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ofstoriesandstardust · 2 years ago

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maroon (j.h.s.)

a/n: every goddamn piece of this is self-indulgent but as jordan always says, is that not what fanfiction is meant to be? i’d be more than willing to write more for these two but i’m also afraid this is what’s going to get me voted off the top gun island so goodbye i’m going to go hide under a rock until further notice.

pt. ii

summary: (Kazansky!reader) This is the way had always been.

Hangman flirted with anything and everything, bedding a new women every night and leaving them the next morning.

So when he picks up flirting with you, you know he’s just in it for the trouble, a way to get under your Dad’s skin. He’s just in it for the scarlet color of your cheeks every time he calls you “darling”. He’s just after you because you’re young and new, fresh meat for him. You know you’d never let your guard down enough to be wooed by this man, no matter how good it feels to have those sea-glass eyes on you.

And that’s how it goes. Hangman flirting with you every night while you worked, under the watchful eye of his team mates, with nothing more ever coming of it.

Until one night it changes, all because of a cowboy hat.

partially inspired by taylor swift’s “maroon”

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist

warnings: age gap (of 11-ish years? but the specific years aren’t mentioned just that there is an age gap), implied/referenced sex, kissing, a heavy makeout, hickeys, i haven’t made out with anyone in two years, this is the closest to smut you will catch me writing, swearing, alcohol, Icemav but it’s a minor plot point, Maverick never pulled Rooster’s papers but he still went to UVA

word count: 2,885

His eyes track her across the bar, watching the way Bradshaw’s hands clap down on her shoulders, causing her to startle as she carries a crate. Even dressed in a plain black tee and jeans, a brown belt adorning her waist, he can’t help but admire how good she looks.

He watches as she offers Bradshaw a forced smile, causing a frown to tug at the brunette’s lips. Ever the pair, Bradshaw cared for her in a way only a brother could. Bradshaw settles down at the bar as she begins to unload clean glasses into the bar in preparation for what would probably be a busy Saturday night.

It’s futile for him to pretend he doesn’t remember the way she climbed into his lap the night before, straddling him, as he undid her belt in a flurry of passion, in vivid detail.

He knows that hidden beneath the material of her shirt are bruises he left, always wanting to claim and mark what was his.

The bell at the door of the Hard Deck rings, pulling him from remembering the night before any longer as he watches Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell walk through the door.

Sometimes, it baffled him that the two of them were married. Sometimes, he realized there was no one more perfect for them than the other.

He watches the couple settle at the bar, talking with Rooster and the bartender, so clearly fond of both.

“Hey, how come Admiral Kazansky’s so fond of Penny’s bartender?”

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them as he leans up against his pool cue. Coyote lets out a half-laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

He turns to his friend. “What?”

Coyote shakes his head, turning away from him as he moves to take his shot. “Just can’t believe you’re so clueless.”

“What?”

Coyote finally straightens up, looking at him. “She’s his daughter.”

He pales, looking to his friend closely for confirmation he’s not just fucking with him. He kind wishes he was, that Coyote’s hand would clap on his shoulder and say Nah, just kidding man, should’ve seen your face though.

His hands feels sweaty against his pool cue as a growing pit of dread forms in his stomach. Coyote frowns as he remains silent. “What?”

“Oh, I fucked up.” He whispers, mostly to himself as he stumbles back, landing in one of the spare bar stools near them.

Coyote follows, coming closer. “What did you do?”

He lets go of his pool cue, Coyote grabbing it before it clangs to the ground as his hands move to rub over his face. “Oh, I’ve fucked up.”

Coyote takes a half-step closer, nudging his shoulder. He looks up to meet the somewhat suspecting look on his best friend’s face.

“What did you do?”

The first time you meet Jake Seresin, it’s a sunny Wednesday afternoon in May. It’s been eleven days since you graduated college, packing up your whole life and moving back home to San Diego, not that anyone’s counting.

The bell above the door of the Hard Deck jingles as he walks through it, pulling off his shades as his eyes adjust to the the dimmer lighting of the bar. He saunters towards the bar, pulling your attention from where you’re wiping down the bar. He settles on the bar stool in front of you, offering you his trade-mark, award-winning smile (one that you’re sure he’s been told is dazzling).

Penny’s just gone back to the office to grab something and you take a deep breath, looking up at him. He’d be the first customer you served... ever.

“How can I help you?” You ask.

He ignores the question, pulling a toothpick form his pocket and putting it in his mouth. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, a moment he doesn't miss. “Admiring the view?”

You shake your head, clearing any thoughts from you brain. “I assume you came in here for a drink.”

He shrugs, setting an arm on the bar to lean up against it even though he’s sat. “Who knows? Maybe I came in here to talk to the pretty new bartender.”

“The pretty new bartender is off-limits Hangman.” Penny calls from the office.

“And why is that?” He calls back.

She appears in the doorway of the office, causing you to look behind you. “Because she’s 22 and fresh out of college.”

“I’ve always liked them young.” He says, eyes raking over you. “Fresh out of college, you say?”

The bell rings again, pulling your attention to the door. “Don’t even think about it, Bagman.” Bradley calls from the front door, striding towards the two of you.

His eyes don’t leave your body, still looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s seen all day. “Oh, but I am Bradshaw.”

Bradley comes in to view, nudging his shoulder. “Stay away from my little sister Bagman.”

That causes the blonde’s eyes to fly up from where they had settled on your chest, rapidly moving between you and Bradley. “You serious Bradshaw?”

“We’re not related.” You answer, finding your voice as two other (you’re assuming) pilots approach the bar. You distantly recognize them as Bob and Phoenix, friends of Bradley’s from the uranium enrichment plant mission that brought him back to San Diego permanently.

The blonde seems to breathe a sigh of relief, body physically sagging with it.

“We might as well be.” Bradley answers, tossing you a look. “Our Dads are friends.”

You snort. “Sure. Friends.”

You recognize a couple of the other pilots that approach the bar from pictures Brad’s sent you, from the Facebook posts Mav makes. From the phone calls with your Dad, talking about the new group of pilots permanently stationed at North Island. From the stories of the legends who had nearly died together, who had all come home.

