#mavericks F/A-18 hornet

[ices-casket]

I'm having a very hard time coming up with what I should draw 😵‍💫, but I gotta draw something so!!

I could NOT draw Mavs or Nick's eyes, oml, I have such a hard time w/ it

My camera quality is crap 😔

AND I GOT MODELS!!

I also have the MiG I gotta put together, but that's gonna take a lot longer cause it has to be painted

[needforspeed161]

Hangman showing off in front of Rooster vibes

[mrslectermoriarty]

You know your father is a nerd when he points out to you that these buddies here

are in fact NOT F-14s but actually F-18s.

I looked it up on fandom. We compared them with pictures of both plane types.

HE WAS RIGHT.

THE WHOLE INTERNET IS CONVINCED THEY ARE F-14S BUT THEY AREN'T.

[thatsrightice]

People (right) when I (left) start talking about airplanes:

[wearerandomlyyours]

The Navy F-18s are doing low and slow carrier touch-and-goes and I'm suddenly reminded of why I haven't kicked my Topgun hyperfixation yet 😂

[mlqueen89]

Two | Ego

i took the miracle move on drug the effects were temporary (i love you) it's ruining my life  

Fortnight by Taylor Swift ft. Post Malone | TTPD |  

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick) 

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

warnings: smut, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of oral (f receiving).    

word count: 9,776 

summary: “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.” in which ellie has to deal with the consequences of having the best sex ever with an actual pilot who she actually has to work with. A familiar face makes an appearance to guide ellie through politics at miramar.  

A/N: guys guys guys, you are giving me liiiiife. the reception to the first chapter has been crazy. lots of jake head canon developing here. essentially, i've decided that watermelon sugar by harry styles is jake coded. for... reasons. my guy is all acts of service. 

this one was also beta read by my bestest friend, so this one goes out to jj. love you girl, thanks for reading the smuttiest part of my brain. i also apologize for the amount of taylor swift/pop culture references (srry, not srry). also, the number of videos i watched on F-14s (tomcats) and F-18s (super hornets) is cray.

working my way through the november prompts, slowly but surely! there are a few left, so if you want to request, head on over there.

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥  

Ellie groaned deeply, her face dropping to her hands as she slouched over the kitchen island from her perch on the stool.     

“I sat on his face, Yan,” Ellie mumbled through her fingers, her voice laced with the mortification of the memory from that afternoon. The way Lieutenant Seresin’s eyes passed over her, undressing her, seeing the mark he’d made on her neck and then coolly, calmly, pretending like he wasn’t put off by her presence. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck until it radiated from her cheeks. “Now I have to work with him.”  

Yan, unfazed, was busy bustling around the small kitchen, assembling her version of a “girl dinner,” which currently included an obscene number of jarred olives in a variety of colours, a smattering of mixed Harvest Snaps, Ritz crackers and a chunk of Swiss cheese she didn’t bother slicing. As she pushed herself up on her tip toes to peek into cupboards, her manicured nailed fingers reaching for a box she’d seen near the back of the space, Yan reminded Ellie of the squirrel family that lived under the deck at their old college house.  

“I dunno,” Yan replied with a shrug, nonchalant as ever, giving the box she’d retrieved from the back of the cabinet on top of the fridge a shake. “Maybe he’ll forget?”  

The remainder of her day at Miramar had been filled with facility tours, and security briefings, introductions to ground crew and the radar teams in the tower—the usual M.O. of any other airfield she’d worked on for the past six years. Routine, smooth, reflexive, comforting in its predictability after her unexpected morning.  

To her relief, she didn’t see Lieutenant Seresin again and in part, it was because she hadn’t necessarily been looking for him. Between seeing him again, being caught off-guard, her mind scrambling and having RADM Stark offer her concealer, she’d had her fill of shame and awkward interactions to last the entire week, possibly month.   

When, at the end of the day, Tony let her know that he’d be emailing her in the next hour or so about her office space, she was already thinking about how quickly she could scurry off to her car and peel out of the parking lot.  

Driving home from North Island was completed in a fugue state, doing everything she could to keep her mind off what would happen from now until whenever her contract was over in a few months and the possibility of her putting in for remote work. Canada, Mexico, Iceland… somewhere, anywhere far away from him.  

By the time she tripped through the front door, trudging up the stairs, shoulders sunk low, Ellie was glad Nic wasn’t home. She wasn’t sure she could handle the interrogation surrounding how her first day had gone (terribly) and why she had disappeared from the Halloween party so abruptly last night without saying goodbye. Both discussions would lead to the same, inevitable, infuriatingly handsome, source. Lt. Seresin. A pilot. A mistake. A five-time in one night mistake. 

When she’d instead found Yan in the kitchen, scrounging around in the cupboards, Ellie had offloaded her previous night and the resulting day in what felt like a single sigh, a mass exodus of mismatched thoughts and side drabbles. Disaster, social and career ruin the overarching themes. 

Ellie lifted her head just enough to scoff in her roommate’s general direction. “Forget? He’s a pilot, it’s highly unlikely. Have you ever met a pilot? Those guys have egos the size of the jets they fly. There’s no way he’s going to just forget without some kind of semi-serious head trauma. Unfortunately.”  

Before Yan could respond, mouth opened in what Ellie could only assume would come next, she held up a finger, a footnote to add, “Before you say it: Bradley doesn’t count. He’s a weird… mustachioed outlier.” 

Data couldn’t track the trajectory of Rooster. Ellie had tried and failed many a time—just when she thought she had pegged him, he escaped the pigeonhole with a dogfight level of evasive maneuvering. With a lack of data or evidence, she’d been forced to accept that Rooster was just untraceable. He didn’t fit the mold of the pilots she’d met.  

“Okay, but hear me out, maybe he will forget without a smack to the dome?” Yan tapped her chin as she glanced down at her plate of smorgasbord, as if considering what was missing. “For all we know, this is his usual modus operandi and you’re just another girl in the long line of hook ups?”  

Ellie felt her stomach drop. Long line of hook ups. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.”    

Yan popped a few pitted olives into her mouth and tipped her head, gathering herself for a moment before she spoke again. “Let’s have a choose your own adventure moment: do you want friend or therapist version of Yan Like, do you want advice advice or just to vent?”  

“Are you going to bill me if I say therapist, Yan’s version?”  

“How about we split the difference?” Yan held the absurdly sized chunk of Swiss cheese in a two—handed grip, nibbling at the corner as she leaned across the island. She was never going to get out from under the squirrel family allusion at this rate. “If I was your therapist, I’d say that maybe we should look at how this serves you? What does this embarrassment, feeling it, stewing in it, what does it do for you?”  

Ellie considered for a moment, her forehead slowly coming to rest on the cool quartz countertop as if the answers could be found there.  

How did the embarrassment of working with a man she’d slept with serve her?  

Maybe the root of the mortification was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. The intrusive thoughts, floating around her brain, still, of the man who had undone her so completely, mapped out her body with his mouth, re-wired her brain through life-altering, transcendent orgasm, one chasing another, each cascading into the next like a line of tumbling dominoes.  

Maybe her fluster was tucked behind the idea that he’d dragged sounds from her with his tongue, fingers, filled her in ways she hadn’t realized she’d been empty until he was inside of her, easing his way in as she gasped and moaned. She’d made sounds she could never have imagined making in the presence of another person, sounds she wasn’t even aware she was capable of making.  

The shame was most likely rooted in the fact that she had liked it, enjoyed every moment he’d been on her and inside of her. Touching her, playing her like an instrument, tugging at all the strings that moved her. She’d melted at the way he called her sweetheart and darlin’ in that voice of his, drawl rough and husky, while doing the things he did to her. How eager he’d sounded when he’d asked her what she wanted from him and how he’d nearly read her mind and fulfilled her needs without needing to be told. 

Ellie could only groan in response, the sound muffled into the countertop as she shifted on her stool, clenching her thighs together tightly as a warmth coiled low in her abdomen.  

The embarrassment didn’t serve her, though it did serve to remind her that she had to have her head on straight going forward. This couldn’t happen again, even if it was all she could think about, even if her body was telling her she wanted more. Her control, careful and composed, had to be stronger; it couldn’t happen again—especially not with him, not with a pilot. Maybe if she repeated it enough, hummed it to herself like a mantra, she’d get herself back on the trail leading to the summit that was the culmination of her life’s work. 

Lt. Seresin was her Voldemort. He who shall not be named. Her Darth Vader. Her Hans Gruber. She couldn’t have sex with Voldemort again. Couldn’t risk the Resistance and give herself to the Dark Side. Couldn’t let the terrorists take Nakatomi Tower on Christmas. 

“It doesn’t.” 

“Exactly. I’m not sure what just went through your beautiful noggin’ just now, but next steps: be the badass I know you are. So what? You had a spectacular night—this guy has no idea how lucky he is to tap that.” Ellie wasn’t sure how seriously she would take it if her actual therapist sat across from her and crunched on gherkin pickles, folded between a slice of prosciutto and used tap that to drive home a point. She’d let it slide for Yan. 

“Also, don’t think I don’t see it,” Yan pointed with the Harvest Snap olive hybrid in Ellie’s general direction. “I’m being nice and I’m not even going to touch the fact that you had crazy, wild sex with a guy dressed as a pilot considering your no pilots rule.”  

“In my, very feeble attempt at self-defense: Who dresses as their actual profession on Halloween?”  

“Oh, that’s just Big Dick Energy vibes, El.” Yan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, as if she was waiting for Ellie to confirm if the vibe had basis in reality. When Ellie simply rolled her eyes, Yan continued, “let’s be real though—we’re in San Diego. You could probably throw a stone and hit a minimum of three pilots in a five-foot radius.” 

Ellie propped her elbow up on the counter, resting her head in her hand, her eyes scanning the swirled pattern in the quartz to the right of Yan’s paper plate. “So, just like that? I just, what? Duplicate the BDE?” 

“More like mirror it. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Yan nodded, using a Harvest Snap to spear an olive. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, so I won’t, but if I could talk about it, I’d say that I have a client who is an author, who shall remain anonymous, and he uses this crazy, hostage negotiation tactic when he wants to disarm and redirect.” 

Hostage negotiation. Great. This is what is had come to. 

Yan was right. Ellie couldn’t honestly say she was thinking straight when he’d looked at her with his green eyes and easy grin, the level of confidence with which he carried himself so goddamned attractive. She definitely hadn’t been thinking with the prefrontal cortex part of her brain when he’d touched her waist and leaned in close. 

Ellie levelled Yan with a narrowed gaze. “What would friend Yan say?”  

“As your friend who has witnessed some spectacular mistakes in your romantic track record, I’d say,” Yan paused for a moment, considering, Ellie thought, on how she might soften the therapist speak, “so what? You hooked up with him. Big deal. You didn’t know he was a real pilot. It was Halloween. You thought, reasonably, that he wasn’t. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like you have to work directly with him, right?” 

“Except I actually do.” Ellie sighed—she'd already thought about it on the drive home, if avoidance was a viable tactic for the next little while. “I’m the one with the new tech, remember? That means seeing him all the time. He’s part of the team they’ve recalled—he’s one of the best the Navy has to offer. He might need to test my tech if I have any hope of getting it off the ground.”  

Yan paused, mid bite of her cracker, processing for a moment in silence. “Okay. First—love the pun. Second, yeah, that sucks, but maybe he’s, like, cool? Like, he hasn’t been a complete ass about it yet, right?” 

“He pretended like he didn’t even know me,” Ellie muttered, crossing her arms as the memory of his infuriating smugness resurfaced, the way his eyes found the mark he’d made on her like she was his. The way she, for a fraction of a second, let him suck all the air out of the space between them. “Which, I guess is fair, since we didn’t exactly exchange names before....”  

“... before he fucked your brains out?” Yan offered, snapping a piece of Ritz cracker off between her teeth, nonchalantly, as if fucked your brains out was a normal, everyday, part of conversations she engaged in.  

Ellie balled up a nearby tea towel and threw it at Yan as hard as she could manage, and it fell woefully short on the island between them. 

“Okay, so, he’s trying to be professional. That’s not necessarily a bad thing?” Yan turned her back to Ellie for a moment, heading to the fridge to grab the jug of pink lemonade from the fridge before she turned and poured it into a cup that sat on the edge of the sink. 

Ellie shook her head as Yan shook the juice jug in her direction. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—weird? I don’t know how to act around him now.” 

“Oh girl, act like it didn’t happen, obviously. We both know you’re the queen of compartmentalizing, right?” 

Ellie sighed, sweeping her hair back, unconsciously touching the concealer hidden hickey, feather-light. “This is going to be a bit harder though. I just wasn’t planning on hooking up with someone I’d have to see every day.” 

Yan propped her elbows up on the counter across from Ellie before she carefully slid the plate of crackers, olives, cheese and mini pickles toward her with a grin. “Well, welcome to what we true believers call the Frequency Illusion. You’ll see him for as long as he’s front and center in your noodle. Simple explanation. Either that or you have some karmic balance to restore.” 

Ellie sighed, a sigh that sounded more like a drawn-out lament. “You make it sound like a go around kicking puppies.” 

“As my grandma used to say—God rest her soul—” Yan continued, hearing Ellie’s comment about karmic retribution, and traced a cross over her body, turning her eyes upward for a moment before she mocked pouring one out, “pussy rules the world. You set the tone. Own it. Be confident. If someone is going to squirm, let it be him. You’re holding all the cards.” 

“Set the tone?” Ellie repeated, slowly, considering. She didn’t bother to ask why Yan’s grandma, an unassuming small-statured, Filipino lady, obsessed with backgammon and finding the freshest cinnamon scones up until the very day of her passing, would have come to such a firm stance on pussy and its power level. 

“Yeah,” Yan was around the island now, fluffing Ellie’s hair and fixing the collar on her blazer, “you’re the fucking gorgeous, brainy radar engineer. He’s just some dude who got lucky on Halloween.” 

Ellie shrugged, avoiding eye—contact with Yan. “Maybe you’re right.” 

Yan leaned forward to tap Ellie on the tip of the nose, evidently satisfied with herself. “I’m always right, girly pop.” 

“Oh, is that right, huh?” Ellie swatted at Yan as she danced away, skip-hopping over to the fridge.   

Yan grinned, piling more olives onto her plate. “You know it. Now, eat some olives and get your game face on. Tomorrow’s another day, and you’re not letting some hotshot flyboy get the better of you. Even if he’s gorgeous and a generous partner.”  

Ellie shook her head, but she picked up a cracker as Yan tapped the plate before migrating to the living room. “God, this is a mess.”  

“Eh,” Yan shrugged, dropping to the couch and patting the empty spot beside her as she nestled under an oversized blanket. “Messy is more fun. Let’s watch Love is Blind Brazil, there’s apparently this super unhinged guy, Evandro who picked this girl, Ariela, who clearly isn’t over her ex—” 

“Speaking of,” Ellie crossed the room and dropped to the couch beside Yan, tugging some of the blanket over for herself. “What happened to Frankenstein?” 

“Oh, turns out he couldn’t keep it together,” Yan didn’t bother to look at Ellie, waving the remote at the TV as she scrolled, her lips quirked up in the corners into a smirk, “needed someone with a bit more heart.” 

“You’re so ridiculous.” 

Naval Air Station Lemoore, California - 2004 

Even after hours, the Californian sun sinking low on the horizon, Lemoore Naval Air Base was alive with a low hum of activity. F-14 Tomcats rested, wings folded in against their bodies, on the tarmac like sleeping giants, the lights from nearby hangars casting long shadows across the hot asphalt. 

She’d woken from another nightmare. It was always the same, a nightmare in which her dad didn’t come home, his plane screaming through the perfect blue sky one moment and then whistling to the surface of the azure water below, no ejection seat, no parachute. Just churning waves as they swallowed the body of the grey metal, silently, until there was nothing left. 

It was why, at 8:45 PM on a hot fall Californian evening, she found herself in her Justice League pajamas, shoes tied haphazardly, sneaking around the base. 

“Dad, we’re not supposed to be here,” Ellie whispered, her eyes wide as she hustled across the airfield, her small, seven-year-old hand clenching her father’s as he snuck from corner to corner, aircraft to aircraft. Stealth mode he’d called it. In her chest, Ellie’s heart pounded, the excitement mixed with the mischievousness of it all.  

Rick “Hollywood” Neven grinned, a roguish glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her by his side. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I know the boss.” He offered her a sly wink and Ellie could feel the anxiety ebb away slightly. She trusted him, always had. He was her dad, after all—the coolest person in the world.  

Slipping through the open hangar bay doors, Ellie’s eyes focused on the jet parked up in the center of the building. The one she’d only ever seen from a distance, her fingers laced through the chain link fence, her mom at her back, as the engines fired to life and her dad took to the air. Now, larger than life, it was here, looming large over her tiny frame. Ellie’s breath caught as her dad led her closer, the heavy scent of engine oil and metal filling her nostrils. Ground crew engineers milled about, running through their checks, but none of them stopped or questioned her dad. He was a legend here, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew him. 

Rick nodded at one of the crew members, and they moved aside as he led Ellie closer to the jet. “Come on, squirt,” he whispered, lifting her up to stand on a ladder beside the plane’s body. “Want to see where the magic happens?”  

Ellie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the jet’s gleaming surface. “This is your plane?”  

“All mine,” he said proudly, patting the side of the jet, his hand passing over his name Lt. Rick Neven and call sign, Hollywood, painted on the side just below the seam where the bonnet would connect. On the body, beside the rear seat, Lt. Leonard Wolfe, Wolfman was painted in white, his RIO.  

