traitors.

The gun was placed back in its usual place.

“I have nothing scheduled this week. I would hate to waste any.”

And there it was. The scolding that Iceman had all but asked for. The unsaid warning as if he didn’t know exactly what he was getting into.

But one he welcomed in a strange way. And the next time the two met for coffee, Iceman walked in right on time.