Bradley rolls his eyes as his friends join him. “You know what I mean. We go way back.”

“Will I ever be able to get rid of you?” You ask ruefully, shooting him a smile.

Bradley pulls his aviators further down on his nose, giving you a smirk and a wink. “Never, darling. You’re stuck with me.” You shake your head as he pushes his aviators back on to his nose. “How’s your first day going?”

You shrug. “It’s a bar job that my Dad hooked up for me so I don’t sit at home twiddling my thumbs for the foreseeable future while I try to figure out what do to do with my life.”

“Hey, shit could always be worse.” He says, offering you a smile.

Natasha, who’ve you learned to recognize from the years she’s been friends with the person who’s inserted himself into your life from the moment you were born, offers you a small smile. “How was graduation?”

“I’m still mad you wouldn’t let me come.” Bradley mutters.

��Okay top 1% Naval aviator who can just drop everything to come to my graduation.” You say, rolling your eyes. “But it was good. I’m happy to be back in San Diego.” You say, now looking back towards Natasha.

“Well, if you ever need anything, give me a holler.” You nod, smiling at her words.

“I know how you could help me.” Hangman says, eyes never leaving yours once.

Bradley leans over to smack him upside the head. “Don’t even think about it Bagman, I’ll drown your ass in the ocean outside.”

And so that’s how it goes.

Everyday after work, Bradley and company would appear at the Hard Deck. You quickly learned their callsigns and their names and their lives, some of the finest people you knew.

Bob, who offered you a goofy smile and would sit at the bar on slow nights, just to chat.

Coyote, who always tipped well.

Fanboy, who sat and discussed the plot line of the latest Pokemon game for the Nintendo Switch in-depth with you.

Payback, who always cracked a joke that made you laugh no matter what kind of day you were having.

Phoenix, also known as Natasha, (to you, just Nat) who always invited you and Callie and Amelia over for girls nights, who felt more like a big sister than a friend, who fit so seamlessly into your life it was like she’d always been there.

And then there was Bagman. Also known as Hangman. Also known as Jake.

Jake, who reveled in the scarlet of your cheeks every time he complimented you, commenting on how flattering your top made your chest look, or how he admired the way the bar lights reflected in your eyes. Jake, who had no problem picking up women, and yet had set his sights on you.

Jake, who was completely and thoroughly off-limits, no matter how much your heart wanted him.

Wanted the man who gave you a dazzling smile every time he entered the bar, who always asked about your day, who always made sure you got home safe. Your stupid heart wouldn’t catch up with what your brain (and everyone else) already knew. That you couldn’t have Jake and even if you could, he didn't want you. You were someone fun to flirt with because ti was easy to fluster you, easy to get under your skin.

So you resigned yourself to hang to the back, to watch him woo women night after night, watch him sleep with anything that had a pulse. To hear about his conquests the next day when he discussed the marks left on his body, the blush of your cheeks at his graphic description of how he got them.

(One time, he asked you if you’d like to do the same to him. You don’t think you breathed properly for fifteen minutes.)

You resigned yourself to be nothing more than the pretty bartender and it stayed that way as the summer months went by.

“This doesn’t seem like your scene. What’re you doing here?”

You jump, relaxing slightly when you catch sight of Jake, dressed in a nice pair of blue jeans and deep emerald green shirt that compliments his eyes. His outfit is completed by the cowboy hat on top of his head, prompting you to giggle and raise an eyebrow. “A cowboy hat? Really?”

He narrows his eyes, bottom lip jutting out as his fingers pass over the rim. “I happen to like it quite a bit. It makes me feel like home. And it is cowboy night after all.” He steps into your space. “But you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.”

“I could ask you the same thing, Bagman.” You say, although the close proximity of his body to yours is making it hard for you to breath properly.

He shrugs, backing away and falling back to a couch shoved into the corner of the bar. It gives him the perfect view of the bar, even if it’s dimly lit enough for it to make it difficult to see who’s back here. He pats the spot next to him expectantly, as if you joining him is the most natural thing in the world. You sigh, taking the seat next to him as you watch the dancing out on the floor.

“One of my neighbors heard about this and invited me. My Dad has been trying to get me out of the house for anything besides work so here I am.”

He nods, eyes skimming over the crowd. “And your neighbor? Where is she?”

You hum, eyes searching the crowd for the girl. “She’s been dying to meet a cowboy, so maybe I should introduce the two of you- hey, there she is!” You point the girl out. She’s cozied up to another man, also wearing a cowboy hat.

“She’s not my type.” He says, taking a sip of his drink.

You splutter, bringing your gaze back to him. “Not your type? She’s gorgeous.”

He shrugs. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to her.”

“So then what is your type?” He says nothing, simply bringing his gaze to yours, looking you over once before returning to his gaze to the dance floor. He takes another sip of his drink and you can’t help but watch the way he licks his lips.

“She’s not a very good friend if she’s leaving you alone for any man to swoop in.”

“Oh, like you?” You ask, the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. You feel your cheeks warm as he returns his piercing gaze to you.

“Perhaps.” He says with a nonchalant shrug, eyes moving over the maroon top on. The one your neighbor had encouraged you to wear because it quote, showed you off in all the right ways. You duck your head, cheeks blooming in an even redder color.

He reaches out, picking you up to set you in his lap, causing you to yelp at the movement. “You gotta warn a girl before you start manhandling them, Seresin.”

“Manhandling?” He asks through a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “You call that manhandling, sweetheart?”

You huff, your cheeks still warm. Still, your arms fall to sit behind his head, hands coming to cup his neck. One of your hands reaches up, knocking his cowboy hat. “And what is it with this?”

He adjusts it back in to place, frowning. “You don’t like?”

You shrug, unable to look away from his emerald eyes. “Never said I didn’t. What if I wanted to wear the cowboy hat?”

He smirks. “You know the rule, sweetheart.”

You snort. “The rule?”

His smirks grows wider, making a coil tighten in your stomach. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

Your ears begin to ring as your heart seems to stop in your chest as his words.

You duck your head, cheeks feeling a firetruck red as you take in the implication of his words. He lets you look away for a minute before one of his hands leaves the back of your thigh, reaching up to grab your chin, gently guiding your gaze back to his.