As she stared, wide-eyed, taking it all in, he pointed to different parts, explaining each with ease of someone who had lived and breathed this life for years, someone who could identify this machine as an extension of his own body. “That’s the engine, and those are the intakes. That right there is the radar, it’s here, in the nose too—probably the most important thing in the whole bird.”  

Ellie’s eyes scanned the instruments inside the cockpit, levers and buttons, throttles and sparkplugs. “Why?” Her face scrunched in thought.  

“Because without it, I wouldn’t know what’s coming my way. You see, when you’re flying up there, things happen fast. You need to know everything around you—what’s out there, who’s out there.” He turned, giving her a proud smile. “That’s where a good radar tech comes in. But the best radar tech?” He winked. “They’re sitting right behind the pilot.”  

“Like the RIO?” she asked, her voice full of wonder, eyes trained on her godfather’s name.  

“Exactly.” He gestured for her to step up higher, holding her waist as he lifted her into the cockpit. Ellie settled her tiny frame into the seat, her feet barely skimming the pedals in the footwell. Reaching back into the rear seat, he grabbed his helmet, the one adorned with his call sign, and the “lady butt” as Ellie called it. Carefully, he placed it on her head. The weight of it pressed on her neck, far too big, but she didn’t care. The weight of it made her feel important—like she was a part of something bigger, like she was in the cockpit with her dad. 

“Dad…” Ellie began, her voice small and muffled from under the oversized helmet as she pushed it up so she could see him. “What’s it like? Flying up there?”  

Her dad leaned against the side of the F-14, his gaze drifting out toward the open hangar doors where the night sky stretched endlessly above. ��It’s like…freedom. Like nothing else in the world matters. Just you, the jet, and the sky. And when you’re up there, you feel like you can do anything.”  

Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she imagined, endless skies, horizon boundless, freedom. “Maybe I can be your RIO one day?”  

Her dad chuckled and Ellie could feel her heart swell, the thought of being here with her dad in his favourite place. He reached out and gently tapped the helmet on her head. “You’re already halfway there, kid. One day, you’ll be up there with me. I’ll be the one flying, and you’ll be the one keeping me safe, making sure we’re on the right track.”  

Ellie smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “Promise?”  

“I promise,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and Ellie could feel the pride growing in her, the thought of following in her dad’s footsteps both thrilling and nerve wracking. “Just don’t tell your uncle Wolfman. You’ll be putting him out of a job and I don’t know if the Navy is ready for two Nevens up there.” 

For a moment, it was just them in that cockpit, the noise of the hangar fading into the background as her dad told her to pull back on this throttle and showed her where the ejection handles were. Ellie could feel the importance of it, the way her dad talked about all of it. If her dad said she could do it, then she could—her hero, strong, invincible. Maybe she could be his RIO one day.   

He grinned and grabbed the straps of the helmet, giving it a loving shake. “Alright, kiddo. You got school tomorrow. Let’s get out of here before someone catches us.”  

Ellie laughed as he lifted her out of the cockpit and set her down, but as they walked out of the hangar, her hand still in his, she couldn’t help but glance back at the jet.  

“I think we just found your call sign, huh?” Her dad hummed as they stepped out into the night air, the sun now gone from the sky, replaced by the moon glow of a clear night. “Eleanor Rio Neven.” 

Ellie glanced up at him, her gap-toothed grin, wide. “I like it.” 

“Rio it is then. Hollywood and Rio.” 

One day, she thought. One day she’d earn that call sign. 

Ellie glanced at the email again to stick the office assignment in the forefront of her mind, standing in front of her open car trunk, before she locked her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her pressed pants. She was thankful she wasn’t Navy; she knew her strengths fashion wise, and it wasn’t the khaki tan colour of the service uniforms. Civilian contractors had the best of both worlds.  

Grabbing the heavy box of her things, Ellie dragged it from the trunk and hefted it, balancing it on her hip as she reached for the close trunk button.  

“Comm Center 11,” the security officer barely suppressed a chuckle as Ellie used the ledge in front of the glass to hold the box while she fished out her pass, “that’s clear across the airfield from here. You’ll have to take the perimeter; they’ll be running drills at this time. Pattern’s full.”  

“Thanks.” Ellie nodded, taking a moment to clip her pass to the waist of her pants before she lifted the box and used her hip to open the door onto the base.  

Shifting the weight of the box, Ellie tipped her chin as she passed a few officers and a few of the ground crew she half-recognized from the myriad of tours yesterday. Her things weren’t heavy individually—a few office supplies, models of the tech, schematics, a monitor, her MacBook—but stacked awkwardly, they made a clumsy, unbalanced load in the flimsy box with the caved in corners, reinforced with layers of packing tape.  

The morning sun was already intense, gleaming off the pavement so she had to squint as she moved forward, all her concentration on not dropping the box as she felt the cardboard bow under the shifting weight of her belongings, the occasional silence between the sound of jet engines and shouting staff filled by the steady clicking of her heels.  

“Need a hand?”  

The voice was unmistakable, easy, with a hint of banter around the edges, the barely concealed smugness cutting through the noise of the airfield. Ellie knew who it belonged almost immediately, the feeling of recognition hitting her square in the gut before she turned.  

Hangman. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ellie set her shoulders, adjusting her grip on the unwieldy box. Set the tone, she reminded herself, hearing Yan’s voice echo in the back of her mind. She had to hold her ground.   

Turning, her eyes landed on him immediately. He was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest, the khaki tan of his service khakis was definitely doing something for him, something dangerous for his sharp features and easy confidence. He knew he looked good. She could feel herself bristle slightly, caught off-guard by how cool and collected he looked, his lips quirked into a lazy grin, almost infuriatingly amused as he took her in. It felt tailor made to annoy the living hell out of her at this specific moment. He looked ready to swoop in if she so much as tipped the box the wrong way and she wasn’t sure if that grated on her nerves, or if it was something else entirely. 

“No, I don’t need a hand, Lieutenant Seresin,” she replied firmly, adjusting her grip on the box and her resolve. She turned around again resolutely ignoring him and starting off in her original direction, the corner of the already flimsy cardboard buckling, her belongings shifting inside as the box threatened to give way any moment. 

Sure enough, she heard his footsteps fall into pace beside her, an easy saunter as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re a civilian contractor; you can take it easy with the Lieutenant. You can call me Jake…” he began casually, before his voice dropped just enough to add weight to his next words, “since we’ve already been… acquainted.” 

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her pace slowing until she came to a stop. The box crumpled further under her suddenly tightened grip, and she thought she heard the tape coming away from the bottom of the box. She turned slightly, just enough to level him with a glare, all heat and warning. “I’m aware of what happened. That was… before.” Before she knew he was a real pilot. Before she knew cocky and smug were his default personality traits. “This is work, not—” 

“Not what?” he interrupted carefully, the mischievous glint in his eye almost twinkling now. “Not two, consenting adults who had a good time and now coincidentally find themselves working on the same base?” 

Great. So he hadn’t recently happened upon a semi-serious, short-term memory wiping head injury. How unlucky for her. She’d have to work on quashing the butterflies causing the stupid feelings in her stomach currently. The ones that told her she liked looking at his aggravating, annoying, idiotic, handsome face and hearing the charming southern drawl in his words. What was it that Yan had said? Another girl in a long line of hook ups? 

Ellie felt her face heat and not from the sun continuing to beat down. “That’s exactly what this is, actually. Coincidence. That’s it,” Ellie lifted her chin, defiant in the face of his easy charm, her voice dipping low as a crew member zipped past them in a golf cart. “One night. A one-time thing.” 

This time, he broke into a wry grin, but he didn’t speak, and Ellie felt as if he was waiting for her to continue, so she did. 

“Listen, I don’t know what your angle is, but whatever you think happened between us? It won’t happen again.” She kept her gaze trained on him, looking for the moment it might sink in. “I’m here to do a job, that’s it.” Ellie turned again, squinting against the sun as she continued on her way, her dramatic exit. She’d taken three full strides, the box betraying her confident pace, folding in as a piece of lose tape flapped in the breeze and stuck to her hand as her belongings rolled around, loose at the bottom, before Jake was at her side again.  

His eyebrow quirked up, but he didn’t look fazed. Amused, that was the more fitting word, Ellie thought. He looked entertained. By her struggle, by her refusal of his offer for help, even now as the box pitched, weight shifting oddly as the things inside moved around, uncontrolled. “My angle?” He repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it wasn’t butter. His tone was teasing and light. “So, you think I have an angle? You been doing a lot of thinking about me then, sweetheart?”  

Ellie rolled her eyes hard, and she picked up her pace. She pointedly ignored his question about her extracurricular thoughts, which definitely included thoughts of him despite her better judgement, but he didn’t need the confirmation. “I don’t know what it is, yet” the box pitched, and Hangman’s hand moved to right it, but Ellie angled it away from him, the sound of her monitor being smacked by the decorative arc reactor paperweight sending her stomach into a tip. “But yes, I’m sure you have one.”  

Firmly, Ellie pushed down the memory of Halloween. The chemistry between them had been a wildfire, quick, easy, starting as something small, possibly insignificant, and then grew unexpectedly, fast, all-consuming, searing, white hot, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It was only spoiled by seeing him again and realizing that he had been telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth the entire time. He was a pilot. A Lieutenant. A pilot just like every other pilot she’d ever met. Cocky, self-assured, overly confident, reckless. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, do me a favour—don’t. You’re not fooling me.”    

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He responded, smirking as he watched her wrestle with the box each step of the way. Part of her appreciated that he let her, liked that he respected that she’d said no and turned down his help.  

Before she could deflect, Ellie felt her heel catch just enough on an uneven bit of pavement, and the box, already unbalanced, began to teeter forward, the weight of the shifting contents making it more difficult to recover as she simultaneously tried to save her things and steady herself. Instinctively, she reached out to steady it, but Jake’s hand shot out, steadying her with one hand on her elbow and the other catching the box. He was good… really good. 

“Careful there,” he said softly, all hints of ribbing gone, his eyes locked on hers. “It’d be a shame if all that attitude ended up in a broken ankle.” 

Ellie felt a flush of frustration and something else she wasn’t willing to name, his touch igniting something in her she had to fight to press down again. Stiffening against his grasp, she quickly steadied herself and once she was sure the box was as balanced as she could get it, he carefully let go. In the wake of his skin on hers, she felt a coolness and part of her missed the contact. 

“I can handle myself, thank you” she murmured, but there was less bite. She left no room for him to question her assertation as she straightened herself to stand taller. Looking him dead in the eye was a feat, all six feet of him towering over her, even with the added height of her heels. 

“Never said you couldn’t.” He stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the smug look didn’t fade. “But just so we’re clear, if you ever need a hand, I’m around. For whatever. Work-related, of course.” 

Ellie didn’t answer, just tightened her grip on the box, ignoring the way her heart had quickened in that split second of closeness, his hand on her arm a beat longer than necessary after she steadied herself. She turned and continued toward her office, keeping her chin high and pretending she couldn’t feel Jake’s eyes on her. 

As she walked away, she heard him call out, “See you around, Ace.” 

“303,” Ellie murmured, clicking past the numbered doors, closed and plated with names that weren’t hers. “304,” she blew out a huff of air as her eyes flicked to the next door. 

She’d broken out into a bit of a sweat by the time she’d made it to Comms building 11, her calves aching. Now she knew why that security officer had laughed at the sight of her, the sad box of things in her grip already failing. Between the pace she’d kept up, a speed between confident stride and hectic hustle to get away from the man she’d been trying to avoid, and the distance between the parking lot and here, she’d hit her workout goal for the entire week. 

“305.” 

Rigby, E. Ellie glanced at the nameplate secured to the door and used her elbow to press down on the paddle handle, maneuvering expertly to use her hip to wedge the port open when she heard the click of the latch releasing. 

Turning into the space, Ellie paused for a moment, glancing back at the nameplate on the door for half a second longer when she took in the sheer size of the office. This had to be some kind of mistake, civilian contractors didn’t get windows, especially not eastern facing windows.  

The nameplate stuck to the door still said her name. The number above the port hadn’t changed. This was 305 and that was her name on the door. 

Stepping further inside, Ellie kicked the door closed behind herself, only registering that another person was in the room when they spoke. 

“Hey, Rio.”  

The call sign hit her, broadside, and drew her eyes immediately to the source.  

The man who leaned against the corner of the window ledge on the other side of the room, arms folded across his chest, was silhouetted against the bright morning light streaming in. Though his face had changed, laugh lines deepened around his eyes, the crease between his brow mostly cemented, likely exacerbated by all the young, hot shot pilots he’d watched breeze through Miramar over the years, she would recognize him anywhere. 

Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick. 

Ellie smirked as he stepped forward, taking the box from her without hesitation and sliding it onto the edge of the small coffee table, situated in front of the quaint sitting area which included a couch and an armchair. Free from the weight of the box, Ellie took a deep breath and, hands on hips, surveyed the space. “I think they made a mistake, Mav. This has to be your office. Way too big to be a civilian contractor’s, that’s for sure.”  

Maverick chuckled and Ellie could see the younger version of the man she’d met years ago behind the softened angles of his face. She guessed, in his eyes, she looked a lot different from the kid running around the airfield, causing trouble, getting in the way, herself. “Pulled a few strings. Anything for Hollywood’s kid.” 

She met his wry grin with a smirk of her own, a flash of gratitude filling her with a sense of the calm of familiarity, but she shook her head with a laugh. “Well, thanks for the royal treatment, but I think it’s a bit much.” Ellie gestured to the large space, the window behind Mav looking out onto the airfield, the grand mahogany desk waiting for a touch of personalization, an expanse of empty bookshelves behind it and the sitting area to her right.  

Her “office” at the base in Turkey had been little more than a space between two filing cabinets, open to the coffee station, water cooler and any Air Force pilot who thought she looked unassuming or unaware. She’d accepted that space as workable for over a year. This, by comparison, was at least seventeen steps up. For one, there was a door. “I was half expecting a supply closet, to be honest. Somewhere with more dust and a lot less… light.” 

Maverick closed the space between them, pulling her into a quick hug before he stepped back to really take her in, his hands framing her shoulders. “How’re you doing, kid? How’s Miramar treating you so far? Wouldn’t expect it’s anything Rio couldn’t handle.” 

“Rio,” Ellie tested out the old call sign, the second time she’d heard it from Mav in such a short time, a soft smile pulling up the corner of her lips slightly, “haven’t heard that one in a long time. I’m good.”  

She’d leave out the footnotes that included Hangman, or any possible complications that were attached to him for now. Instead, Ellie took a moment to look at Maverick, she hadn’t been expecting him to be here, hadn’t expected to feel the comfort in the presence of his easy nature. Seeing him settled the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, if only just a little bit. “So, they called you in to keep tabs on me, huh?” 

“Something like that.” A knowing look crossed his face, a smirk, the look of the old Maverick Ellie had known for the majority of her life. Cocky, self-assured, non-conformist, Maverick was the typical archetype of a pilot, at least every one that Ellie had ever encountered. “I figured I’d be a friendlier face than Admiral Simpson. Someone to get you started. I know Miramar’s not the… smoothest place to transition into.” 

Admiral Simpson. Stuffy, hard-lined, hard-nosed, Admiral Simpson. The same Admiral Simpson that had watch-checked and foot-tapped his way through her presentation the other day. The same Admiral she couldn’t help but feel would sideline her project if it meant delaying a mission for even half a minute. On the other hand, there was RADM Stark—welcoming and excited, and yet, there was something unreadable about her. Something that Ellie wasn’t sure she could trust behind the glad to have more estrogen in the room facade. 

There was a reason she had a reputation as someone to impress, there was a reason she was thriving in the man-made, old boys club that was the Navy. 

Ellie made a face, and Maverick simply pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows quietly. Maverick understood—he almost always did, especially when it came to following protocol, or rather, breaking protocol. Maverick hadn’t ever been any Admiral’s favourite pilot—especially not Admiral Benjamin, even if his daughter, Penny, thought differently. If anyone could help her navigate the difficult politics of Admirals and strict rules of engagement, it was Maverick. Maverick who, somehow, hadn’t been dishonourably discharged… yet.  

There was no doubt in her mind she would be thankful to have Maverick and his rule-bending in her corner as the go-between. 

“Smooth is overrated,” Ellie scoffed, shrugging. “I’m here to work—maybe make a few of you Navy boys cry in the process, if I’m lucky.” 

Maverick’s laugh was sudden and loud, genuine, the grin on his face wide.  

“Good,” he nodded, approvingly, patting her arm. “Well, in the spirit of smooth in the context of work, I’ve got some updates from the Admirals. Did you want to—” Maverick nodded toward the desk, and it took Ellie a moment to understand what he was suggesting, lost in the soft, blurred edges of nostalgia.  

“Yeah, of course. Better to just dive into the deep end with this, I guess.” 

Ellie rummaged for a second and dug her MacBook from the box, doing her best to ignore that there was a fresh dent in the lid as she swept over to the desk and Maverick settled in on the other side. 

“So I’ve had a chance to go over your reports and the preliminary data from the prototype testing on base in Turkey,” Mav started, his expression unreadable, though his posture suggested a relaxed, nonchalant approach. She supposed this was the most professional he would get with her. “It’s really impressive, Ellie. Your dad, he mentioned you were top of the game, he didn’t mention that you were running circles around the rest of us.” 

“I mean—” Ellie started, she kept her eyes on the screen of her laptop as it started up, “it’s all still relatively untested….” 

She pointedly ignored Mav’s mention of her dad. Hollywood wasn’t exactly a subject she wanted to touch on right now. Especially not with Maverick. She knew where it would lead. 

“Still. Must be something promising to get them to pull you here from halfway across the world.” Mav didn’t push the topic further as she saw him cross his legs, ankle on knee, in her peripheral. “It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of people if we can get it off the ground. I’m putting my weight behind this one, Rio—that counts for something. At least the Admirals think so.” 