“I mean, only if you want to.”

You’re sure if your brain was an image it would the spinning wheel of your computer restarting as your tongue suddenly goes dry, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t get it.”

He furrows his eyebrows, letting his hand drop from your chin. “What do you mean?”

“I mean- Well, you’ve never shown interest in me before.”

“Yes, I have.” He splutters, eyebrows drawing together even more. “I flirt with you like, all of the time.”

You roll your eyes as his hands moves up to the back of your neck, gently moving your hair to one side. He reaches up to softly adjust your necklace that must have shifted out of place when he’d unceremoniously plopped you in his lap. “You flirt with everything Bagman.”

He leans closer, hovering over your lips. “Not like I flirt with you, sweetheart. And please, I wish you’d just call me Jake.”

You swallow, unable to look away from his piercing eyes. “Okay, Jake.” His hands have fallen back to your waist and he’s made no move to pull back.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” He whispers, eyes flickering down to your lips.

You blink in surprise. “Hardly anything, why?”

“Because I only want to do this if you want this. And I want you to want this while sober.” You can only bring yourself to nod, words suddenly leaving you. Still, it’s not enough for Jake as he murmurs, “Need to hear you say it sweetheart.”

“I want this.”

It’s all the confirmation Jake needs as he surges forward, connecting his lips to yours. The kiss is strong, stealing any remnants of breath from your chest as both of his hands slip down past your waist to rest on your ass. His grip against you is strong, pulling you farther into him as your hands have nowhere to go back to tug at his hair.

He gently tugs at your bottom lip, cautiously ask for permission. You grant it to him, his tongue heavy against your own. His hands glide over your ass as your own find purchase in his hair, tugging at the strands.

He breaks the kiss, one of his hands sliding up your body to rest on the back of your neck. His touch leaves you feeling warm all over as you pant, struggling to catch your breath as his lips fall to the crook of your neck, pressing gentle yet hungry kisses to the bare skin.

Your eyes flutter close when he finds that spot, teeth digging into your skin. “Jake, you-” You swallow, mouth too dry to speak. “You’re gonna leave a mark.”

“Good.” He mutters into the skin before continuing his work, leaving a bruise you know is gonna be a bitch to deal with in the morning. “Wanna leave a mark to match the color of your cheeks.”

He finally pulls away after taking his sweet time to mark up your neck. “That was hot.” You mutter under his watchful gaze, head still spinning with the way the night is turning out.

“We should get out of here.” He whispers.

“Before you get dishonorably discharged for public indecency?”

His smirk is back as he grips your thighs, leaning in closer. “That’s exactly why sweetheart.”

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic

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film-in-my-soul · 1 year ago

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Hey!! For the a ship, a trope, a sentence ask game: How about Icemav - accidental secret realtionship with "you guys walked in on us in the locker room, more than once, how did you not know?"

Maverick is nervous. He knows, realistically, that he shouldn't be. DADT had been repealed, Slider did a whole coming out thing for his niece the year before, hell, Maverick's seen Wolf with his hands down Holly's pants. But still, this is different. This clarifies that what he's got with Ice is here to stay, not a relative (well-loved as she is) or a hook-up when it's easy.

A hand slots into Maverick's, a body saddling up next to his in the bar booth. The hand is large, familiar, and heavier with the weight of the ring he'd slipped down Ice's fourth finger without complaint. It slides away just as quickly, old habits worn into the other man, but Maverick doesn't complain, not when Ice puts that same hand on Maverick's thigh.

"Could feel your leg shaking all the way from the door."

Maverick scoffs. "Sure you could."

Ice knocks their shoulders together and doesn't leave space between them when he settles again. It makes Maverick smile, opening his mouth to tease again when Slider's loud and unmistakable voice draws his attention.

"Alright, break it up, love birds," he slides into the space across from them, Hollywood hot on his heels.

"Where's Wolf?"

Slider rolls his eyes, and Hollywood winces.

"Might have accidentally told him the wrong day. He and Cindy took the kids to dinner."

Maverick kicks the other man under the table and doesn't look sorry when Hollywood yelps. All his previous nerves slip, and he pushes menus towards the new arrivals, waiting until their food's put in and they have drinks to try and broach why he and Ice have gathered them.

When he can't manage, picking at the corner of his bottle, Slider sighs.

"Alright, you two gonna tell us what this is all about? Cause if I gotta learn Maverick knocked up some Admiral's daughter, I'm making you pay my part of the bill."

And somehow, Slider's ability to shit talk right through a thick atmosphere has Maverick's tongue loosening.

"Ice and I are gettin' hitched." He doesn't even need to drag Ice's hand out with the simple silver engagement band, the man at his side doing it himself with a raised brow like he's daring either of the other men to say something about it.

They don't, though arguably it's worse than if they had. Hollywood spits out the beer he'd been sipping, and Slider's jaw drops damn near to the table.

"You-"

"I'm sorry, what-"

"When the hell did all this happen?" Slider settles on, waving a hand between Maverick and Ice. It makes Maverick's brows furrow, but Ice drops his arm over his shoulder, too, so what minor irritation had been forcing that expression smooths out, leaving only blatant confusion.

"What the hell do you mean?" There's a bit to Maverick's tone.

"Hey," Holly says, finally done choking, "it's not that we're not happy for you guys, hell yeah, marriage and all that, but... just... isn't it a bit fast?"

It's Maverick's turn for his mouth to slacken. He'd say they're fucking with them, but honestly, Hollywood's a shit liar, and Slider would have made some crack about them being married already.

"Are you both saying you didn't know?" Ice asks, drawing Maverick's eyes to him. He's unsurprised to see an equal amount of surprise pinching Ice's lips into a downturned line.

"I mean... we haven't seen you both in a while." Slider hedges, shrugging, and Maveirk's had just about enough. He throws up his hands.

"We've been together since '92!" comes his exclamation, "You guys walked in on us in the locker room more than once. How did you not know?"

Slider is the one who chokes this time, and Hollywood, flush high on his cheeks, probably remembering something he ought to have forgotten grimaces.

"Whoops?"

Maverick feels even less bad slamming the toe of his boots into the other man's calf a second time.

What a bunch of idiots.

#icemav #icemav ficlet #nano ficlet #top gun ficlet

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mitchellpete · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 12 - Voyeurism

pairing: tom “iceman” kazansky x f!reader (x pete “maverick” mitchell)

cw: penetrative sex, voyeurism, could count as cucking?, brief icemav implications but if you squint you can ignore it

word count: 1386

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

Maverick immediately knows what’s going on the moment he steps through the door, the noises loud and clear. His brows immediately knit together in confusion, in surprise, at the absurdity of the situation. The front door to your house had been unlocked, for starters, and you’re somewhere inside, and he can hear you moaning and what sounds like shit being knocked around.

A scowl meets Maverick’s knitted brows as he shuts the door and immediately makes his way down the hallway.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing; he’s certainly not gonna barge in and ruin your fun but Christ, is there any indication on who you’re with right now? He needs to know. And maybe he suddenly regrets everything you promised one another—that you wouldn’t catch feelings, that this fling wouldn’t last past his time at Top Gun—but maybe he actually did like you, and you just ruined it all the moment his hand turned the knob to your door.

Maverick gets closer to the noises, a mixture of panic and intrigue seeping through him when he realizes the door is cracked open. Just enough that when he reaches the frame, he sees you.

You’re laying on your side, a big body behind you, long strong legs and a sharp snap of hips meeting yours. An arm around your torso. A hand propping your leg up for easier thrusts, a blue Academy ring tauntingly sparkling at him.

And then his eyes catch the head of spiky blonde.

For fuck’s sake.

For a moment, Maverick is almost blinded with anger. His heart stoops down to his feet and all he can think of is betrayal. How sick you are for doing this to him.

You’d been fucking each other for weeks. Had made a comfortable situation out of it, and came to terms with the fact that it probably wouldn't last. But Maverick was sort of on top of the world right now, getting to fly with his best friend, competing for the Top Gun trophy, being the best possible pilot he could be up there. Taking his chance to prove himself once and for all. And Maverick is always all or nothing, and if he knew that this would backfire on him, then he’d shoved it to the deepest corner in the back of his mind and chose to go through with it anyway just for the fun of it. And now he’s paying the price, and the promises he made you don’t mean anything anymore. How could you? Yeah, yeah, you’re not together, you’re not in love, you’re certainly not chained to one another, but why?

Iceman of all people.

That’s gotta be a personal fucking vendetta you’ve got against him.

God, and he really did like you..? By the way..? No matter how many times he told himself he didn’t..? Fuck that. He does. He did. He decided the moment he stepped inside your house. And now all of it is fucking soiled.

He considers running out, slamming the front door for effect and mounting his Kawasaki and taking a long drive out of here. Giving you the silent treatment the next time he sees you. Maybe finally punching Iceman in the fucking face the second he hears that irritating voice sound out his name in the locker room, just before going on a tangent about aircraft safety and some other bullshit Maverick never pays attention to.

But he does not move.

And he realizes a little too late how entranced he is at the sight in front of him.

Maverick’s eyes roam, but they settle right at the junction between your legs. His lips part at the sight of Ice’s cock ramming into you. You’re so wet, he can see it pooling with every slippery thrust. The sound of skin on skin brings a heat to Maverick’s cheeks, his own cock twitching in his pants.

Your moans are loud and repetitive, cries of pleasure he’s heard many times before.

Iceman’s pace is relentless, quick and hard and perfect. Even in the shadows, Maverick is slightly intimidated.

Maverick doesn’t avert his eyes, lets out a stifled groan at the feel of his hardening cock in his tight jeans. It all worsens when he hears Ice moan, the sound prettier than he’d like to admit. It stirs the desire in him, flushes his entire body in heat. What he would do to be in Ice’s position right now, fucking into you like his life depended on it, sliding in and out of that tight, wet heat over and over. He knows how good you look; he can imagine how good Ice feels fucking into you like this.

As if on cue, “You like to watch, Mitchell?” that familiar voice sneers at Maverick from behind you.

Maverick flinches, unintentionally takes a step back, but it’s no use. Ice is hovering over the side of your body, angling his hips to find a better spot. He’s got a shit eating smile on his face, staring right at Maverick, and it’s then that Maverick realizes.

It wasn’t you. None of this was you. Did… did Iceman know? Did he leave the door open for Maverick to find? He fucking would. And Maverick would get angry again if he wasn’t so turned on out of his mind.

You continue moaning, in a hazy state of bliss, but your eyes flick over to the doorframe at the sound of Ice’s voice. Maverick stands there, watching with a fiery gaze.

“M—Maverick,” you cry out, an arm absentmindedly reaching out in his direction. Your brows furrowed together, you hope he realizes you’re inviting him in; that just the sight of him almost has you keeling over and letting go. You want him in the room, but he doesn’t budge, remains in the shadows of the hallway, so you moan out again, “Please.”

Ice chuckles behind you, giddy. You’re amazed at how composed he is, how his thrusts haven’t even begun to falter. You’re so close to your orgasm, but he seems to be doing fine still.

“P–Pete,” you gasp a third time, and then Ice hits a very sensitive spot inside you. “Oh, fuck, Ice!”

The heat of Ice’s body pressed to yours, his tight grip on your torso and the force of his thrusts are dizzying enough, but it’s even beyond that when the door creaks a little wider. Maverick hesitantly steps inside, though his eyes remain glued to you. Leaning against the wall right next to the door, he watches as Ice’s hand clasps around your breast, roughly kneading at it.

“Knew you liked to watch,” Ice remarks, but he’s not looking at Maverick anymore. His eyelids are lidded in pleasure, lips parted as he nears his own orgasm.

Maverick’s stomach flips at Ice’s words, but he doesn’t respond. He focuses on you and how high pitched your moans sound, knows very well that that’s an indication that you’re cumming soon.

“Ice,” you sob, your hand reaching for his and then clawing at the skin of it. “I’m gonna cum.”

Ice leans in to press his mouth to your ear, teeth lightly grazing the skin of it. “Cum for me, baby,” he rasps quietly.