“I hope so.” Ellie straightened herself in her chair, MacBook finally at the ready, despite a few broken pixels in the top left corner of the screen. “How do we tackle this then? Do I want to know what kind of resources they’re allocating for this?” 

Maverick paused for a moment, his hands passing over the armrests before folding his hands. “Good news or bad news?” 

“You know me, Mav—news is news.” 

“Well, they’re giving us pilots and significant testing time. They’ve put me on the testing schedules too, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me. We’ll run this as seamlessly as possible and get you the data you need to make this a reality.” Maverick’s fingers drummed on his knee, casual, calm. 

“Okay, that sounds like the good news to me….” Ellie cautiously made notes, her eyes returning to Mav as if she expected the other shoe to drop at any moment. So far, these were all workable resources. “I’ll get Records to pull the pilot files—”   

“No need, I’ve got them here.” Maverick reached to the chair beside him before sliding a folio across the desk toward her, thick with dossiers. “Fifteen pilots. They’re the best the Navy has to offer. All Top Gun graduates, all recalled for the current mission training. They’re giving us four of our choosing.” 

Ellie shrugged, her hand resting on the top of the stack of files, her thumb flipping through the first few tabs with call signs. Bob, Coyote, Duke, she nodded slowly, processing. “Well, to be honest, I was expecting far less—”  

“We have to run the testing of your tech alongside the mission training. They’re giving us two and a half months.” Maverick’s words hung in the air for a long moment, a moment in which Ellie’s eyes snapped to his and she searched for the lie there she knew she wouldn’t find. Maverick didn’t lie, he wasn’t the type. 

And there it was: the other shoe. 

Two and a half months. The initial research alone had taken years. Years of algorithm building, years of theoretical practice, years of begging for funding. Hell, the prototype alone had taken a year to create in a lab with her close oversight. Two and a half months was a drop in the ocean, a near impossibility. This was an out of the frying pan and into the heat situation if Ellie had ever seen one. “No pressure, right?” 

“RADM Stark is in our corner for now—Admiral Simpson has made it clear he’ll recommend moving forward with the mission with or without your tech,” Maverick didn’t sugar coat it and Ellie appreciated that about him—it wasn’t in his nature to soften the blow. “I think you and I would both prefer that it’s with. The more of these pilots we can bring home, the better.” 

Ellie glanced at the stack of files again, folded in the larger tan manila, and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay then, deep ending this.” 

“Pick your top candidates based on the needs of the tech and the testing. I’m looking forward to reading your report.” Maverick tapped the corner of the desk, standing before shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Let’s say my office. Tomorrow morning, 0800 sharp. Bring coffee.” 

“Careful Mav,” Ellie tutted, her eyebrow raised in a teasing way as she looked up at him over the top of her computer screen, “that sounds an awful lot like protocol. You’ve got a reputation for throwing out the rulebook to uphold around here.” 

Maverick waved her off as he headed for the door and Ellie watched him pause for just a moment, halfway out, his hand on the knob. “This isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park, kid. But if there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s you. Whether the name on the door is Neven or not—” Mav’s knuckles rapped against the solid wood, just under the name plate displaying her mother’s maiden name, “—the Nevens have a way of making things happen. You’re where you’re meant to be.” 

“Thanks.” 

Maverick offered her a small smile, cleared his throat and then stepped out of the door. “Oh, Ellie?” Maverick’s head was back through the door, his finger pointing to the shelving behind her. “I brought you a little office warming gift.” 

Ellie quickly found the small potted fern, the decorative pot it sat in painted with Be-LEAF in Yourself in neat block lettering. Ellie lifted the pot, turning with a raised eyebrow, displaying the saying. 

“Penny picked it out.” Mav shrugged, as if he himself were above the plant pun. When Ellie’s gaze didn’t shift, Mav waved a hand and retreated again. “0800 sharp, Rio. Two sugars, no dairy.” 

With a dry chuckle, Ellie turned back to the shelf, her eyes quickly finding something else where the pot had been, hidden. 

The photo in the frame was slightly faded, but the energy captured within the image felt timeless. It was a group shot, clearly taken at Miramar a lifetime ago, the California sun bright overhead, casting shadows across the tarmac where the four men stood, exuding effortless swagger. The aura of young pilots in their prime. 

Maverick was front and center, his signature aviators reflecting a blurred image of the photo taker, a familiar cocky grin stretching across his face. His flight suit was unzipped at the top, revealing the white T-shirt underneath. To his right, Ellie’s eyes focused on her dad. His posture, shoulders relaxed, mirrored Maverick’s, his smile easy but sharp, his trademark confidence that matched his call sign. 

Next to him, Wolfman, her dad’s RIO, his stance a little more casual but no less self-assured. He had an arm slung around Hollywood’s shoulder; their camaraderie apparent even through the static image. His grin was wide and mischievous, like he had just cracked a joke that made Hollywood laugh. Wolfman was always the one for jokes—always inappropriate, never failing to make her dad laugh. 

On the far left, slightly more composed but no less iconic, stood Iceman. His jaw was set, his aviators pushed up into his blond hair as he looked at the camera with a subtle smirk. Even in the informal setting, he carried himself with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew he was the best. 

The four of them stood against the backdrop of an F-14 Tomcat, the jet’s sleek frame gleaming in the sunlight. 

It was a snapshot of a time when they were young, fearless, and seemingly invincible—a moment frozen in time, untouched by the years and the weight of everything that would come after. In the reflection of the glass, Ellie could just make out her own face as she refocused, her eyes soft and her brow pulled together. 

Rolling her eyes, Ellie shook herself out of her own thoughts, scoffing as she snapped the picture face down, its support leg sticking up like that of a dead bug. 

If she wanted to survive here, if she had any hope of making a difference, she would need to keep her head on straight. No more distractions. 

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to leave here with something other than lint in your pockets, Bradshaw.”  

Jake grabbed the triangle and racked the balls as Rooster groaned, the wad of bills in the fold that came out of his pocket thinner than it had been at the beginning of the evening. He thumbed out another twenty and placed it on top of the growing pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table before he took a swig of beer. “Keep taking my money, Hangman and you’ll have to tell Nic why I can’t take her out on Friday.”  

“Oh, you want me to tell your girl her boyfriend can’t handle his balls?” Hangman smirked, shifting the triangle up to the foot spot on the table before carefully removing the rack. “You know, I’d be real happy to do that, Rooster.” Grabbing his cue, Jake nodded across the table, “how ’bout I let you break first then, give you a head start.”  

As Rooster leaned over the table to line up the break, Jake grabbed his beer, leaning up against the wall. The late-day sun streamed in through the windows of the Hard Deck, casting long shadows across the scuffed hardwood, the warm glow of golden hour adding a certain charm to the scrappy, Navy watering hole. It was routine by now, mission training, the Hard Deck, hustling pool for a little extra spending money, embarrassing Rooster who always seemed eager to try to prove he was better than Jake at the game. Wash, rinse, repeat. Steady pace for a Tuesday night. But tonight, Jake’s mind wasn’t on the pool game, or the growing pile of Rooster’s cash.  

Instead, it was occupied by thoughts of a particular Radar Tech who had, in two short days, carved out a space in his head: Eleanor Rigby. That surprised Jake—surprised him in ways that took the routine out of his usual one-night M.O. 

After he’d seen her that morning, struggling with the box, almost comically, and she refused his help outright, the end of the day had come quickly. Quicker than Jake had anticipated. Between the packed mission training and the maneuver refreshers, his head had been on a swivel, his eyes peeled, but he hadn’t managed to catch her again. 

The sharp crack of the cue ball breaking and scattering the striped and solids, pulled Jake’s focus back to the game. Rooster managed to sink one solid, smirking as he stepped back to find himself for another viable shot.  

“Nice shot, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, his eyes twinkling as he set down his bottle on the edge of a nearby high-top table. “I think this might be the first time you’ve hit something clean all week.”  

Rooster’s breathy laugh sounded for just a moment, his eyes sizing up the next shot. “Just wait, Bagman,” Rooster murmured, leaning over to line up his cue again. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be asking me for a loan.”  

“Bold for someone down to their last twenty.” Jake smirked, chalking his own cue. He waited for Rooster to take his shot—missing a corner pocket by a hairsbreadth—before stepping in to size up the table, tutting. “Might have to start playing some tunes for tips,” he nodded over to the piano in the corner. 

They rotated between trading teasing banter and goading remarks for a moment before Jake’s inquiring mind got the better of him, swimming with thoughts of her face, the way she looked at him within the new frame that existed outside of their Halloween encounter. 

“So,” Jake started, casually, nonchalant, as he chose his next shot, Rooster having missed his solid, and bent to take aim, lining up a striped ball with the corner pocket. “We have a new radar tech or something—Rigby?” Jake played dumb, played disinterested, acted as if he didn’t know her name, pretended he didn’t like the way the mark his mouth had left on her neck stuck out in sharp contrast to her put together, professional look the other day. 

As he looked up from under his lashes, Jake could see Rooster pause mid-sip of his beer, eyebrow raised. “Rigsy? Radar Tech, Engineer I think the proper term is. She’s Nic’s best friend. Her roommate now too, actually.” Rooster set his beer down carefully, “Why? What’s your angle?” 

Rigsy. So Rooster knew her outside of work. Jake carefully stored the information, his eyes never leaving the cue ball and the line of aim with the striped ball. “No angle,” he replied evenly, taking the shot and sinking the striped ball and another in its path with ease. “Just curious. Seems like she’s got the brass wrapped around her finger already.” 

“That’s because she’s good at what she does,” Rooster said, stepping away to the bar and grabbing two more bottles of beer before he returned to the table. “Smart, like, real smart. No nonsense, she won’t put up with any crap. Not the usual type you’d chase, though,” 

Jake took the shot, and the ball ricocheted off the pocket point in a way he hadn’t expected, missing the striped ball he’d lined up with that pocket, wide. Straightening, he chuckled, leaning against his cue stick, stepping back for Rooster’s turn. “Who says I’m chasin’, Bradshaw?”  

Rooster’s response was a snort as he stepped up to the table. “Sure, man, whatever you say,” he glanced up at Jake, a knowing look crossing his face, eyes incredulous, eyebrow peaked. “You don’t exactly have a reputation for curiosity without motive, Seresin.” 

Jake smirked, but didn’t respond, moving in to take another shot instead when Rooster missed his second shot and Jake sunk two more stripes in quick succession. He felt Rooster’s gaze lingering, and despite trying to play it cool, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that had been brewing since he’d seen her on Halloween. More so since seeing her here, at Miramar again, of all places. When she’d let him come back to her place and he’d fucked her until her knees shook, he hadn’t expected to see her again. Now, now he thought about what it would have been like if she’d known his name then, what it would sound like for her to moan it, beg him for more. It was enough to drive him dangerously close to mad. 

Jake missed the next shot, his mind hazed with the thought. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest and tried to act uninterested. “Say I’m curious for… curiosity’s sake: what’s her deal? Anything I should know?” 

“Oh shit—you really don’t know…” Rooster raised an eyebrow, taking a deep swig of his beer, studying the label as he tried to contain his smirk, before replying. “You don’t know who her old man is, do you?” 

Jake froze slightly at that, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed at the pilot across the table from him. “Her old man?” 

Rooster chuckled and shook his head, his tone low as he tapped the cue stick on the floor. “Rick Neven. Hollywood. Shot down in combat on a mission over the Gulf. Made sure his WSO got out first and ejected too late just above hard deck. Broke his back in three places. Docs said it was nothing short of a miracle he was alive, but that he’d never walk again.” 

Jake blinked, the weight of the name hitting him immediately. Hollywood. One of the legends. The same pilot whose photo was framed alongside Maverick and Iceman, Goose and Slider in the halls all around base. He took a breath, trying to process it, while trying his best to keep composure. “You tellin’ me she’s Neven’s kid?”  

Rooster nodded, continuing as if he knew the exact thoughts running through Jake’s mind. “Yeah, man. That’s Rigsy’s dad. Big shadow to live under. She’s been pretty much anti-pilot her whole life, from what I’ve gathered.” 

Jake felt the words settle in his gut, realizing just how tangled this was becoming. Ellie wasn’t just some random civilian contractor; she came with baggage, a history that had been shaped by the same world they both lived in—but from a very different perspective. And after their Halloween encounter, he suddenly understood why she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. It also explained the guardedness in her eyes, the bite in her sarcasm. 

“She doesn’t really talk about him much,” Rooster added, his voice dropping slightly, as if sensing Jake’s shift in mood. Rooster had always been good at that, even if Jake didn’t want to admit it. “Nic says it’s a sore spot. That and her folks splitting.” 

Jake set his cue down, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wrap his head around it. “Damn.” 

“You’re in over your head with that one, Hangman,” Rooster said with a knowing smirk. “She’s not your usual type, and if you somehow manage to get past all those SAMs she’s throwing out, she sure as hell won’t make it easy.” 

“Wouldn’t be any fun if she did, Rooster.” Jake let out a dry chuckle, picking up his beer and taking a long drink. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she did.” 

tags bbs: @hookslove1592 @mrsevans90 @avengersfan25 @jbennsquared @dempy @obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3 @yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96

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[redfurrycat]

❗️This White Collar and Top Gun fusion officially to become a multi-chaptered fic.❗️

White Collar and Top Gun Fusion

Special Agent for the FBI in the white-collar crimes division Bradley Bradshaw once arrested white-collar criminal Jake Seresin, alias the Hangman.

The Hangman is a charming and sophisticated con artist known as such because he cockily leaves a hangman game on each crime scene (leading to his next theft). However, Agent Bradshaw cracks his hangman code which has allowed him to finally capture the elusive criminal.

(Un)fortunately, his criminal talents in counterfeiting are coveted by the white-collar crimes division. The FBI IceBoss Tom Kazansky strikes a deal with him: serving his remaining four-year sentence as an anklet-wearing consultant to the FBI. Seresin accepts the deal as long as he gets Agent Bradshaw as his handler. (What? The guy has brains and is sweet on the eye –his moustache notwithstanding–, and he likes ‘hem smart and pretty.)

Agent Bradshaw has no choice but to obey his bossdad. He’s thus now working with the infuriating, cunning, and not at all appealing criminal alongside his newly formed white-collar team –Agents Natasha Trace and Bob Floyd. The team has a particularly high solved-cases rate, mainly due to the duo très spécial working together.

FBI consultant Jake Seresin has the time of his life: he lives in a beautiful and richly decorated house with Penny Benjamin, the charming landlady; he wears her late husband’s styled suits and hats; he finds his criminal and genius best friend Javy Machado again and often asks him for help in various FBI cases…

About that…He is surprised how much he likes using his devilishly almost-too-good-to-be-true talents (‘ugh’, says Bradley, every single time) for the other side of the law. His colleagues Trace and Floyd are really nice too: he banters with Phoenix like he would his own sister, and fondly annoys Bob like he would a little brother.

He expects even less to fall for Agent Bradshaw. Bradley. The Hawaiian-shirt-wearing and by-the-book special agent appears to be a little grumpy on the outside, especially with him, but Jake is trying to shatter Bradley’s walls, and he will succeed eventually. They have numerous evening talks during which they share personal details, and pretty much bicker about every possible subject.

Jake also meets the IceBoss’ trophy wife and Bradley’s godfather, Pete (‘Call me Maverick’) Mitchell. Maverick is a mechanic and an engineer, and he does some consultant work when the FBI needs his expertise. These two become thick as thieves, as they have similar minds, and Maverick often invites Jake for dinner (Bradley whines ‘Mav, whyyyyyyyyy?!’ meanwhile Ice is questioning his husband’s –matchmaking–motives…‘Trust me IceBaby, I know what I’m doing.’)

It is Mav who convinces Jake to go for it, because his oblivious godson would never act on his feelings, he’s too cautious (‘Ah. The snug-on-his-perch type’…..‘Well, yeah, but he has his reasons.’). However, Mav is sure he likes Jake because Ice has told him Bradley often comes in his office to rant about Hangman (‘Ice, he’s yet again charming such and such, he’s unprofessional!’… Also Ice has the patience of a saint).

Thus Jake begins wooing Bradley à la Hangman: he leaves him complimentary notes disguised as hangman games on his desk, he delivers perfect art forgeries in Bradley’s effigy (paintings, sculptures, drawings,…) at his home –Bradley’s both scandalised and reluctantly charmed– and, on one memorable occasion, Bradley’s gifted a Carrara-marbled, life-sized and very much naked statue of Jake. He stays speechless for an abnormal amount of time and can’t look Jake in the eye (héhé) for some time. He’ll deny it, but Bradley keeps the statue. Of course, he keeps the statue! Finally, Jake’s last and most romantic move is to offer Bradley a piano he's personally restored! It’s the final straw for Bradley: he jumps him so hard his neighbours call the police to report *suspicious* noise.

[After their “strenuous” activities, Jake asks Bradley if he has succeeded in accomplishing his most spectacular heist.

Bradley: And what would that be?

Jake: Have I finally succeeded in stealing your heart?

Bradley: For a seductive bastard, you are ridiculously corny sometimes…but if you must know. Yeah, you did.]

Once they get their act together, Bradley feels comfortable enough to do some wooing of his own: he serenades Jake with skillful renditions of 'Smooth Criminal' on the piano as well as old romantic ballads.

[vivalas-vega]

top gun: maverick masterlist

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key: ✩ author’s favorite ♢ angst ♡ fluff ⚤ m/f smut ⚢ f/f smut

JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN

multi-part series:

✩ new perspectives ♢ ♡ ⚤ (ongoing) 

You and Jake Seresin have been inseparable since age ten... somewhere along the way you fell in love and when college and flight school rolls around you have to make the hardest decision of your life.