Mouthing at your neck, Ice’s eyes flick over to Maverick again, whose gaze has gotten wider. His entire face is painted crimson, eyes roaming at the sight in front of him, wanting every detail of your incoming release. Are you gonna cum for Ice the way you do for him? Let out that gorgeous sounding moan, long and lengthy when you start to shake?

You do.

Maverick bites his lip at the sight and sound, has to palm at his cock through his jeans to ease the ache a bit.

He watches intently as it takes Ice too, his thrusts finally sloppy, his body going slack next to yours. Ice groans out loud against your skin, his grip around your body loosening.

The sensation breaks your haze, and you throw your head back against the mattress as it sinks in. Finally making eye contact with Maverick and his flushed face, you bite back a smile as you try to figure out how you’re gonna explain the situation to him. Maverick is wondering what he’s gonna do about his fucking hard on. Ice is just sliding out of you with a laugh.

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 2 years ago

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Romancing the Navy's Princess - Bob

Pairing: Bob / Fem!OC (Maya Kazansky-Mitchell)

Word Count: 2.1k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are +18 only. MINORS DNI!

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Sexual Content; One Night Stands; Light Angst; Background IceMav; Named OC (Maya), who is ADOPTED, No Reference to Physical Description/Appearance; Implications Along the Lines of the 'Bob Fucks' Agenda

Summary: Bob is not the type of guy to hook up with a random woman in his car. Maya something-or-other changes that streak. Except Maya something-or-other turns out to actually be Maya Kazansky-Mitchelli.

Bob was not usually one for a one-night stand. He was not one to chat up random women at bars and then hook up with them in the back of his car. He was not usually the type to even entertain the idea of doing anything like that.

But this night was different, for whatever reason.

Maybe it was because the Dagger Squad chose to go to a civilian bar rather than the Hard Deck. Maybe it was because he put in his contacts—even though he hated them—on a whim. Maybe it was because he was just a little bit touch-starved and desperate.

Or maybe it was simply her.

Maya.

Maya something-or-other.

He didn’t know her last name.

It didn’t come up when she accidentally spilled her drink on him. It didn’t come up when she stuttered and stammered as she tried to help him clean up afterwards. It didn’t come up after he told her to not worry about it and invited her to sit down and chat. And it didn’t come up when she asked him if he wanted to leave with her after talking for the better part of two hours.

And, well, that little detail seemed pretty irrelevant right now.

The windows were fogged up as Bob tried to catch his breath. Maya rested her head against his shoulder and he could feel her chest rise and fall as well. Trailing his hands up and down her side, Bob gave her hips a light squeeze that made Maya smile and press a kiss to his shoulder. And that only made Bob’s heart swell all the more.

“Did you finish?” Bob asked her quietly, causing Maya to send him a giddy smile as she bit her lip.

“Yeah, I did,” she assured him, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“You don’t have to try and protect my ego or anything,” Bob replied, causing Maya to sit up a bit.

“If I thought that telling you whether or not I finished would bruise your ego or something like that, I would have been left by now,” Maya told him honestly, trailing her fingers along his bare chest. “And I’m still here . . . so, do the math.”

“Okay,” Bob chuckled, rubbing her hips again.

He pressed a kiss to her chin that caused Maya to let out a breath of amusement. Leaning down, she cupped his cheeks and stole a few more kisses from Bob. And, well, Bob was certainly not complaining about any of it. Pulling back with a giggly grin, Maya stared down at Bob for a moment, simply taking in his presence for a moment.

“Would it be crazy if I said that we should do this again some time?” Maya asked softly, trailing her fingers down his arm.

Bob smiled and grabbed her hand with his own. Threading their fingers together, Bob pulled her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. Maya practically beamed at the simple affection and sat up a bit more.

“Not at all,” Bob agreed, trying to not sound too desperate to see her again. Even if he was. Holy hell, he was already hooked on this woman. “This weekend?”

“Saturday night?” Maya suggested in return.

“It’s a date,” Bob stated, causing Maya to smile bashfully.

“It’s a date,” she repeated quietly.

Leaning down, she pulled him in for another kiss. She tangled her hand in his hair and drew him closer. Bob happily reciprocated and let his hands wander all over again. Just when Bob was about to suggest another round, Maya’s phone started to buzz from a phone call.

Maya pulled back from the kiss and leaned over to check her phone. Bob pressed a set of kisses to her neck while she fumbled to find her phone, hoping to get her to refocus on him. But then Maya must have seen whoever was calling her because she cursed and pulled back entirely. Sitting up, she hurried to fix her clothes and hair while Bob sat there, a bit dumbfounded.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” Maya apologized, leaning over to give Bob a parting kiss. He was too stunned to properly return it. “But I’ll see you Saturday, right?”

“Yeah,” Bob trailed off as Maya slipped out of his car.

“Goodnight, Bob,” she called with a soft smile. “And sorry again.”

Bob sat dumbfounded, wondering how one phone call changed Maya’s demeanor so significantly in the span of about five seconds. He watched her hurry over and climb into her own car and drive off into the night. Sitting in his car alone for a moment, Bob slowly sat up.

He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, especially because every moment that he spent with Maya before she darted off felt like something out of a rom com. Phoenix did warn him about his tendency to fall hard and fast, but Maya reciprocated that. She was the one who suggested seeing each other again. Rubbing his face tiredly, Bob let out a groan.