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

new perspectives universe one shots + drabbles

match ♡

Jake surprises you at your match day ceremony.

j&j wedding moodboard

easier ♢ ♡ (ongoing)

You secure your first confirmed air-to-air kill on your first mission as team leader... only no one told you how difficult it would be to process and the only person who can understand what you're going through steps in to help.

one / two 

move on ♢ (ongoing)

The love of your life vanishes in the middle of the night leaving you reeling and leaning on the only person you can still trust.

one / two / three

✩ real friends ♢ ♡ (on hiatus)

One day your competitive working relationship with Jake Seresin takes a hit and results in a pact between the two of you that you never saw coming.

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

shot through the heart ♡ / and you’re to blame ♡ ⚤ / you give love a bad name (mini-series)

Pushed together planning your best friends wedding your forced to notice someone you'd previously overlooked.

one-shots/requests:

✩ flygirl ♡ ⚤ (one-shot)

The Dagger Squad, and more specifically Jake Seresin, decide it's time their favorite bartender experience life in a Super Hornet.

✩ late ♢ ♡

A delayed period forces you to have a conversation you've been putting off with your boyfriend.

mistletoe ♡

Jake comes home to find you amidst a winter wonderland and can't help but fall more in love with you and your spirit.

✩ sunshine ♢ ♡

You and Jake are recalled to Top Gun... only problem? Jake has no idea you're in the Navy.

before he cheats ♡ (request)

While drinking away your breakup at the bar, Jake finds out about your extracurricular activities and steps in.

worry ♢ ♡ (request)

Stressed and overworked, your husband steps in to remind you to take care of yourself before taking care of others.

birdstrike ♢ ♡ (request)

Jake grapples with the thought of losing you after an accident in the air leaves him rattled.

family dinner ♢ ♡ (request)

You and Jake attend dinner with your parents, a diligent homemaker and retired Navy hotshot, and when your parents have their own ideas about your trajectory in life, Jake steps in to stand up for you.

into you ♢ ♡ (request)

Forced to watch the man you want and your best friend getting closer, you push them both away without bothering to clarify the situation.

NATASHA 'PHOENIX' TRACE

boyfriend ⚢ (one-shot)

Phoenix steps in to give you the attention you deserve when your boyfriend spends the night neglecting you.

at your pace ♢ ♡ (request)

Your relationship with Natasha has remained a secret as long as you've been in North Island, until her backseater puts the pieces together and gives her the nudge she needs to come out to her team.

BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

firecracker ♢ ♡ (on hiatus)

When you and your childhood best friend are recalled for the same high stakes mission you have to navigate ever-changing relationships along with keeping your familial name a secret.

one / two

✩ longshot ♢ ♡ ⚤

A series of unfortunate events lead you back to your hometown and straight to the professor that's been on your mind ever since you graduated.

one

unexpected ♡ ⚤

An educational trip to the waterfront for Fleet Weeks ends in a handsome naval aviator asking you on a date.

one

DAGGER SQUAD

make the friendship bracelets ♡ (one-shot)

On a whim you decide to surprise the squad with a token of your appreciation.

[thewulf]

Fool || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Can you write something about hangman x pilot!reader? also make it super fluffy? not a specific request I know, but I've having trouble finding new things to read. thank you!!

A/N: Okay! This was a BLAST to write! TY for the request!! Love my main man. This turned out way more angsty and spicy(ish) than I imagined but I think you'll love it. Let me know your thoughts!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 4.2k +

“You can’t be fucking serious Seresin.” You nearly growled as you watched Hangman roll to the right after you expressly told him not to fucking roll to the right. He was supposed to stay straight ahead and head back to the aircraft carrier. But did he listen? No, he did not. His stupid big ass cocky brain would never take any advice. Soon enough it could cost him his life. One of these days it could really hurt him.

You heard him laugh. Laugh! The balls on that man were something else, “Don’t worry Wolfie. I’ll be just fine.”

You shook your head following as closely behind as you could. You heard your WSO, Beamer, curse behind you as you pressed your jet on further, faster. She could do it. You knew her limits. It’s what Maverick trained you for. You were built for this. Ready for this.

“What’s wrong?” You continued looking for Hangman, but he was going just as fast as you were.

“Bogies ahead. Six o’clock. Two of them.” Beamer shouted from behind you spotting something on the radar.

“I don’t think they’re friendly Beamer. Fuck, Hangman, did you copy?” You gunned it trying your hardest to catch up, but the motherfucker had other plans.

“What’s that?” You could practically hear the smirk dripping off his face with that comment alone. It took everything in your not to scream at the idiot of a man. You needed to get the hell over there to help him, but he was moving so god damn fast in the other direction. You’d never be able to catch him. Faster it was.

“Not friendly! Bandits! Six and eight Hangman!” Beamer shouted back in just as much frustration you seemed to be in. He didn’t have a back seater letting him know when objects were incoming. He was flying into what looked to be a trap.

“Shit.” You heard a pause before all hell broke loose on his end, “Wolf, got one on my ass.” He grunted.

“I’m on my way.” Panic rose through your chest, but you couldn’t freak out. Not yet anyway. This is when you needed to relax. Focus on the problem. The bandits. You needed to take the bastard that was following Hangman out. Calm down. Slow your heartbeat. Speed up. You could do this.

“Beamer, where are they?” You asked seemingly losing sight of them once you made it through the cloud bank. Where in the hell was that second bandit?

“20 degrees to your left, now!” He answered quickly forcing you to divert left. You dove seeing the planes up ahead. F-18 vs F-18 Super Hornet, it was up to the best pilot now. You gulped kicking up your speed even faster. Ignoring the grunt of your WSO you knew he was likely being flown into something bad. Hurry Wolf. Hurry. You pressed forward even faster. 690 knots ticketed upwards of 700 knots. You were blazing through the atmosphere. It was a damn good thing he was flying low, or you wouldn’t have been able to catch up.

710 knots. That was officially the fast you’ve ever flown. It didn’t seem like enough though. Like you weren’t going to make it soon enough.

“Hangman! Bank right 45 degrees.” You yelled knowing it’d give you a little more of a chance to catch up.

Thank God he actually fucking listened to you this time. His jet turned forcing the other F-18 to overshoot a bit. You knew the plan and had already been banking giving you the perfect shot on the enemy jet.

“Lock on Beamer!” You were yelling at your wizzo now. Sweat poured down your face as you maneuvered into a better position to help him lock onto the clueless pilot.

"Target locked!" He pressed on the second you heard the lock sound.

“Firing missiles.” As quickly as he spoke your hands were hitting the joy sticks. One second. Two. Three and then four.

“Target hit!” Beamer yelled out in joy seeing one of the missiles land dead on. You let out a sigh of relief seeing the other pilot was able to eject on time. As fucked up as everything was you never wanted to take a life. You’d always prayed they’d make it out in time. You’ve taken three jets down now. Tied with Jake. You saw two eject. You pretended the third did.

The celebration didn’t last for too long when you heard your jet being locked on, “Fuck.” You grumbled immediately heading for a nosedive. There was that second bandit. In hindsight you probably should’ve took your jet straight up, not down. You didn’t have much air space left to utilize at such a low altitude.

“Wolfie! 30 degrees to your right.” Hangman didn’t elaborate any further.

You had to trust him. That was rule number one in the field. Always trust your wingman and vice versa. Listening to him you punched it after leveling out and turning your joystick to the right.

“Shit, missed the shot.” Hangman grumbled, “Keep flying, I’ll come back around.”

“Hang on.” You spoke to Beamer after hearing his miss. Pressing the throttle all the way forward you nearly stalled the engines that were starving for the oxygen rich air.

“What are you doing?” Your WSO nearly gasped hearing almost every alarm on the jet ring simultaneously. You were going to starve the fucking engines if you didn’t move soon.

You smiled knowing this move was saved for very special occasions, “A move Maverick taught me.”

“Oh Christ.” He closed his eyes knowing whatever was about to happen wouldn’t be good for him. You were probably going to bend the damn air frame or something crazy like that. Mav tried to teach everybody. You were just one of the few who actually tried his bat shit insane moves.

“Relax B.” You grinned punching it once you saw the enemy jet fly by you.

“I’m going to throw up.” You could hear the sarcasm on his voice. He grunted as his butt hit the seat after floating for far too long.

You laughed pushing your jet once again. 620 knots. 630. 640. Come on baby. Let’s get moving.

“You’re about as well trained as Hangman up here. Puking over a little g-force?” You snickered to yourself knowing you could gut punch the both of them. Two birds one stone or whatever they say.

“Hey!” You heard both of them shout in unison. Men. They were just too fucking easy.

690 knots. 700. You heard Beamer groan from the back seat. You were really putting him through it on this mission weren’t you? A little bit more and you’d be able to shoot that jet down too. 710.

The smile adorning your face probably looked maniacal. But you didn’t care. You entered into another zone when you were in the air. It was kill or be killed in the air. Notably when you were in a dogfight. The odds were even higher.

“Target locked!”

You barely heard your wizzo before you fired for the jet ahead.

“Target hit!” He yelled in triumph. You slowed down before making a turn looking for a parachute. For anything. Kill number four. Ahead of Jake. One behind Mav. Two kills in one run. That was pretty damn remarkable. You heard muffled cheers in your ears but didn’t see a parachute. Four kills. Two chutes. Two nothings. Did that make you a killer?

“What the fuck was that?” You tossed your helmet to the side walking towards him. Charging towards him really. He just got you so damn worked up. The fucking idiot he was. A dumb arrogant idiot asshole. Now, you just needed to say it to his face.

He cocked his head to the side, “Thought I had him.” A slow smile spreading over his face seeing you so worked up.

You would’ve loved to punch him square in the nose, but you were on the carrier. In the middle of the ocean. That was the dumbest thing you could probably do. You weren’t even looking for a fucking thanks. Just an apology would be nice, “You’re such a…” You scrunched your nose up once you got to him. He was taller than you, by a lot. Still didn’t intimidate you. But you had to look up to him, quite literally.

His smirk grew, “Yes, doll? I’m a what?”

Shaking your head your pointed your finger right as his chest, “Fool. Jake Seresin. You’re such a damn fool.” You nearly hissed before spun around walking back for your helmet. You’d probably need to get that checked out. You threw it down pretty hard in your fit of rage.

In all your time working with him had you been so angry with the man. Hell, you’d even respected him a tad before this mission. The two of you were never close but you seemed to work well together, train well together. You knew his type and you were able to deal with it.

“Hey there! Slow down.” He grabbed your arm gently before your yanked it right back from him, “Have you been watching those sappy love drama movies? What’s it called? Pride and something? Fool. Who says that?” You felt the blood inside you boiling now. He really knew how to push it.

Giving him an almost bewildered look, you answered him, “Can you take anything seriously?” It was evident you were more than angry now. He knew he needed to tone down the jokes.

He put his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry then.” He didn’t look sorry. Words meant nothing to you. Words were useless without action. Pointless. Words got people killed. Actions did too but words always stung worse.

You shook your head not accepting his apology, “For what Hangman? What are you actually sorry for?” It wasn’t the anger that got to him it was the sheer look of disappointment that crossed your eyes that made him reevaluate everything.

“I’m sorry you got chased.” He sounded unsure of his reply. Like he didn’t really know what he was apologizing for. Did he? Did he know why you were so upset? He didn’t. He didn’t have a clue.

You rolled your eyes before walking away again. You had to give him a bit of credit though, he sure kept tying, “You just don’t get it.” You sighed walking towards the locker rooms. At least there you’d get a reprieve from the arrogant man.

He panicked and followed you, “Get what?”

You stopped dead in your tracks. You weren’t like the other guys in your squadron. You loved flying but you hated killing. Hated the thought of taking somebody away from their families. It hurt you. Destroyed you. You thought about leaving for just that reason. And today? You’d probably killed a man or woman. Maybe even two. You never actually knew. And it was for nothing. It shouldn’t have happened. If he would’ve just listened to you the bandits wouldn’t have even spotted you. All that for naught.

“You think I like taking jets down? Killing people? Do you seriously think that I find enjoyment out of that? It makes me sick when I have to do things like that. That could’ve been somebodies dad. Somebodies daughter. Who the fuck knows Jake? I don’t. I never will. And now they’re just gone?” You were whisper shouting now. You’d never admitted anything like this to anybody. Not even your family. No therapist, military or civilian knew either. They didn’t need to know. So, you didn’t tell them. Not a soul, “If you just would have fucking listened to me I wouldn’t have had to do that!” Your voice was shaky now as you took off for the locker rooms. Tears on the edge of spilling over. You peered around thankful nobody was in ear shot. It was never a good thing to cry at work. You had like fifteen minutes before you had to report back for debrief. Fifteen minutes to get it the fuck together.

Jake just stood there as you dashed away. He could’ve followed but he knew you needed your space. You looked so hurt. So betrayed. He walked over to the locker room waiting for you to come out. You had to come out at some point.

He grabbed you when you walked out of the locker room. Your allowed yourself to cry for a few moments before you snapped it back together. You just hoped it didn’t show in your eyes.

It did. Jake saw it through your tear stained cheeks and your red rimmed eyes. He frowned feeling awful, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I… I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly.” You refused to look at him. You were still upset. You’d be upset for a little bit before you’d shake it off. It’s not like you had a choice. You’d have to fly with him again. You would have to figure this out at some point.

He looked down hearing the icy snap coming from you. You weren’t usually so forward with your emotions. Usually, you were cool calm and collected one. The one that fell in line. The one who knew her place was limited as a woman, and she needed to be strategic about it.

“Either say something or let me go. We’ve got a debriefing to get to.”

He snapped out of it, “They’ll wait on us, come on.” He took your hand without a second thought guiding you to the side of the carrier. He was smart, not many people came over here. There was a very low chance of getting caught back here. You let him guide you without much thought. You were afraid to admit how much his touch had an effect on you. It felt like there was a fire ignited in your fingertips creeping up your arm.

You didn’t want to admit that’s also why you were so worked up. You didn’t know how to tell the man that you had a rather large crush on him. How you wanted to be the one he flirted with at the bars. How you wanted to be the one he was so dead set on kissing at the end of the night. Who he got to take home. You wanted it. You and only you.

Only problem is you were you. You were one of the dudes. Wolfie. You’d gotten your call sign because you were all bark and all bite. You followed through. Tough as a wolf backed against a wall. You were flattered, truly. But it made you a guy. Not a girl. Not somebody he would think of. You’d probably be better off if you just cut it off altogether with Navy men and went for a civ guy. It’d be easier. Less games.

His expression softened seeing you in the anxious state you were in. You really didn’t like conflict. You didn’t enjoy being mad at people. You were a simple girl who liked resolution. It wasn’t like you get so angry, “Look, Y/N…” He sighed. He wasn’t good at this either. Sure, Hangman was a persona but owning up to mistakes that could’ve cost you your life? That was tough.

“I fucked up Y/N. I shouldn’t have done that. I overestimated my abilities. I could’ve gotten you hurt. I could’ve gotten shot down. It was dumb. And I put you in an awful spot. I’m so sorry. Truly.” He rambled off quickly.

Your eyes narrowed as your searched for any sort of sarcasm, “You mean it?”

He nodded his head looking away from you, “Yeah. I messed up.”

Unfolding your arms from your chest you gave him a curt nod, “Okay.”

“Okay?” He looked at you with a newfound hope in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. It’s fine. Don’t do it again you dumb arrogant asshole.” A small smile crept over your lips letting him know you were just teasing. There was some hint of truth there though. He was a dumb arrogant asshole in that moment.

He pulled you into a hug. One that was different than the normal ones he gave you. This one was more meaningful. More thoughtful. He squeezed you a little bit tighter than he ever had before. Pulled you into his chest just a touch harder. He held you a little bit longer than usual.

“Thank you for saving my ass.” He whispered once he let you go from his embrace.

“I got your back. Any day. Any night. You know that Seresin.”

He nodding pulling you back in. How had he not seen it before? How had he not seen the treasure that you were right in front of his face. God, you were striking. You were everything he needed in a life partner. You were incredibly smart, so self-assured, beautiful beyond words, wittier than he could ever imagine, made him smile when he needed it, knew the right words too say… he was a dumb arrogant asshole. He liked you. Hell, he might’ve already fallen in love with you without even realizing it.

“Seeing that bandit chase you down was awful. And then when I missed… I’m so sorry. I failed you in every way.” You’d never heard Jake so sincere. Never heard him admit to so many fuck ups. It made you feel things you hadn’t ever before for him. Like he wasn’t just that fucking dickhead persona. There might’ve been a decent human being under the character you were sure he was playing.

You shrugged. Trying to play it off. You were never scared. You were determined to be the best in that moment. You had to be the best in that moment, or it could be you at the bottom of the ocean. A shiver ripped down your spine at the thought. It hit you sometimes just how damn dangerous your job was.

“It’s fine. Just listen next time? Okay?” It felt like for once you were actually getting through to the man. It’d been so surface level in the half a year you’d been stationed with him. This was a surprise, a pleasant one though.

“You got it Wolfie.” He smiled letting his hand drop from your shoulder. You really liked how it felt there. Not that you’d admit it.

“Let’s go. We gotta go get our asses chewed out by Cyclone.” You sighed not looking forward to it. It was supposed to be a simple bombing. Get it and get out. Clearly, that didn’t happen and now he probably had to do a lot more paperwork than he was expecting. Shooting down two enemy fighter jets was more serious than you would think. You were surely going to get interviewed over it.

“Don’t worry doll. I’ll take the heat.” He pushed you forward by placing his fingertips to the small of your back. You thanked your lucky stars you were in your flight suit, and he couldn’t see sheer amount of goosebumps that exploded across your body from his touch. God, how embarrassing. He didn’t even have to try, and you were already weak.