This was why he didn’t do one-night stands. This was why he shouldn’t do one-night stands.

~~~~~

“What do you mean she just left?” Phoenix asked, openly frowning.

“One second we were making out and the next second she got some phone call and had to leave,” Bob sighed, tapping his pen anxiously.

“Did you see who the phone call was from?”

“No,” Bob muttered, trying to just focus on the paperwork in front of him. “And I already know what you’re going to say.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Phoenix replied somewhat defensively, though her expression gave it away.

“I’ll say it,” Hangman spoke up, walking over to Phoenix and Bob’s table. “It was probably her husband or her boyfriend.” Hangman clapped Bob on the shoulder, despite Bob’s rather dark look in his direction. “Congrats on becoming a side piece, Bob.”

“Fuck off, Hangman,” Phoenix snapped on Bob’s behalf.

“What? You were thinking it!”

“It could have been the babysitter,” Coyote added, wrapping an arm around Hangman’s shoulders. “Maybe she’s got kids and didn’t want to tell you about them.”

“That’s a good one,” Hangman agreed, high-fiving his wingman.

“Or maybe it was something else that has nothing to do with anything like that,” Fanboy suggested, trying to be supportive of Bob. Even if Fanboy was a little suspicious about the whole thing himself. “I mean, you knew her for only a couple of hours. Maybe it was just her roommate or something, who only calls in emergencies.”

“A roommate like a husband,” Hangman retorted, causing Bob to scowl.

“Bagman, you have five seconds—” Bob started to warn him.

“—Why the hell are you guys still here?” Payback called, walking into the room. “We’re supposed to be at Mav’s for dinner right now.”

“If you’re so concerned about that, why are you still here right now?” Fanboy asked his pilot, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re going to be late too.”

“Because I have to constantly check on you guys,” Payback sighed, sounding like a tired dad.

“Maverick texted you, didn’t he?” Phoenix deadpanned.

“Yeah, he did, so let’s go,” Payback announced, pointing at the door.

The six remaining Daggers headed out and started driving to the Kazansky-Mitchell house.

It wasn’t uncommon for the Dagger Squad to spend time up there. Maverick and Ice had a pool and a large kitchen that was always stocked with food now that Maverick was retired and Iceman was just working through the last few months of his contract before he would retire as well. And it was far larger than any of the apartments that the other Daggers lived in.

Bob sat in Phoenix’s passenger seat, a bit pouty, as Phoenix drove through the winding roads. He was severely annoyed after that whole conversation. Mostly because he had those thoughts himself already and now that he was convinced that he wasn’t crazy for thinking that, he was even more frustrated. And he was also annoyed because he didn’t think that he should be annoyed.

After all, wasn’t that what one-night stands were? Just sex and nothing else? Why did he have to get so fucking attached so quickly?

“Don’t let Hangman get in your head about it,” Phoenix told Bob softly. “He’s just an asshole.”

“But what if he’s right?” Bob sighed, holding his head in his hands. “What if that’s really the situation? What if I just helped someone cheat?”

“Even if that was the case, you didn’t know,” Phoenix insisted immediately, shooting Bob a look to take a breath. “And you don’t even know that’s the situation. Don’t jump to conclusions. Just take a breath and you can deal with it on Saturday.”

Bob simply let out a groan in response to Phoenix and hit his head against his head rest. Phoenix patted his shoulder with a simple ‘there-there’ kind of way that just caused Bob to sigh and sink into his seat further. Phoenix glanced up the road to see the Kazansky-Mitchell driveway only a few seconds up the remaining hill.

“Besides, we’re here. Just enjoy the good food.”

Bob pulled his hands away from his face and sat up a bit, trying to take a little bit of Phoenix’s advice. He should just focus on what was right in front of him and nothing else. And that was a great plan. Up until what was right in front of him was an oddly familiar car.

Maya’s car, to be more specific.

“Bob?” Phoenix called, confused and a little concerned about him.

“That’s her car,” Bob mumbled out.

“What?”

“That’s her car,” Bob stated more firmly, pointing at the vehicle. “That’s Maya’s car, Phoenix.”

“Bob, that’s a very common car,” Phoenix replied softly, trying to get him to focus.

“I swear that’s her car,” Bob insisted, turning to his best friend. “She had that college sticker on her car. I know that she did, Phoenix.”

“I believe you, Bob,” Phoenix assured him as she turned off her car. “But she’s probably not the only person to have that college sticker or that car. Especially in southern California.”

“Fine,” Bob sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “Maybe I’m just starting to see things.”

“Hey, you put yourself out there for the first time in a while. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Phoenix and Bob climbed out of Phoenix’s car and headed inside the Kazansky-Mitchell home. They were the last of the Daggers to arrive and moved to quickly join the rest outside on the back porch. Maverick was over by the grill, chatting with Fanboy and Payback. Ice was sitting down at the table, chatting with Hangman and Coyote.

“Hey, look who finally made it,” Fanboy called, causing Phoenix to scoff.

“You literally got here a minute ago.”

“Still counts!”

“How’s it going, Mav?” Bob asked, causing the older aviator to smile.

“Just starting up the grill. Drinks are inside and Rooster and my daughter are in the middle of bringing out the rest of the food,” Maverick explained, gesturing towards the house.

“Your daughter?” Phoenix inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, she moved back home for her new job. She’s staying with us until she finds an apartment,” Maverick replied with a proud smile.

“You have a daughter?” Bob questioned, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, we adopted her when she was a baby,” Maverick explained, turning to Bob with a softer smile. “She’s been living out on the East Coast for the last couple of years, so we haven’t gotten to see her that much lately. But now she’s home for a while.”

“Well, congrats, Mav,” Bob replied quietly, trying to not sweat through his shirt.

Maya’s car was in the driveway. She was living at home.

Things were starting to add up and Bob wasn’t liking the direction that they were heading in.

And, almost with comedic timing, the glass door to the house opened right behind Bob and Phoenix. Bob turned around and stared at Maya, who was chatting with Rooster as they carried out some sides and appetizers. And when Maya finally locked eyes with Bob, she froze as well.

“Phoenix, Bob, this is Ice and my daughter, Maya. Maya, this is Phoenix and Bob,” Maverick introduced, gesturing between them casually before going back to grilling.

“Hi,” Maya breathed out awkwardly.

“Hi,” Bob returned, just as painfully awkward.

She wasn’t Maya something-or-other anymore. She was Maya Kazansky-Mitchell. She was Ice and Mav’s daughter. She was the COMPACFLT’s daughter. She was his mentor’s daughter.

Now, this was why he shouldn’t have one-night stands.

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #robert bob floyd x oc #tgm fanfiction #tgm #top gun: maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun #bob top gun #robert floyd x oc #bob floyd x oc #bob x oc #top gun bob #bob floyd fic

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blazingstar29 · 1 year ago

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will be angrily writing aging icemav tonight because if i see one more forsaken video about queer aging and shit like “ew i don’t want to be an old butch” or “twink death” where the joke isn’t about growing up but about aging and looking older. and i’m calling out this rhetoric on lesbian tik tok right now that’s trying to phase out butch because the ‘need for it has passed’ and we’re in a ‘new generation where masc is just more popular’

(i’m getting side tracked but i’m not saying every lesbian has to be butch or masc but do not try to erase butch history or ‘phase it out’ when you never had a ring of keys moment)

we get to fucking look older. i don’t know how many fucking times i’ll have to say it but getting older is a fucking privillege to anyone, let alone minorities and people with mental health issues. i have seen countless fucking posts about people saying “i didn’t expect to see this age” and i’m proud of everyone of you who made it because when you are so certain that you won’t, and yet you do, that is a huge thing.

i’m just really bothered by videos of people getting the ‘ick’ about growing old, especially from the butch and masc lesbian community and it’s why people like cowboyjen are so important to see.

i did not grow up seeing older queer people. i remember being 14 and outed by my brother, told it was a phase and having no clue what my life was going to look like. i was planning on graduating high school, coming out to my family and just running away. that was my plan. i thought it through with extensive detail.

can we normalise being old and stop fearing age like it’s some kind of disease? because it really fucking sucks to see it.

#sorry i know there’s bigger issues right now but this does my fucking head in #rant #delete later

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psuedochakra · 17 days ago

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swing away

Rating: Teen

Summary: While Ice and Mav are away, the Daggers borrow their larger living room to watch movies. Signs has been chosen this time, and now they really need to know which among them would excel at saving the day.

Word Count: 1120

Status: complete!

Tags: canon divergence, background icemav, crack treated seriously, minor spoilers for signs (2001)

This was a silly little crack idea I had while I was watching Signs at work! I hope you enjoy

“Anybody could do it!”

⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️💦👽

“I think I could do it.”

“Fuck you. That's not my point. I'm saying I'd be the fastest.”

“No way. I played baseball in college. I can swing a bat.”

“Yeah intramural baseball!”

“Your mom's intramural!”

“Fuck you! My mother is a saint!”

“Saint of intramural!”

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“You don't make sense!”

“Just… let them get it out.”

“Get you out.”

Payback's whistle is shrill, but it disrupts the argument. Everyone else either winces or covers their ears.

“There's only one way to settle this,” he announces.

“Contest!” Fanboy cheers.

“Wait,” Rooster starts, “How's that gonna work?”

“We fill glasses with water and swing at them with a bat,” Hangman rolls his eyes, “Obviously. Ow!”

Phoenix pinches the back of his arm. Hangman scowls at her as he lightly massages the spot. Everyone starts discussing the contest. Rooster stares at the rest of the Daggers like they've collectively lost their minds.

“Guys, we can't break my uncles’ glasses,” Rooster explains, exasperated. “In their house? Everything would get ruined!”

They all look at each other like that hadn't been considered. Because it didn't even cross their minds.

“Well, what about plastic cups?” Coyote offers.

“The weight would be wrong,” Bob points out.

“The nicer plastic cups,” Omaha suggests.

Harvard adds, “We could do it outside.”

Halo brings up thrift store glasses. Which is a great idea because they also need a baseball bat. Rooster, again, relays his concern over water and broken glass getting everywhere. Harvard, again, brings up the backyard.

“We're not saying in the house, Rooster. What about the garage?” Coyote reasons.

Luckily, the garage is mostly empty. Mav's tools are in there, of course. Most of his bikes are at the hanger. Ice's old Chevrolet Camaro IROC is under a trap. Rooster concedes it will probably be okay. Some of the tool chests are on wheels and open.

The Daggers break into teams. Rooster, Hangman, Omaha, Fanboy and Halo stay at the house to reorganize the garage. Chests and benches are moved around to better replicate the movie shots. Fanboy directs them around. Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote go to get glasses and a couple of bats. Yale, Harvard, Fritz, and Payback are also on a glass run, but they're looking for tarps and towels too.

Finding enough glasses for everyone is the hardest part. Both teams cleared out two second hand stores worth of cups. Team Phoenix also hit up a dollar store for the fancy plastic glasses too. It takes a few hours, but they get the garage all set up. There's a mix of dollar store plastic and glass-glasses for everyone to try.

“So parameters?” Hangman asks, twirling one of the bats in his hands.

“Fastest?” Fanboy shrugs.

“Most glass broken in the least time?” Halo suggests.

“How long does Joaquin Phoenix do it?” Payback muses, looking to Fanboy for the answer.

“If he could go all night, I'd be happy,” Phoenix mumbles to Halo. The two women giggle.

“Unfortunately, ladies, he's pretty fast,” snickers Hangman.

“We don’t have a lot of glasses,” Bob says, “I’m thinking max time of 30 seconds for ten glasses.”

The rules are discussed. Not for very long, but they mull it over for at least five minutes. They draw straws to determine order. Fanboy, Halo, Coyote, Rooster, Fritz, Payback, Yale, Phoenix, Bob, Omaha, Hangman, and finally Harvard. There's five glasses and five hard plastic cups to smash (or knock over). The hitter leaves while everyone else resets, so nobody knows where the cups are until their time starts.

Rooster's still nervous about the whole thing by the time his turn comes around. Which honestly doesn't take long. Fanboy gets a bad start and exceeds the maximum time, Halo smashes every cup in 20 seconds, and Coyote only takes 28 seconds. He steps back in the garage, eyes closed. Phoenix counts him down from ten. She gets to “one, go” and he swings away. Rooster had played baseball in high school; he was even scouted. But the only thing on his mind back then was flying, so he turned the scouts down. Mentally, he counts the cups as he swings. He doesn’t think about how long it takes.

The last cup is one of the hard plastic ones. With a loud crack, he sends it flying. It crashes somewhere in the garage with a dull thump and soft shatter. Rooster’s eyes widen as he realizes what the cup collided with. The IROC. Rooster learned how to drive in that car (he was technically only 14 at the time, but Ice let him drive around an empty parking lot a few times). Iceman had that car for as long as Rooster could remember.

“Ooh! New record!” Hangman cheers.