“You better. It was your fault after all.” You countered feeling more and more like yourself as you talked it out with Jake. This was the guy you had a mad crush on. Jake. Not Hangman. Jake Seresin, the cowboy from Texas.

He shook his head with a growing smile on his face, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” It slipped out so quickly Jake wasn’t sure if he actually said it. But there it was. It was out there now. You had to have known how adorable he really found you.

Your head whipped around quickly giving him your own version of a smirk, “You think?”

He had a choice. Play it off or go all in. He had hardly thought this was how his day was going to go. He didn’t even know he really liked you like that earlier this morning. Now here he was ready to admit to it? What in the hell was even happening? But who was he kidding? He’d be flat out lying to deny it. He wasn’t a liar.

“Know so.” He shot you a wink before grabbing a loop on your flight suit to keep you on pace with him. Fuck it. He’d decided he was going all in on you now. Might as well step his flirting game up with you while he was at it.

You were so shocked by his admission you hadn’t even realized the smooth ass move he pulled by literally pulling you along with him. The move was so confident you were practically on your knees already. He looked over seeing your dazed expression.

His deep chuckle brought you back to the present, “What’s the matter darlin’? Cat got your tongue?” He dropped his hand from the loop so close your chest.

You didn’t drop your eyes from his hand that had pulled you along with him, “No. Just thinking.”

“What about?” He raised his eyebrows challenging you. He was clearly feeling a whole lot better. He was laying it on thick.

“Work.” It wasn’t a lie. He was work. He was all you were able to think about.

He smirked as he knowingly brushed his hand along yours. God he was a pro. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, “Sure doll. I think you’re lying though. You were thinking about me.”

You shook your head quickly not daring to draw your hand away, “In your dreams Seresin.”

He ran his index finger along your pinky, taking any touch he could get, “What if I told you I dreamed about you last night?”

“Shut up.” You didn’t believe him as you pressed on.

“Got me thinking about you doll.” His long strides kept pace with your quicker shorter ones. He wasn’t letting you walk away from this one. Lucky for him it was at least a ten-minute walk to the captains office where you’d debrief. Plenty of time to get you admitting some feelings he knew you had. Not with those emotions he’d seen earlier.

“I said shut up Jake.” Rolling your eyes, you willed yourself to get to the captains office faster. He was so much taller it didn’t matter. You could be sprinting, and he’d still be right by your side.

He ignored you, “Thinking about how smart you are. How often you kick my ass. How often you save my ass.” His eyes lingered in your at that last statement.

“What are you doing?” You stopped looking at him desperately. What was he doing? Was he going to blow this whole nonexistent relationship up? It’s not like you were the best of friends to begin with. Casual acquaintances. Training enemies. Mission buddies who were far more successful than not. The two of you were dancing on something that was hardly even there.

He shrugged, “Telling you the truth.”

“Why?” You took a step back boxing yourself against the wall.

“Why not?” He took a step closer pinning you against the wall placing either hand next to your face. It was so silent you could’ve sworn he could hear the gulp you took trying to regain some composure. What in the hell was even happening right now? Sure, you’d been crushing on him for what feels like just as long as you’ve known him there’d been no sort of indication he’d had any inkling of interest.

“Anyway,” He only grinned seeing your face. You looked starstruck. Like you couldn’t believe what he was doing. Hell, he couldn’t believe what he was doing. He hadn’t even really properly thought it through. But he good feeling about it. A really fucking good feeling about it, “As I was saying. I was thinking about how fucking pretty you really are. Especially when you wear that yellow sundress. You’re a vision, Y/N.” He was so close. So, so close.

Your head spun with his scent and that admission. He smelled so fucking good. A mix of wood and cinnamon. It mixed with his natural musk oh so well. If you weren’t in the middle of the open you’d probably jump right on him intending to rip that suit right off of him. But you couldn’t those thoughts right now. Not when you were about to get your head chewed off. You were ten minutes late already. That was already a hole you had begun to dig yourself.

You looked from one of his eyes to the next. The overwhelming feeling to lean up and kiss his him was starting to take hold. What in the hell was the matter with you?

“Didn’t your momma teach you that lying’s bad?” You whispered. It was a way to ask for confirmation without straight up asking for it. A way for him to deny it for the lie it was.

He shook his head quickly, “I never lie. ‘Specially not to you doll face.”

Your mouth dried slightly. Your lips parted to respond before they closed. Cat really did get your tongue now, “Thank you, Jake.” You could hardly hear your whisper. But he sure did.

“Anytime darlin’. Now let’s go. Get this shit over with.” He took your hand in his once more. He wasn’t planning on dropping it until he got to that door.

He watched as you walked in. Fool. That’s exactly what he was. He was a damned fool not to see you right there in front of him. But he knew one thing. He wouldn’t let you slip away now that he knew what he had. You. He planned to make you the fool’s girlfriend soon. Very, very soon.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @dempy

[icemavs]

wild-eyed jokers

5.1k, explicit, ao3

“Fuck, Ice,” Maverick panted. “You can’t just move like that and not expect a reaction.” A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. 

“Well what else was I supposed to do?” Iceman replied with a laugh. “Chipper was right on your tail, I had to get him off somehow.”

Maverick shook his head to himself and flipped a switch to listen to the air traffic control radio frequency as he maneuvered his jet back to the base. It was taking some getting used to, flying these new F/A-18s the Navy was letting them try out. Maverick, along with Iceman and a few others, were tapped to help develop new tactics with the new jets before taking what they came up with to TOPGUN and teach a brand new class. There were new instructors teaching the F-14 TOPGUN classes, but there wasn’t anyone experienced enough to teach F/A-18 pilots yet. So, the Navy pulled five pilots from their squadrons to learn what they could and be the best on a new airframe. 

It wasn’t that Maverick took what he did for granted, he knew it was important, but sometimes he forgot just how important it could be. As he felt the landing gear touch down on the tarmac, Maverick let out a breath through his nose and marveled at the way the Hornet handled compared to the giant Tomcat. Everything about it was so smooth and new, he loved to push it to its limits as much as he could. He was excited for the future of the Navy with this new piece of equipment. 

Finally back on the ground and finished with debrief, Maverick headed to the locker room to shower the day away. Everyone else had already gone for the day, electing to shower at home and have a meal probably cooked by their wives. That wasn’t really Maverick’s style. Often it was only him and Ice that stayed behind.

He was sitting on the bench with his flight suit peeled halfway down his body, revealing his old squadron’s t-shirt he wore that day, when the door to the locker room slammed open. 

“Ice, nice flying today” Maverick said dismissively without looking up from where he was untying his boots. They weren’t quite friends, but there was no more bad blood between them since the mission in the Indian Ocean. “Anyone get on your ass for that maneuver?”

When Iceman didn’t reply, Maverick finally looked behind him to where Ice’s locker was. He was just standing there with his head against the cool metal, not moving. 

“Uh, Ice?” Maverick asked. “Everything okay?” Ice was usually quiet, but after a sortie like that he was typically a little more keyed up. 

“Just got some news I wasn’t expecting, s’all.” He quickly stripped his clothes, grabbed his shower things, and walked off. Maverick sat there stunned, Ice was never that short with him. He was curious to know what he’d learned. For all Maverick’s experience in life, he still hadn’t learned to keep his nose out of other people’s business. 

Maverick slowly finished undressing himself and waited to enter the showers until he heard the water turn on. He saw Ice with his back turned toward the rest of the room and the water beating on the back of his neck. Maverick chose a shower head a few spaces down and turned on his own water. He kept sneaking glances at Ice as he stood unmoving under the spray of the shower. Maverick would never be able to get over how beautiful Iceman was. His body was perfectly sculpted by an intense workout regimen and constant G strain while flying. Not only was Ice physically perfect by Maverick’s standards, but he was also one of the most talented pilots Maverick ever had the pleasure of flying with. He was incredibly smart with a wicked sense of airmanship and always seemed to be one step ahead of anyone he was flying with. Maverick respected him immensely, but not so much that he wouldn’t objectify him. He was still a man, after all.

“Mav, I can feel you looking at me,” Iceman said suddenly. “If you want to say something just say it.”

Feeling a flush creep up his face, Maverick finally started to wash himself properly. “You know me Ice,” he said. “I just want to know what’s making you so quiet.” He paused before adding, “Only if you want to tell me, of course.” “Yes, I know how fucking nosy you are, Mav,” Ice said. “My grandmother is in the hospital, that’s all.” Ice went quiet again, but the hard look had fallen from his face, replaced by something a bit softer, but almost scared.

Maverick wasn’t really sure what to say to that, so he went back to showering. 

“She just had a fall, that’s all,” Ice said after some time. “She’ll be okay, it just wasn’t something I was expecting to hear.”

“That’s good,” Maverick said. He had gone back to stealing glances at Iceman every once in a while now that he was done washing himself. “Are you close with her?” he asked. 

“She practically raised me,” he replied with a slight wobble in his voice. “After my dad passed, she was my closest relative so that’s who they sent me to. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen her, so I’ll just have to call the hospital tonight.” He clipped the end of his sentence short and ran a hand down his face.

Ice turned off the water and grabbed his towel, flashing a look in Maverick’s direction that was more what Maverick was used to seeing from him. It was familiar and it eased the rumbling in Maverick’s gut that had started when he thought Ice had gotten in trouble for his flying. Not that it was good that his grandmother who raised him was in the hospital, but it wasn’t something Maverick could have been responsible for. Often when they flew together, Maverick would do something a bit reckless, Ice would have to save his ass, and because of whatever acrobatic thing Ice had to do to cover him, Ice would get reprimanded and Maverick would go apologize to their CO to let him know Maverick should be the one in trouble. 

When Maverick shut off his own shower and dried himself off, he went back to the locker area to find Ice was still there, clothes on and looking like he was waiting. 

“Do you want to come over to my place and we can go over some of the stuff we did today?” Ice asked him. He sounded a bit stressed, that wobbly sound from earlier was still in his voice. 

“Uh yeah, sure,” Maverick replied. He was thinking about bringing up the fact that Ice had said he was going to call the hospital, but figured maybe Ice needed a distraction for the night. “I rode my bike, so I’ll just meet you there?” Ice nodded his head but didn’t make any move to leave the locker room. 

Maverick turned to his locker to get dressed, but when he dropped his towel he could still feel Ice’s eyes on him. It took everything in him to not turn around and make a comment about it, but he knew better. It wouldn’t be the first time that something like this had happened. There was a time during their first run at TOPGUN that they figured out a way to blow off steam and keep themselves from killing each other. A few of their meetings over the years had produced the same results. They were two of just a few of their TOPGUN class and now their instructor cadre that didn’t have wives or girlfriends and neither of them really went after women the way the other single men did, but still no one acted like they knew. Don’t ask, don’t tell and all that. It only happened a few times, but Maverick hadn’t forgotten about it and based on the eyes burning holes into Maverick’s ass, Ice hadn’t forgotten either. Maverick just didn’t think that was the kind of distraction Ice wanted tonight. 

He decided against trying something while they were still on base, so Maverick dressed quickly and grabbed his helmet and jacket from where they were hanging on a peg near the door. 

“Ready?” he asked Ice while he pulled his jacket on. Ice still didn’t say anything and just nodded again. 

Maverick could feel the heat of Ice’s body where he was walking close to him and it took all his willpower not to reach out and touch him. As they approached the door, Maverick let out a groan when we saw it was raining. He hated riding his bike in the rain. It was well waterproofed, so the fact that it was sitting out there wasn’t the problem, but Maverick’s jacket was leather and there was no way in hell he would ride with it in the rain. 

“You can just ride with me and I’ll bring you back to get your bike later,” Ice said with an air of finality as if he had already made the decision for Maverick. 

“Fine by me,” Maverick replied, and they set off for Iceman’s Mercedes.

The car ride was mostly quiet, but the silence was charged with an energy Maverick hadn’t felt since the last time he and Ice had needed to let off steam and distract themselves. That time it was Bradley that was in the hospital. Carole was driving with a seven year old Bradley in the backseat when another driver ran a stop sign and t-boned Bradley’s side of the car. He ended up with only a broken leg and a few bruised ribs, but Maverick was so distraught at the thought of him being hurt that he sought out Ice and asked him to make him forget who he was for a little while. 

When they finally pulled in front of Ice’s house, the two of them sat there for a little while not saying anything and staring straight ahead. Ice cleared his throat and looked over at Maverick. 

“Well, I’m getting a bit hungry, so how about we go in and I’ll order a pizza?” he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Pepperoni and mushroom, right?”

Maverick snorted. “You got it,” he said. He knew it was a bit of a different pizza order but he was tickled that Ice remembered it. 

They got inside and shed their jackets and shoes before settling in on the breakfast nook barstools. Ice pulled two beers from the fridge before picking up the phone. Maverick pulled his notes out of his bag as Ice made the call to the local pizza place for two large pizzas to be delivered. Once he was done, Ice sat down in the stool right next to Maverick and stared down at his hands. Maverick felt how stiff Ice was as he sat there, so he moved his foot over to Ice’s stool and nudged his foot. 

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Everything okay?”

“Mhmm,” Ice hummed, still not looking up from his hands. “Mav, are you trying to play footsie with me?” he asked after a moment. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maverick replied, feigning offense. He plastered a big grin on his face as he turned to face Ice. “I’m just trying to go over my notes from today, that’s all.”

“Right,” Ice said shortly. 

Maverick figured he would let Ice take the reins tonight, given that he wasn’t exactly explicit about what he wanted from tonight. For all Maverick knew, Ice really did just want to go over their notes tonight, and Maverick was reading too much into it. 

Iceman pulled his own notes from his bag and began quietly going over them while Maverick did the same. They pointed out a few things to each other with a few mumbles as they sipped their beers and waited for pizza. 

They had a lot of similarities in their notes from the week, everything was coming together nicely for their first TOPGUN class in a few weeks. The other pilots were helping come up with a syllabus and what was going to be necessary to teach to pilots new to the F/A-18. After about twenty minutes the pizza finally came. The two of them scarfed down their respective pizzas in relative silence while talking only when necessary, most often to ask if the other wanted a napkin or another beer. 

“Wait, wait, Ice,” Maverick said around a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni. “Explain that to me, what do you mean by a split s against that system? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Ice waved his hand in the air and swallowed the bite he was chewing before he spoke. “The seeker on that missile isn’t any good against the Hornet’s radar jamming, anything more aggressive than that and you’re going to over G whatever bombs you’re carrying and not be able to drop them on the target.” He moved his hands around to show how the motion would work. “See?”

Maverick nodded. “Okay, okay, yeah that makes sense. We should try that next week with the emitters at the range.” 

Iceman clapped Maverick on the shoulder and squeezed. “I do wish you would finish chewing before you speak, though.”

Maverick took another large bite and smiled dopily at Ice. “I just wanted you to know as soon as possible that I recognize your genius as a fighter pilot,” he said sarcastically. “The pizza couldn’t wait.”

“Shut up,” Ice laughed. He got up and took the plates to the sink and the empty beer bottles to the garbage. Maverick’s shoulder still felt like it was burning from where Ice’s hand had grasped him.

Ice stared at him from across the counter without saying anything. Maverick didn’t know if there was anything he could say, this was Ice’s dance to lead. He excused himself to the bathroom instead. 

Once he got there, Maverick splashed some water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror. He was still so confused about how Ice could want him when Ice could have anyone he wanted. Maverick was attractive enough. His green eyes were a common topic people commented on when they wanted to pick him up. His hair was stark black and spiky from a day of flying and no shower could tame it. His exploits were often fans of grabbing it when they wanted to get him in a more advantageous position in bed. Maverick scrubbed his hands down his face, took a deep breath, and left the bathroom. 

When Maverick walked back to the living room, Ice was spread out on the couch and watching a black screen on the TV. His breathing was shallow and was sporting a thousand yard stare Maverick could relate to a little bit. 

“Hey,” Maverick said as he walked over to the couch. He swung his leg over Iceman’s and settled on top of his hips. Ice grunted with the sudden weight on top of him and quickly moved his hands to grab Maverick’s hips.

“Someone is a bit forward tonight,” Ice remarked as he squeezed Maverick’s hips. 

“You seemed like you needed it,” Maverick replied. “You look like you need a distraction.” He was going to let Ice kiss him first, just to make sure it was what Ice wanted. With Ice’s hands gripping his hips and the heat of him underneath, Maverick was bubbling with anticipation. It was always his favorite part, the build up to the actual moment. Not that the real thing wasn’t good, but the adrenaline rush he got would always excite him. He trailed a hand down the side of Ice’s face and slid the other under the hem of Ice’s shirt so he could feel the muscles jump under his touch. 

“Maybe a little,” Ice replied. 

Iceman lowered his gaze to pointedly rest on Maverick’s lips before flitting it back up. He looked up at Maverick through his lashes and tightened his grip. One of his hands came up to scratch at the short hairs at the back of Maverick’s neck and all at once pulled Maverick forward. 

The kiss was slow but heated, Maverick letting Ice guide him, manipulate him into whatever position he wanted. Maverick arched his back to push his hips farther into Ice’s and rest their chests together. Ice worked Maverick’s mouth open, gently taking the lead with his tongue. 

It’s not like this was the first time they had kissed, in fact it was far from it, but Maverick would never get over how good Ice was at kissing. It wasn’t unlike being in the cockpit of a fighter jet. It was smooth yet fast, with constant ups and downs that left Maverick feeling like he was pulling 8 Gs and always wanting more. 

With one hand in his hair and the other snaking around to grab a handful of Maverick’s ass, Ice was moving quickly. After one particularly hard tug, Maverick let a moan escape. Ice took the opportunity of the broken kiss to latch onto Maverick’s neck and work a mark into the skin. 

“Fuck, Ice, don’t leave a mark,” Maverick panted. 

Iceman just hummed and continued on for a short moment before working his way down to pull at Maverick’s shirt collar and bite his collarbone. 

“Fine,” Ice said into Maverick’s neck. “I won’t leave anything visible. Below the collar is fair game.”

In lieu of a reply, Maverick just groaned and ground his hips in Ice’s, earning a moan from Ice. Exactly what he was going for. Maverick was going to let Ice lead for the night, but that didn’t mean he had to be patient about it. 

Maverick continued grinding his hips and let his hands explore under Ice’s shirt. He tugged at the hem in a silent question and Ice complied quickly. After he had pulled his own shirt off he grabbed at Maverick’s to have him take it off as well. Once he was shirtless, Ice immediately moved his attention to Maverick’s nipples. Maverick threw his head back and let himself bask in the pleasure. He wasn’t holding back on the sounds, he knew Ice was a fan of them, if the growing pressure pressing on Maverick’s backside was any indication. 

“God, fuck Ice,” Maverick moaned. “Keep doing that, holy shit.” 

“Yeah? You like that, baby?” Ice was goading him, trying to get him to say more. “Tell me what you want, Mav.”

“Fuck, I want whatever you want to give to me,” Maverick replied. It was getting harder and harder to form a coherent thought with Ice playing with his nipples and a hand on his ass. 

Maverick finally let his head fall forward again and rested his nose on the top of Ice’s head. He breathed in deeply, letting the smell of Ice’s shampoo and sweat fill his nose. It was an unmistakable combination of something almost minty and something musky. Ever since the first time Maverick smelled it he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head. He was so glad to have it back for one more night. 

Ice pulled off Maverick’s chest and looked up at Maverick with a mischievous look in his eyes. He surged up to kiss Maverick quickly and deeply before fitting both his hands under Maverick thighs and standing up. 

Maverick let out a yelp of surprise at being lifted like he didn’t weigh a thing. Maverick may be short but he wasn’t exactly lightweight, he carried a lot of muscle on him, but Ice was so incredibly strong. They abandoned their shirts in the living room as Ice carried them down the hall to the bedroom. 

Once they got there, Iceman dropped Maverick unceremoniously on the bed. Maverick reached out to pull Ice in by his belt loops and got to work on the buckle. This wasn’t unfamiliar territory by any means, but for Maverick it always felt like the first time with Ice. Everything about it was just so good, it never felt like they were doing the same things. With the buckle finally undone and Ice’s pants kicked off to somewhere in the corner, Maverick leaned forward to breathe in more of Ice. He mouthed over Ice’s cock in his boxers and earned himself a loud groan.

“Jesus Mav,” he breathed. Ice snaked his fingers through Maverick’s hair and squeezed once he was satisfied he had a good grip. “Wait,” he said suddenly.

Maverick quickly sat back to look questioningly at Iceman. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

Ice just laughed at him. “Nothing, nothing,” he said. “I just had something else in mind.”

“In mind?” Maverick asked incredulously. He could feel a blush creeping up his body. Iceman had planned this, he was thinking about Maverick. “You mean you thought about this ahead of time?”

“You’re cute when you blush,” Ice said. Maverick felt his face get hotter. “Come on, pants off,” Ice said in his officer voice. 

“Well shit, yes sir, commander sir,” Maverick said as he scrambled to pull his own pants off and situate himself on the bed. Iceman laughed at him again. 

“Boxers, too,” Ice said, and Maverick quickly complied. He was already half hard and knew it wouldn’t take long for him to be aching. Ice stripped his own without much fanfare and seemed to be in the same position as Maverick. 

Ice didn’t say anything but sat down near the head of the bed and motioned for Maverick to sit on his lap again, mimicking the same position they were in on the couch. The skin to skin contact made Maverick hiss, his cock pressing against Ice’s without hesitation. 

They sat like that for a bit, grinding against each other and kissing. Ice was still dominant with the kiss, more so than he was on the couch. He was making each kiss deeper than the last, leaning back to pull Maverick’s bottom lip with his teeth every so often. Maverick would let out a sound akin to a whimper whenever Ice would grab a handful of his ass and squeeze. 

After a bit, Ice pushed Maverick back and motioned for him to turn around. Maverick obliged and got on his hands and knees. 

“I’m going to open you up, okay?” Ice told him. Maverick nodded and waited for the click of a lube bottle and the blunt pressure of fingers prodding at his hole. He was breathing heavily but more than ready for what was to come.

Ice pulled his knees up and Maverick assumed he was reaching for the lube, but Maverick felt large hands grab his hips and a hot breath on his hole. 

“Fuck,” was all he had time to whisper before Ice licked a stripe from sweet spot behind his balls up to his hole. He sucked in a breath as Ice went to town opening him up. 

He speared his tongue and worked Maverick open quickly. Maverick’s breathing was getting quicker but he kept it under control as much as he could, his face now pressed into the mattress.. He was fully hard and aching now and nearly dripping precome onto the bedspread, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, he had other things to worry about. 

After Ice had him sufficiently open with just his tongue, Ice started to work a finger into Maverick. It was almost too much for Maverick, he bit into the blanket underneath him and tried to keep from crying out. The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar but it had been a while and the stretch was just on the right side of hurting too much. 

“Come on, Mav,” Ice whispered from behind him. “Let me hear you.” He added another finger alongside the first one and Maverick let out a long moan. 

Ice made quick work of getting Maverick open. He worked his way up to three fingers and Maverick was panting and screaming into the bed. He was trying (and failing) to grind his hips into something, anything, but all he could find was empty air. 

“Fuck Ice, please just fuck me now,” Maverick begged. He wasn’t much for begging but for Ice he would. “Please, please, please, now.”

“Well baby, when you ask like that, how can I say no?” Ice chuckled and leaned back against the headboard. Before Maverick could turn around and situate himself, Ice grabbed a hold of the back of Maverick’s neck and pulled him backwards. 

Maverick let out a surprised sound and tried to keep his balance, but Ice caught him smoothly and let him down gently. He was hovering just over Ice’s cock, his thighs threatening to shake with the strain to hold himself up. With Ice trying to line everything up, Maverick had the upper hand for a moment. He took the time to grab Ice’s hands with one of his own and held them against his chest. 

“Mav, what,” was all Ice could get out before Maverick snaked his free hand behind him and lined up Ice’s cock with his hole. “There’s no lube,” Ice tried to protest.

“Don’t care, need you in me,” Maverick said. Ice just snorted a laugh but his humor didn’t laugh long as Maverick started to sink down. 

“Fuck, Mav,” Ice panted. “You’re so fucking tight.” Since Maverick was holding onto his hands, Ice could only sit there, leaning against the headboard, as Maverick started to move himself. 

His mouth was dropped open in a silent moan and it took everything in him to keep moving. Iceman felt so good, he was just on the right side of too big but Maverick wasn’t one to back down and he enjoyed the stretch. He let himself revel in the feeling and gripped Ice’s hands tighter to his chest. With what little room he had to move his hands, Ice wrapped his fingers around Maverick’s and let his head fall forward into Maverick’s back. Maverick could feel how sweaty Ice’s hair was, a great indicator of just how much Maverick was having an effect on him. Ice wasn’t one to be loud in bed, but Maverick made it his mission each time to get him to be loud. Even if it meant he had to stave off his own orgasm so Ice could have his first. After all, the whole goal of tonight was to distract Ice so it was only fair. 

Head still against Maverick’s back, Ice’s breath started to pick up and his grip on Maverick’s fingers tightened once again. 

“Are you close, baby?” Maverick asked him, somewhat rhetorically. “Come on, Ice, come for me.”

Maverick could feel his own orgasm coming and his thighs were starting to shake with the effort, but he kept up a steady rhythm of riding Ice. He was dripping down the front of his own cock, some of it landing on Ice’s legs, but he didn’t think he cared. 

Iceman nodded, but let his head fall back against the headboard as he started to pant louder. 

“Mav, please, please,” he nearly cried. He was trying to move his hands, but Mav had an iron grip on them for leverage. Ice’s legs tensed and he cried out while Maverick rode him through his orgasm. Maverick felt impossibly full and started to slow his pace as Iceman tried to slow his breathing. Even the slow pace was almost too much for Maverick, he could feel warmth pooling low in his gut. He had never come untouched, but it was looking like a possibility at this point. “That’s it, Ice,” Maverick cooed. He kept going ever so slowly until Ice’s body felt loose beneath him. Maverick let Ice’s hands go and they immediately landed on Maverick’s hips and worked small circles into the sides. Maverick was still ever so slightly shifting his hips back and forth and trying to chase his release. Ice, despite seeming to be entirely fucked out, was always the people pleaser and moved his hands to wrap one around Maverick’s cock. 

His rough hand moved slowly up and down at a brutal pace that left Maverick panting. There was a bead of sweat running down the side of his face with the effort to hold himself up and with the desire to come. 

“Come on, Mav,” Ice whispered into Maverick’s ear. It didn’t take long for Maverick’s small hip movements and Ice’s calloused hands to finally bring him over the edge. His head fell back on to Ice’s shoulder and Ice pressed small kisses into the side of his neck as he slowed his pace. 

Maverick slowly pulled off Ice and moved to press himself up against Ice’s side. He felt warm and fuzzy and full. He didn’t know what this whole thing with Ice was, them coming to each other for comfort or to blow off steam whenever they needed it. It was like they knew what the other needed without ever having to say it out loud. There was never any awkward moment afterward, both of them content to stay laying together until they were ready to go, each time before this having ended the next morning. 

As far as Maverick’s subconscious could tell, it wasn’t just sex, it wasn’t just a friendly rivalry with one extra way to get under each other’s skin. It definitely wasn’t something Maverick felt like talking about at the moment. He was content to just lay with his head on Ice’s chest and listen to his heartbeat steadying. 

“So, are you going to call your grandma?” Maverick asked him after a few minutes. 

With the little room he had, Ice moved his head down to look at Maverick. “Mav you are insufferable,” he said. “And tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.” Before Maverick could get another word in, Ice got up to go to the bathroom. Maverick let out a small grunt and Ice turned around and laughed at him. 

He came back after a minute with a wet washcloth and maneuvered Maverick’s legs around so he could wipe him off. Maverick let his eyes close, sleep was close to overtaking him.

“Ah,” Ice chided and when Maverick opened his eyes he was extending a glass of water. “Drink. Your throat will hurt in the morning if you don’t.”

Maverick hummed but took the glass anyway. His cheeks felt warm at Ice’s mention of knowing how Maverick’s morning would go. There was something so familiar about it all. He was glad they were friends now. 

Ice finished up what he was doing to clean up the room and got back into bed. The soiled comforter was thrown to the floor, but the sheets were still intact. He pulled the top sheet over the two of them as Maverick wrapped himself around Ice’s body like he was a tree branch and Maverick was a koala. 

Maverick fell asleep that night feeling a contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time. He loved his job and he loved his friends. Maybe he even loved Iceman. 

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 10: Texas Memories

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

Before:

Leaning against some pillows on Jake's bedroom at his parent's place, you tapped the answer button on the iPad, and immediately, an image of Jake, shirtless and with his dog tags hanging between his defined pectoral muscles, appeared on your screen.

"Hey, darlin'," he greeted.

"This is certainly a pleasant surprise. What's the occasion for this view?" you inquired.

"Just calling to give you a heads up on my next duty station."

It had been six weeks since Jake had departed from his family's home in Texas, while you remained there for a class.

"And?" you inquired, full of anticipation.

"I'm being assigned to Kingsville, Texas."

"Jake! That's fantastic! Your mom's going to be thrilled!"

"And what about you?"

"Jake, I wrap up this class in a few days, then I was offered a study in Wyoming, and then it's back to Wisconsin for me."

"Why don't you stay at my parents' place?"

You gave him a look. "Because we've been over this. The University of Madison has the best veterinary college in Wisconsin."

"Why not transfer to A&M?"

"Because a lot of my college credits won't transfer, that's why. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No, I'm good."

Believing in his words, you chose to steer the conversation elsewhere. "So, how's the training going?"

"Good. I'm at the top of my class."

"Jake! That's fantastic! Have you made up your mind about what you want to fly?"

"I'm leaning towards the F-18 Super Hornet."

"That's a…?"

"It's a fighter jet."

"Oh," you respond quietly.

"Y/N, you knew flying was my goal."

"I did, but being a fighter pilot hadn't crossed my mind." You took a deep breath. "But if that's what you want, then go for it."

"How's school going?"

Glancing over on the bed, you caught sight of the white plastic pregnancy test that you had taken just minutes before, nervously twisting it in your hands as you awaited the results.

"It's going good. I'm finishing up this really interesting bioscience study."

"And that's what?"

"It's devoted to animal and human wellbeing and understanding to prevent and treat disease."

"Yeah. I've got nothing."

You let out a nervous laugh, your gaze fixed on the pregnancy test which now displayed the results. "Jake, there's something I need to tell you," you said, your tone shifting to a more serious note, and he could tell something was up.

Jake's attention snapped to you, his expression immediately shifting from casual to intensely focused, a trace of concern etching his features. He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours for a hint of what was about to come. "What's going on? Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice laced with worry yet trying to remain calm for your sake.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you held up the pregnancy test to the camera so he could see the positive result. The silence that followed was heavy with anticipation, as you watched for his reaction, unsure of what to expect but hoping for his support.

After a moment that felt much longer than it actually was, Jake's face transformed from concern to a mixture of surprise and joy. "Is this…? Are we…?" He couldn't seem to find the right words, his usual eloquence replaced by a rare loss for words.

You nodded, a small smile breaking through your nervousness. "Yes, we're going to have a baby."

"OMG!" Jake exclaimed as you watched him jump up and down excitedly on your iPad.

Jake's excitement was palpable even through the digital screen, his joy transcending the distance between you. He stopped jumping and leaned closer to the iPad, his face filling the screen. "This is the best news ever, Y/N! I can't believe we're going to have a baby!"

His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within you. It was a relief to see him so happy, and it made the moment even more special, sharing it together even if it was through a screen.

"I wish I could be there with you right now," Jake said, his voice softening, a hint of longing in his eyes. "To hold you, to celebrate together... But we'll make up for it, I promise."

You reached out, touching the screen where his face was, wishing for the umpteenth time that he was there with you. "I know, Jake. It's okay. Just having you here with me like this means everything. And knowing you're just as excited about our baby makes this moment perfect."

Jake placed his hand against the screen, mirroring your action, creating a moment of connection despite the physical distance. "As soon as I can, I'll be there with you. We have so much to look forward to, Y/N. You, me, and our little one. We're going to be a family, and I'm going to be the best dad ever. Just you wait and see."

The promise in his words filled you with warmth and an unshakeable belief in the future you were building together. "I know you will, Jake. I can't wait for us to start this new chapter together. I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N. More than anything." His smile was a beacon of hope, lighting up the path to your shared future, no matter how challenging the journey might be.

Three months later...

Gradually, you opened your eyes, taking a moment to acclimate to the glaring brightness and the persistent beeping that filled the room. The first thing that came into focus was Cindy's face hovering over you.

"Y/N, how are you feeling?" she inquired, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"Where am I?" you managed to ask, feeling the dryness in your throat.

A man dressed in a white doctor's coat turned towards you. "Hello, Y/N. I'm Doctor Buchanan. How are you feeling?"

A dull ache throbbed in your abdomen. "Sore," you replied.

"As you would be after being kicked by a horse," the doctor responded.

You turned to Cindy. "What happened?"

"You were examining a horse during a class, and when you pressed on another sore spot, it kicked," he explained.

Suddenly, the memory of the baby flooded back, and you turned anxiously to the doctor. "The baby. What about the baby?"

"Y/N, I'm sorry," the doctor said gently. "The kick led to a miscarriage. But everything else seems to be okay, which means you can try again in the future."

Feeling a profound sense of loss, you sank back into the pillows, the tears beginning to flow unchecked.

Cindy gave the doctor a nod. "Thank you, Doctor."

Observing your tears, the doctor offered a sympathetic look. "I'll come back later," he said, before exiting the room.

Turning her focus to you, Cindy's expression was one of concern. "Y/N, why didn't you tell us?"

"I only found out a few months ago and had just told Jake. We wanted to make sure first and he wanted it to be a surprise for you all," you explained, your voice laden with emotion. "Where's Jake?"

"He's on his way home. He managed to catch a flight about an hour ago."

"Does he know about the baby?"

"No, I just found out myself," she replied softly.

"He's going to be devastated," you remarked, your voice slightly cracking.

Cindy continued to remove pieces of hair that had fallen onto your face. "He will be, but I'm sure he'll manage."

You turned to Cindy. "The house isn't even done being built yet. Until then, I can't go home."

"You'll stay with us. You don't need to worry."

"But I was supposed to go back before."

"It'll be okay. Do you want some water?"

"I'd love a sip."

Cindy extended her hand, picked up a cup filled with ice chips, and gently placed one in your mouth. Just then, her phone chimed. She reached for it and glanced at the screen. "Glen has just picked up Jake from the airport. They're on their way here now," she informed you, her voice a mix of relief and apprehension at the impending reunion. "You get some sleep, okay? I'll be right here."

You offered a weak nod, feeling the weight of your eyelids become too much to resist. As sleep began to envelop you, the events of the day seemed to drift away into the distance.

As you stirred from your sleep, you felt a gentle kiss pressed against your forehead and the comforting warmth of a hand holding yours.

Blinking your eyes open, you found yourself gazing into a pair of green eyes filled with concern and upset, silently conveying a depth of emotion that words couldn't capture.

"Jake," you whispered softly.

"Hey, darlin'," he replied, his voice tender. He then leaned in to gently kiss your lips, offering a moment of comfort amidst the turmoil. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore, but okay," you responded, trying to muster a reassuring tone.

Jake's gaze lingered on you, a mix of hope and fear in his eyes. "And the baby?"

Tears began to well up in your eyes as the weight of the news you had to share pressed down on you. "Jake… I'm so sorry," you managed to say, your voice breaking with emotion.

Jake tenderly cupped your cheek with his hand, his touch a source of comfort. "Darlin', it's okay. You're okay, and that's what's most important," he reassured you, his voice steady and full of unwavering support.

"I just want to go home," you murmured, longing for the comfort of familiar surroundings.

Jake gave you a look of understanding, his resolve clear. "I'll see what I can do," he promised, ready to take action on your behalf.

Several hours later, with gentle care, Jake assisted you into his parents' house and then into his own bed within his bedroom, ensuring your comfort and safety every step of the way.

You pulled the comforter over yourself, adjusting the soft fabric around you to make yourself as comfortable as possible in the cozy surroundings.

Jake leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. "Get some rest, darlin'," he whispered, offering a moment of solace and care.

"Jake. Lay with me," you requested, your voice carrying a longing for his presence beside you.

Jake quickly stripped down to his boxers, his dog tags clinking softly as they settled between his chest muscles, and then he carefully climbed into bed beside you. Gently, he wrapped an arm around you, his concern evident in his voice. "This doesn't hurt, does it?" he asked, making sure his embrace was comforting rather than painful.

"No," you replied, finding solace in his proximity as you snuggled closer to him. "I've missed you, Jake."

"I know, darlin'," he responded, his voice carrying a note of solemn understanding. "Maybe you should quit school and come with me," Jake repeated, his suggestion hanging in the air between you.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you turned to face him more directly. "What?"

"Quit school and come with me," he said again, his proposal clear and earnest.

"No, Jake. Why would I do that? I have an opportunity to go back to Wyoming and examine some cattle there during the summer," you responded, emphasizing the importance of your career and the opportunities ahead of you. Your tone conveyed both surprise and a gentle reminder of your commitment to your own path.

"I just thought it might be safer," Jake explained, trying to justify his suggestion.

"Safer for who? Me or for you?" you asked, seeking clarity on his motivations.

"Y/N, just calm down. It was only a suggestion," Jake attempted to soothe the rising tension.

"No, Jake. It wasn't just a suggestion. I know you," you countered, implying there was more beneath the surface of his proposal, highlighting the depth of understanding between you two and the complexity of the decision at hand. "Then you quit being a pilot."

His eyes widened at your response. "No," he stated firmly, then took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "Y/N, you're supposed to be relaxing," he reminded, his tone softening, indicating his concern for your wellbeing amidst the emotional exchange.

Feeling the weight of the moment, you turned back around and nestled yourself deeper into the blankets, seeking comfort in their warmth and the familiar surroundings, allowing the tension to ebb away as you focused on resting and healing. You felt Jake let out a sigh beside you, a sound that carried a mix of frustration and resignation.

As you woke the next morning, the bed beside you was notably empty. Your gaze swept the room, a silent query to the whereabouts of Jake. Then, the inviting aroma of breakfast wafted through the air, drawing your attention and stirring a gentle hunger. With careful movements, mindful of your recent physical and emotional strains, you eased out of bed, and headed towards the kitchen where Cindy stood at the stove.

"Morning, Y/N. How are you feeling?" Cindy inquired with a warm tone as you entered the kitchen.

"Still a bit sore. Have you seen Jake?" you asked, hoping to find him nearby.

Cindy looked at you, a hint of surprise in her expression. "He left early this morning," she informed you, not expecting your reaction.

Your eyes widened in disbelief and concern. "He did what?" The news of his unexpected departure caught you off guard, stirring a mix of emotions and questions about the reasons behind his sudden exit.

Confused, Cindy looked at you. "He said he told you."

Seeing the confusion on Cindy's face, you quickly explained, "He didn't tell me anything about leaving."

Concerned and eager for answers, you excused yourself and made your way back to the bedroom, where your cellphone had been left untouched since the night before. With a sense of urgency, you picked up the device and scrolled through to find Jake's number. Once located, you dialed his number, each ring echoing your growing apprehension and the need for clarity on his sudden departure.

As the call went to voicemail, a sigh escaped your lips, disappointment mingling with concern. "Jake, it's me. Where are you? Call me back," you spoke into the phone, your voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of worry. After hanging up, you returned to the kitchen, trying to mask your unease.

Cindy glanced up as you entered, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Any response?" she asked, hoping for some good news.

"Nothing," you replied, a hint of frustration in your voice as you placed your cellphone on the table. Cindy, sensing your distress, gently set a plate of food in front of you, perhaps hoping that the gesture might offer a small comfort amidst the morning's unsettling start.

As you settled into the comforting embrace of the outdoor papasan chair, wrapped in the warmth of a blanket with a book in hand, the sudden ring of your cellphone broke the tranquil morning silence. Seeing Jake's face flash on the screen, a rush of mixed emotions flooded through you.

"Jake! Where are you?" you answered, your voice a blend of relief and urgency, eager to finally hear his voice and understand the reason behind his unexpected departure.

Jake's voice came through, clear yet tinged with a seriousness that immediately set you on edge. "I'm back at the base."

The simplicity of his statement did little to soothe the whirlwind of questions in your mind. "Why didn't you tell me you had to go back?"

His response was unexpected, causing a deeper furrow in your confusion. "I didn't because I didn't have to. I made the decision."

Confusion swept over your face, a tangible reflection of the turmoil inside. "I don't understand." The words slipped out, a verbal embodiment of your attempt to grasp the situation. His decision, made without warning or explanation, left you searching for clarity amidst the sudden shift in your shared reality.

The conversation took a sharp, abrupt turn as Jake spoke again, his voice carrying a weight that suggested an underlying urgency or perhaps a discomfort with the conversation. "Look. I have to go. I'll talk to you later."

The quickness of his departure from the call didn't escape you, nor did the subtle hint of hurt in his voice, a detail that tugged at your heart. With a mixture of frustration and sadness, you found yourself responding almost instinctively, voicing the thought that had been gnawing at the back of your mind since his suggestion the night before. "It's because I won't quit, isn't it Jake?"

The words hung in the air, a silent plea for understanding, for a deeper explanation that might bridge the growing gap between you. The connection was severed before you could explore further. As the call ended, the arm holding your cellphone dropped to your lap, the device now a heavy weight carrying the silence of the unresolved conversation. The moment was a mix of disbelief and sorrow, a mental scramble to piece together the sudden shift in your relationship dynamics.

Cindy, sensing the change in atmosphere, chose that moment to walk out the back door. Her presence, always a comforting constant, felt especially needed now. Noticing your distress, she approached with a blend of concern and motherly intuition.

"Y/N. You okay?" Her voice was gentle, an anchor in the storm of emotions you found yourself adrift in.

"I'm okay. I was just on the phone with Jake."

"What did he say?"

You shrugged. "Nothing really. He's upset I won't quit my schooling because of the loss of the baby."

Cindy's expression softened with understanding, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and empathy. "Y/N. I'm so sorry. Jake can be…" She paused, seemingly searching for the right words, understanding the complexity of emotions involved.

You interrupted her, not wanting to place blame or dwell on the negative. "No. It's okay. I leave for Wyoming next week." Your voice carried a determination, a clear indication that despite the emotional turmoil, you were set on moving forward with your plans and commitments.

Cindy nodded, respecting your decision. "Well, I just want you to know that we're here for you, no matter what. And if you need anything while you're in Wyoming, you just let us know."

"I will. Thank you."

Tags:

@buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbell @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891

[callsign-dexter]

The Sibling Connection

Summary: Now 23 and 38 the Bradshaw siblings come back to Miramar and see an old face. Feelings come up and surprises are revealed.

Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x Sister!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, very inaccurate military talk, and timing

Masterlist

First Installment- Brotherly Love

Second Installment- The Sibling Connection

A/N: Italics mean that they are up in the air or getting ready to be up in the air.

Y/N wasn't at The Hard Deck when her brother arrived; this is due to her being fresh out of flight school and now officially a pilot. She had just been at her base in Fallon, Nevada for 3 days when she was told she would be helping out at Top Gun for a secret mission. She exceeded all of her training but then again what do you expect when you have an uncle that is the Commander of the US Pacific Fleet and taught you everything to know about flying?

When Y/N turned 18 she applied to the Naval Academy but first talked with her brother about it. He wanted her to chase her dreams and so he helped her even though he didn't get in, he wasn't gonna hold her back like Maverick did to him. He supported her the entire time. She kept him updated with everything and also Maverick too but it was mostly about her and not Bradley, per his request, and she respected that. When she told Bradley that she wanted to fly he was ecstatic, when she told him she wanted to fly the F-35B he was a little disappointed it wasn't a F/A-18E Super Hornet but didn't make her switch, they even joke about it and play fight. 

The next day when everyone showed up to class, Bradley looked around for his sister but she wasn't there and he frowned slightly. He really didn't pay attention to what was going on but he was listening.

"Attention on deck!" Someone said and everyone scooted their chairs back and stood at attention as Warlock and Cyclone. 

"Morning." Warlock said and everyone sat down "Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated. I’m Admiral Bates, NAWDC commander. You’re all top gun graduates. The elite. The best of the best. That was yesterday. The enemy’s new fifth-generation fighter has leveled the playing field. Details are few, but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage. Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman in the box. Half of you will make the cut. One of you will be named mission leader. The other half will remain in reserve. Your instructor is a top gun graduate with real-world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master. His exploits are legendary. And he’s considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced. What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death. I give you Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: “Maverick.” Warlock finished as Maverick walked up the aisle and Bradley's frown deepened. 

"Good morning. The f-18 natops. It contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft. I’m assuming you know the book inside and out." Maverick said Bradley was listening but wasn't happy about Maverick teaching him. Oh how he wished his sister would show up.

"Damn right." Jake said and another person said "Damn straight."

"You got it. So does your enemy." Maverick said threw the book into the trash.

"And we’re off." Warlock said

"But what the enemy doesn’t know is your limits. I intend to find them, test them, and push beyond. Today we’ll start with what you only think you know. You show me what you’re made of." Maverick continued "Before we continue Cyclone has something he wants to add." He said and took a step away and to the side as Cyclone walked up.

"Since this mission is dangerous and high stakes, we are bringing in another pilot. She will be flying the F-35 but will not be running the mission with you but will be training with you. She will be back up in the skies only and will take off with everyone else. She will assist if she needs to." Cyclone said and Bradley could feel his smirk, mood lightening, and sitting up straighter. "She has exceeded her training and has graduated early from pilot training and is now a stealth pilot. Everyone, I would like you to meet Lieutenant Y/N Bradshaw. Call sign: Sparhawk." Cyclone said as you reached the front and turned. You smiled and waved at the rest and then your eyes turned onto Bradley who had a smirk on his face and you smiled back at him.

Everyone was dismissed. Y/N was already out by her F-35. She would be going up with every hop to pose as another enemy along with Maverick. She saw Bradley get stopped by Maverick but wasn't able to hear anything. Bradley walked away from Maverick and came up to her. 

"Took you long enough." He said playfully and she laughed and smiled.

"I wanted it to be a surprise." She told him which is true he knew she was coming but just not when. He smiled and shook his head.

"You haven't changed one-bit little sis." Bradley said.

"I haven't but you have." She shot back she missed the playful banter. He just smirked.

"If you need anything. Let me know." He told her and she nodded her head.

"You got it, bro. Be safe up there." She said and turned to get up in her jet.

"You too sis." He replied and headed to his own jet. 

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The training was going well. Each hop was different from the last since each pilot had different flying skills. Y/N stayed unseen which was doable since she had a jet that was almost completely invisible from radar. There were a few times that she had freaked out the others by flying right next to them and they didn't even know. She especially liked to freak out Jake. 

It had been when Jake, Natasha, and Bob were up for one of the hops. Jake was looking over at the other two and that's when Y/N silently flew up next to him. Both Natasha and Bob were smirking.

"What are the two of you smirking at?" Jake asked and they said nothing but Y/N's voice came into the comms.

"Why don't you look to your left, Bagman." She said with a smirk on her face and you could hear it. He looked to his left and saw her there and he jerked his jet to the right and almost hit Natasha and Bob but he corrected it before he crashed. 

"Geez, Spawhawk. Where did you come from?" He asked, "You almost gave me a heart attack." He continued and she laughed. 

"I've been here for at least 10 minutes." She said with a smirk on her face. 

"Warning next time would be nice." He said and she laughed.

"That would beat the purpose of it being a stealth jet." She responded back with sass. They didn't get to speak much longer because Maverick's voice came on the comms. 

"Ok enough chit chatting. Sparhawk, time to start." Maverick said and she nodded even though he couldn't see it. 

"You got it Mav." She said and dropped her speed and seamlessly disappeared but in reality she just dropped down below the other jets and let them speed past her. She flew to Mav and settled right next to him. They decided to make the others sweat and they switched to private communication. 

"So an F-35?" Maverick asked her and she smiled though he couldn't see it. 

"Yea I figured it would be a nice change of pace and I like stealth." She said and he laughed. 

"You sure do. Are you ready to take them down?" He asked her. 

"Absolutely." She replied and off they went. Mav was the distraction while she stealthy came up behind them and toned them. This went on for several hops. 

Bradley was the toughest but eventually he was toned too. When Coyote went into g-loc she thought she was going to have a heart attack along with the bird strike, but in the end everyone was ok. 

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Not much time was given to hang out except when Maverick made time for dogfight football. It was wild and Y/N loved it. She always had a competitive side with Bradley and just in general. Getting to hang out with hot sweaty, shirtless, muscled, 6-pack abs, and sun-kissed skin guys wasn't bad either.  

After Y/N and her team won against Bradley they all sat down to cool off and some even went into the ocean. Bradley came over to her and threw an arm around her and she made a face.

"Bro you're sweaty. Get off of me." She said and pushed him away and he laughed.

"Look who's talking. You're just about as sweaty as I am." He pushed her back and smiled. They eventually stopped and talked until the sun went down and they headed home. What they didn't know was that Maverick was several feet back watching them smiling. He was glad Y/N stayed in touch and sad that Bradley didn't. He was surprised that she went into the Navy but couldn't blame her. 

Everyone left the beach and headed home to continue the next day. Then they were off to do the mission and come home, safely.

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The time has come for the mission. Everyone was nervous but ready for it. Maverick picked his team and Y/N was shocked when Bradley's name was called and her stomach dropped. She already knew she would be going but she feared for her brother. They all started to go out towards their jets when Cyclone stopped her.

"Lt. Bradshaw, stay back for a few seconds." She stopped and turned to look at him as the other left and Bradley gave her a questioning look. He also stopped Maverick before he left  "Captain Mitchell a word." He said as he was getting ready to leave.

"What can we do for you?" Maverick asked and then Warlock walked up to them.

"We have decided to send Lt. Bradshaw out before the Daggers." Both Maverick and Y/N were shocked, this was not the plan.

 "Captain Mitchell, you will still be leading the Daggers. Once everyone gets to the opening of the mountain, Lt. Bradshaw will drop out and do air control." They both were silent as Warlock spoke about the change of plans.

"Understood." Both of them said.

"Dismissed." Cyclone said and both Cyclone and Warlock walked out of the room followed by Maverick and Y/N, but not before looking at each other. 

When they got to their jets and Maverick and Bradley talked, Bradley walked up to his sister. "What was that about?" He asked.

"You know I'm not allowed to say. It's just the plans have changed. You'll see once we get up in the air." She said and he nodded but he could tell that she was nervous, they could always tell when something was up with the other it was just the sibling connection they shared. The announcement came on telling them that they were ready to launch. They hugged each other. "I love you, big brother." She said and he hugged her tighter.

"I love you too little sis." He replied and then let go of her and they went and got in their jets getting ready to take off. 

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They had Y/N's jet taxi to the catapult and she could feel the eyes of her teammates on her. They would be asking questions later. "Safety Dagger up and ready." She said into her comms. They gave her the go and the shooter gave the command and she shot off the deck and into the sky. Once she was far enough away they gave the ok for the other Daggers. She could hear Maverick talking but wasn't paying attention. She was on the lookout for bandits but found none. She saw the missiles fly above her and once the opening of the canyon, she dropped down and let the now-in-formation Daggers go ahead of her. She broke right and went around the mountain monitoring the skies. 

She was far enough away from the mountains but still close enough. As she was monitoring the skies she came across one of the bandits. "Safety Dagger this Comanche. You have a bandit at 3 o'clock." She looked at her radar and so behold there it was.

"Comanche, this is Safety Dagger. Copy that. Will not engage unless need to." She said into her comms.

"Copy that Safety Dagger." Comanche said. Everything was going smoothly until they spotted her and it was game on. 

"Comanche bandit is engaging, Safety Dagger is responding." She said.

"Copy, Safety Dagger." They said to her, she dropped her speed and dropped altitude. She was trying to disappear from their radar and it was working. 

She got behind them and got tone but she was still far enough away from them they couldn't see her. She got closer and they panicked and started to try to lose her. Each move they made she made. "Can't shake me. Our jets are practically the same." She said to herself. "Oh you're good but I'm better." She said and after a few minutes and a few missile shots and gunshots, she got the final tone and shot, taking them down. Her 1st confirmed kill. She still has a lot of ammo left. She had this feeling that something was right and boy was she right when she started to hear all the commotion going on and then Maverick went down and her heart dropped. She saw Natasha, Bob, Mickey, and Javy emerge but not Bradley. She flew up beside them. "Where is my brother?" She asked any of them but they remained silent "Answer me." She almost growled. 

"He went back for Mav." Bob finally said and boy was she angry. She quickly pulled her jet to the left and headed towards where they were last. When Cyclone came over the comms 

"Safety Dagger, return to the ship." He said and she was pissed.

"What's the point of a Safety Dagger if it's not going to protect the fellow Daggers?" She replied and Cyclone knew she was right and she might be in trouble but be damn with it. 

"Safety Dagger you are clear to proceed." Cyclone said and she nodded and proceeded to her brother. She flew around but couldn't see them. She practically growled. "Safety Dagger, report." He said. 

"Plane wreckage but not shoots or bodies." She said looking through the bottom of the plane thanks to her extremely up to date technology helmet. She then saw an F-14 on the runway and knew it was them but didn't say anything. She didn't want to alert the enemies. 

The F-14 took off and was in the sky. Once far enough away from the base she flew up beside them scaring the crap out of them. But once they saw she was friendly they were relieved. "Thought I would never see you again boys." She said into the comms. Bradley laughed. 

"What made you come looking for us?" He asked.

"Let's call it the sibling connection kicked in. I knew that you were still alive and I wasn't about to not help." She said to her brother and pseudo father. 

"Well, I'm glad it's still working. Let's go home." He said and that is exactly what they did but not before running into several bandits. They put up a good fight. Y/N could give them that but she had a jet of the same technology as them. She broke away from them and took off after the 3rd bandit and they watched her in a dogfight, and they were impressed, while they were fighting off on their own. They quickly got rid of their first one and they watched her take down the 3rd one, which was behind her but she shot a missile and it shot out but it went up and behind her hitting the 3rd bandit, they were impressed, confirming her 2nd kill. The second bandit was now chasing Maverick and Bradley through the canyon but she had another problem, a 4th bandit showed up and she was in another dogfight.

Y/N and the 4th bandit were chasing each other just as soon as she took down the bandit, Bradley and Maverick came back without the bandit and knew they would be ok. The 4th bandit was her 3rd confirmed kill. A 5th bandit showed up and Maverick and Bradley were out of ammo she put up a fight for them as they tried to invade and damaged the bandit but soon ran out of ammo.

Just as soon as they thought they were done for the plane that was in front of them but now behind them, after turning avoiding gunshots, them blew up and Jake came out of the smoke. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman, this is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seat belts, return the tray tables to their locked an upright positions and prepare for landing." Jakes voice came through the comms.

'Hangman , you're looking good." Bradley said

"I am good, Rooster. I'm very good." Jake said to him being the cocky son of a bitch that he was. They all headed back to the ship, first Jake then Y/N, and then finally Maverick and Bradley. Once Bradley and Maverick crashed landed they got out of the plane and everyone cheered.

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Once they debriefed and got onto solid ground everyone gathered at The Hard Deck, except Cyclone, Warlock, and Maverick. They all chatted about and making plans for their well deserved team when Y/N silently slipped out on to the deck and looked out over to the ocean. Her brother noticed the absence of his sister and went out to her. He slung an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his embrace. "Warlock tells me that you have now 3 confirmed kills." and she smiled and nodded.

"That would be correct." She said and he smiled.

"I'm proud of you. I know it was hard to take a life. Mom, Dad, and Uncle Ice would be so proud of you too." He said a laid a kiss to her hair. They heard the others cheering but didn't pay attention to it they were enjoying their sibling time together.

"You're right it wasn't easy but it was necessary." She said. Maverick walked out onto the deck and joined them smiling at them before walking up beside them.

"You missed the announcement." He told them. Bradley and Maverick were working on their relationship it would take time to heal but it was going in the right direction. They both looked at him.

"Oh?" Y/N asked as Bradley spoke up. "What's that?" Bradley asked at the same time.

"Yes. I just got out of a meeting with Cyclone and Warlock. They have decided to make this squad a permanent one. He also said that Y/N will also train and learn to fly the F/A-18E Super Hornet." Maverick said to the both and they all smiled. No words were needed. They all looked out into the ocean and setting sun.

Bradley hugged his little sister tighter and dropped another kiss to her head. Y/N leaned further into her brother enjoying the warmth from him and the familiar scent that she had grown up with. Maverick looked out into the sunset just thinking that Goose and Carole were up there smiling and begin glad that they had him in their life, even though there was rough patches. Occasionally Maverick would look at them and smile. He was glad they were together again and they were safe.

Bradley and Y/N truly did share the sibling connection. Now they don't have to be away from each other. Now Bradley could protect his little sister from guys, especially guys like Jake and Jake. Y/N had her big brother and pseudo father right there when she needed someone to go to when things get rough. The family was back together again.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx20

[boeingboingboing]

What would Echo and Bravo think of Top Gun: Maverick?

Holy crap, anon i AM ABSOLUTELY SORRY FOR ANSWERING THIS LATE but here you go:

Echo and Bravo were huge fans of the first movie, and the moment they realised there was a sequel they went crazy over it.

I honestly imagine them not missing a beat, and heading over to the theatres or wherever they could, just to watch it with some other jolly wrenches during their break. Maybe they even brought over Dusty 👀

The aftermath was them fanboying over the newer actors and the fact this movie had the presence of F-18 super hornets. Admiral Flysenhower and Captain Stinger sure experienced another bunch of low flybys from the one and only Echo and Bravo chasing him screaming in the comms to not cause they'd be in for another lecture right after.

[thatsrightice]

THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER ROCK

Saw this video on tik tok and loved it so much. Of course I immediately knew it wasn’t an aircraft carrier, but because I’m me I did some digging on the effects of rough seas on aircraft carriers.

I remember seeing the pitching deck covered in an episode of Carrier, a PBS documentary covering life on an aircraft carrier that I refuse to shut up about. In a previous post I highlighted the effects of the pitching deck on pilots during nighttime carrier landings and just how TERRIFYING they are by adding a video from PBS Carrier episode Rite of Passage. During that episode a pilot had this to say:

Dude, all I know was I was in close and they’re like ‘a little power’ and I look down and saw the ******* back of the ship above me and I was like AHHHHHHH!!!!

But it’s dark and we can’t really see from that one video just how much it’s moving but like holy swear word tumblr won’t let me say!

And it’s crazy because to those below deck it looks a little different. Thanks to the sheer size and intricate design of aircraft carriers, there’s nothing more than a little sway to those on board.

I mean one wrong step and you’ll be hitting something hard I’m sure.

Of course there’s more to it than that. One person stated that you really just had to time when to go up ladders like when the ship falls off of a big wave you’ll kind of float up the ladder. He also had the following to say:

The North Atlantic is a bitch during winter. On the USS Kennedy 1976, in really bad weather, the seas were very rough. The ship turns into the waves, and goes up and down, no “rolling”. I watched 6 sailors, watching the TV in the berthing compartment, rise 4 feet into the air, and fall back to the Deck. no one even moved from the chairs. They were watching the recorded “Muppet Show”. A big hit back then!

Insane.

[codumofr]

Le Boeing F/A-18E, ainsi que le Boeing F/A-18F Super Hornet sont les avions de combat multirôle ayant succédé aux McDonnell Douglas F/A-18 Hornet. Entrée en service en 1980, il sera entre autres utilisé dans les porte-avions américains, mais à une estimation de 6 % de la flotte militaire aérienne. C’est en 1995 que le prototype du F/A-18E entre dans une phase d’assemblage final avec la livraison du premier moteur dans le même mois. Il volera la première fois le 15 septembre 1995 pour le F/A-18E et le 29 Novembre 1995 pour le F/A-18F Super Hornet. Facilement reconnaissable grâce à ses entrées d’air rectangulaires à la différence des entrées d’air arrondis du Super Hornet, il est ainsi peu probable de les confondre pour les connaisseurs. Son avionique est toutefois à 90 % commune avec son prédécesseur malgré le poste de pilotage partiellement modifié. Il accuse à cause de cela un sérieux vingt-an d’existence, qui pouvait être dépassé voire obsolète pour son époque. Entrant en service en 1999 dans l’US Navy, il remplace les F-14 Tomcat en étant un des rares programmes d’armement contemporains ayant respecté les délais et le budget prévus à son encontre. La version EA-18G Growler entrera lui en service en 2009 pour remplacer les EA-6B Prowler mis en service en 1971. Se montant à 700 appareils commandés et livrables en plusieurs tranches en 2010 en comprenant sa version EA-18G Growler pour la guerre électronique, 500 appareils seront assemblés en 2011 et 440 seront même livrés à la Navy. En 2022, l’US Navy présente le “Navigation Plan 2045” qui prévoit les dernières commandes de F/A18E et F/A-18F en 2023 tandis que les Super Hornet sont prévus pour être retirés de l’ensemble du service pour une période entre 2040 et 2045. En 2007, c’est la Royal Australien Air Force qui commande vingt-quatre exemplaires pour un montant de 6 milliards de dollars australiens (soit 3,1 milliards de dollars US) et qu’elle reçoit à partir de 2010. L’appareil est équipé d’un F414 qui lui permet des vitesses de Mach 1.8 à un plafond de 12’190 m (son plafond opérationnel étant de 15’000m). Son armement est d’un canon rotatif de 20 mm Vulcan M61A2 et de 11 charges externes.

l’engagement des F/A-18E et des F/A-18F Super Hornet survient à partir d’Octobre 2014 avec le conflit au Moyen-Orient contre l’État Islamique où il sera utilisé comme appareil de reconnaissance avec l’appui de drone. Ce n’est qu’en juin 2017 que le premier appareil abattu par un Super Hornet est enregistré avec un Su-22 Syriens. Cette victoire est la première victoire américaine en combat aérien contre un engin piloté depuis 1999.

En termes de culture générale, l’appareil apparaît en 2001 dans le film “En Territoire Ennemi” de John Moore où il est abattu par un missile 9k35 Strela-10 (appeler SA-13 Gopher par l’OTAN), puis dans Independence Day où Will Smith et Harry Connick Jr. Sont pilotes de F/A-18 et pour finir avec les films, dans Top Gun : Maverick en 2022 où ils sont mis à l’honneur, remplaçant les célèbres F-14 Tomcat du 1er film. Il apparaît aussi dans le Roman “Lions of the Sky” de l’auteur, mais aussi ancien pilote dans l'aéronavale Franscesco “Paco” Chierici qui raconte l’histoire de pilotes de F/A-18F qui seront élèves puis instructeurs tout en étant plus tard affectés au Strike Fighter Squadron 213 (VFA-213).

[missathlete31]

Dead on Your Feet Chapter 2-

An AU in which Hangman is team leader and takes the missile to save Rooster, yet Bradley comes back to save Hangman as well. As he struggles to get himself and his teammate home, Jake is pushed to his limits in more ways than even he anticipated.

Chapter 1 is here

Warnings for this chapter- some descriptions of injuries (not too graphic but just to be safe). Also Jake goes through a lot of mental anguish here

Warmth is what brings Jake back to awareness after his plane crashes to the ground, and not a gentle warmth like an afternoon sun on a spring day. No, this is straight heat he feels, worse than the time his parents locked him out of the house in the dead of Texas summer. Jake struggles to open an eye; to gauge his surroundings, but even lifting an eyelid feels like a herculean effort and the pilot just can’t muster the strength at the moment.

Heat…Fire… Plane on Fire….Get up!

Jake’s brain pushes the connection through his body, awakening enough wherewithals for him to open a green eye and see the fiery remains of his jet all around. Somehow the crash threw Jake’s body out of the worst of the debris but when he looks up he sees pieces of the plane ready to fall and land on top of him. By his left side Jake can see flames licking at the ends of his flight suit and he knows he has to move. He turns his head slowly, cautious of whiplash or a back injury to see a clear path towards his right. An army crawl seems impossible so Jake tries to roll over instead. He makes it about an inch before a sharp pain on his right side makes him stop and swear for a moment before he gains enough momentum to lift his head.

He expects to see something sticking out of his stomach, the pain so bad he must be impaled, but nothing is visible meaning Jake is facing an internal injury. He’s had broken ribs before (his father the culprit of more than a dozen in his childhood years) but they never felt this bad.

A piece of burning wreckage teeters above him and pain be damned Jake forces himself onto his front as he scampers out of the way. He doesn’t clear completely, something hitting the back of his head sharply and causing his vision to tunnel. He pushes past it though, getting himself into a safer position before he falls back into the snow.

Jake is on his back now, looking up at brightened sky that feels wrong with all the discomfort coursing through his body. He knows he should catalogue his injuries, find what really hurts but his body is just one giant pulse of pain and he is almost over-stimulated because of it. He closes his eyes, almost on the verge of passing out again when he hears a plane’s engine. It snaps him back to reality, his eyes scanning the skies to see a familiar F-18 super hornet heading towards his location. For a moment Jake fights the urge to cry, the thought of one of his teammates coming back for him enough to quell the feelings of worthlessness he had grown accustomed too. Instead he tries to sit up, the sharp throbbing of his abdomen making it exceedingly more difficult, as he tries to flag down the jet overhead.

As the plane gets closer Jake can just barely make out that it’s a single-seater; meaning that unless Maverick broke the speed of sound to try to supply support, the pilot that came back for him was none other than Rooster. Jake’s mind wants to unpack this bit of information, but the blonde refuses to give it credence, his concern staying focused on showing Bradshaw that he is indeed alive.

The jet circles once but Jake’s not sure he’s more than a speck of debris from Bradley’s vantage point so he struggles to stand himself up. It’s not easy, not that anything at this point has been, but Jake manages to get to a knee before he looks up again and waves a weak hand up. He hopes Bradley sees something before a noise makes his stomach drop- Bradshaw hit one of the other missile zones and he’s below the threshold. Three surface to air missiles come shooting out but it only takes one. It makes a direct hit with Rooster’s left engine and Jake watches in horror as the plane starts making a beeline for the ground.

With a cry of anguish, Jake’s body crumbles to the ground. This is exactly what he never wanted, a teammate, a friend, dying for him. His father was right, Rooster was right, the team was right, all Jake was good for was to bring death and sadness to those around him. He wishes he never got himself up to wave, wishes Bradshaw saw nothing and headed back to the ship, away from danger and away from the damage Jake inflicts on those around him. Jake’s not sure how he could face a rescue now, how he could dare go back to the carrier and tell the others that Rooster died trying to save him of all people. Jake fights the urge to throw up but it’s too much, the grip of grief too tight on his heart and his stomach and he heaves into the snow roughly, the pain in his side burning at the effort.

Tears continue to well in his eyes and he blinks them away, his vision turning watery as he pushes himself back onto his hunches and looks around him. It is then he catches something falling slowly from the sky, a parachute deployed with a pilot attached. He gasps with a combination of shock, alarm and the underlying feeling of hope before Jake gets himself fully standing because Bradshaw is alive and he has to go get to him. It’s the motivation he needs to get himself moving again and he grasps that fact with all the willpower he has left in him.

Jake wants to run through the woods immediately but he forces himself to think logically first. He heads back to his plane’s wreckage, and can just make out his go bag under the flaming remains of his fuselage. It’s filled with a canteen, some rations, a first aid kit, a compass and his knife- basically everything he needs if he wants to survive and Jake finds in his heart he does, if not for himself than for the teammate he trapped with him. Shuffling painfully low, Jake reaches through the flames, struggling to ignore the licks of fire burning his fingers as he finds purchase on the bag straps. He pulls but nothing moves and now Jake can smell gas leaking, the ultimate sign of things getting a hell of a lot worse quickly. He pulls again, harder this time and the bag slowly wiggles but still it’s not free. He braces himself to pull once more but before he can the fuselage explodes in the most brilliant display of flames Jake’s ever seen. He’s too close to it though and he is pushed back with a force that knocks every ounce of air from his lungs before throwing him back into the snow. His head connects sharply with the ground and he’s seeing stars for a few moments before he can even begin to function. When he comes back to some semblance of reality Jake feels heat on his face. He tries to turn over but suddenly he’s vomiting again, this time with an alarming amount of red tinged in it before he falls over to his left, his face finding solace as it hits the coolness of the snow.

He wants to stay there forever. He wants to stay in this frozen tundra with his burning face buried in the snow for the rest of time. The feeling of cold is the only relief he’s felt since the crash and if he’s taking an inventory, his body is very close to its limit. Yet Jake knows he can’t stay. Bradshaw’s out there, in the woods because of him. He’s ejected from a plane and could be injured because of him. Burns, fractured ribs, concussion be damned, Jake owes it to Rooster to get to him. He thinks of Maverick’s pre-mission words once more and slowly gets his body moving.

Pain has always been a part of Jake's life: physically, mentally, emotionally. He taught himself early on how to deal with the worst the world has to offer so he tells himself that this is nothing. These pulsing waves of pain, that slowly overwhelm his senses are just a distraction. He forces himself up, moving first to his knees and then finally when his head stops spinning he gets his feet under him.

Once standing, he shoulders his go bag and takes a deep breath. It isn't as hard as he expects with possibly broken ribs or maybe he just doesn't let it be as hard as it should be. He is focused now, stubbornly so, and his mind has always been frighteningly obstinate when he wants it to be.

He looks back up at the treeline but he can’t see Bradley’s parachute anymore. He knows which direction it was headed though so he shuffles that way. Taking one last glance at his burning jet, Jake closes his eyes and wishes for strength. He doesn’t exactly get it but he’s got enough determination to push himself forward in a slow trot through the trees. It’s excruciating on his ribs but Jake’s made of tougher stuff than anyone’s ever given him credit for. He dissociates himself from his injuries as much as possible and keeps putting one foot in front of the other, his mind only on his teammate.

Like he promised himself before this mission, he is getting them all home.