As he’s talking, the garage door starts to roll up. Rooster drops the bat. The Daggers immediately quiet down.

“What the fuck!,” Mav exclaims, “I heard shouting from the end of the driveway and… What the fuck!”

“I uh,” Rooster blinks.

“We were doing uh,” Fanboy starts.

Payback picks it up, “You ever see Signs?”

“Joaquin Phoenix smashes a bunch of water glasses to injure aliens,” Harvard continues.

“Right, and we wanted to see which one of us would win,” Halo adds.

“She means do it the fastest,” Fritz clarifies.

Hangman tacks on, “The aliens, they don’t like water.”

Maverick looks at them like they’re all crazy. He stalks over to the car, glass crunching under his feet, and peers under the tarp. Mav inhales sharply through his teeth. Rooster winces.

“Side mirror is busted,” Mav tells them.

“I’m sorry,” Rooster sighs.

“Ice loves this stupid car.”

“I know. I’ll get it fixed, I swear!”

“Yeah, you will. What were you thinking, guys?”

The Daggers mumble their heartfelt apologies. Nobody can admit they weren’t thinking, because there was a whole plan. It was just stupid. Everyone starts cleaning. The garage is put back how it was. Maverick dismisses them all.

“Not you, Rooster,” he says.

Rooster freezes. They all stop, actually. Everyone’s looking at him.

“You’re grounded,” Mav sighs.

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Rooster processes what Maverick just said.

“You can’t ground me,” Rooster scoffs, “I’m 34!”

“Act like it next time,” Mav retorts, “Guest room, now.”

Snickers ripple through the rest of the Daggers. Rooster’s face flushes. He’s not entirely unconvinced Maverick won’t haul him into the house by his ear. Mav glares past Rooster. The squad silences immediately.

“The rest of you I’ll deal with Monday,” Maverick warns them.

More apologies are offered. Everyone’s quiet as they shuffle off. Phoenix gives Rooster a sympathetic look and mouths ‘sorry’ at him. He waves as she gets in Bob’s car.

#top gun #top gun fanfiction #fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #crack fic #top gun maverick #tgm #tgm fic #top gun maverick fanfiction

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decadentworld · 1 year ago

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Something funny for you to consider...

(18+)

I generated two 3D human models for Ice and Maverick on Blender, with body measures as close to their real ones as I could get them to be, and if they really end up being accurate, then Ice has to fully sit down on the floor to give Maverick head. Lol. Feel free to include that info in your fics

#Icemav #Minors do not interact #Nooo I didn’t pose them just for that purpose who do you think I am you are

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jessybarnes · 1 year ago

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DISCLAIMER: MY BLOG IS 18+ ONLY! NO MINORS! Please do not copy, repost, plagiarize, translate, adapt, or republish ANY of my work to other websites or platforms. I take great pride in my work, and I spend a lot of time creating them. The only websites I will be posting works on are Tumblr under the username jessybarnes and AO3 under the username j_snow_writes. I don't own any of the celebrities or characters that I write for. Please read all of the warnings on my works before proceeding.

Below you'll find my prompts for Kinktober 2023! They will become links once written 🥰

Reblog Divider by: @cafekitsune

Bondage: Lloyd Hansen - Bound

Breeding: Chris Evans

Collaring: Nomad!Steve Rogers

Deepthroating & Facesitting: Dean Winchester

Double Penetration In One Hole: Evanstan

Edgeplay: Sebastian Stan

Frottage: Stucky

Hate Sex: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes

Lactation: Beefy!Bucky Barnes

Mind Control: Loki Laufeyson

Orgasm Denial: James Hetfield

Panties and Lingerie: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Pegging: Dean Winchester

Praise Kink: Lars Ulrich

Rimming: Destiel

Sensory Deprivation: Natasha Romanoff

Sex Toys: Wanda Maximoff

Size Difference: Chris Hemsworth

Somnophilia: Bucky Barnes

Spanking: Ransom Drysdale

Temperature Play: IceMav

Threesome: Natasha x Reader x Bucky

Titfucking: Thor Odinson

Uniform: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky

Virginity: Aragorn

#j snow writes #kinktober 2023 masterlist #kinktober 2023 #kinktober2023

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year ago

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Spring, 2020 - North Island Naval Base

Chapter 5 Part 1 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: Two months. You've been back to work for just about two months now and it feels even more like you're under a microscope than before. It feels like all eyes are on you, all the time and you hate it. You hate more that you haven't seen Bradley even once since that day. Add to that the fact that you haven't been able to go home and the added pressures of possibly being court martialed and you just want this all to be done.

Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Angst. Flagrant disregard for protocols or Authority. Angst. Anguish.

This content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting tag-list requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story.

Warnings: Female!Reader

Word Count: 3056

A/N: Here’s Chapter 5 of YAMS! We're going to continue to see the far-reaching ripples of Hawk's actions. We're also going to get some cute Macheresin and IceMav because I couldn't help myself. As always, your reblogs and comments make me so happy! Feel free to drop me an ask if you want to chat about this chapter or any of my other works!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

Tinkerbell

It's been three months since Bradley Bradshaw's accident. You only had your medical leave to prepare yourself for what would unfold once you were back on base. It wasn't enough. You knew the rumors would be floating around, that there would be sharks in the chum infested water, waiting for you to show any sign of weakness, a single cut even, to attack. Hawk's interviews, exposes, and tell-alls exacerbated that. You hadn’t even parked before everyone was looking at you with curious eyes. Everyone seemed to want to know why you’d actually been out for so long and if Hawk was right or just full of shit. But your lips are sealed. Under orders from Admirals Bates, Simpson and Mitchell you couldn’t say a word.

The scrutiny is nothing like you’ve ever faced before and you hate every minute of it. The worst part seems to be how you no longer have any credibility as an AMDO. Your first day back on base, you’d been introduced to Commander Grayson. He’s in charge of your team while you’re under investigation. Everything you do is immediately automatically examined by him, and logically you know why. He’s brilliant - your team is under extremely competent leadership under him. Were it under other circumstances you would love to learn from and work with him. But right now, you hate it. The drone project? That’s out of your hands and right into his. The inspections and adjustments occurring on North Island? Those are out of your hands as well. All you’re trusted to do, it seems, is work on paperwork and avoid the chatter that seems to spring up every time you walk into a room.

But the worst part of it all is how you’ve been blocked from seeing Bradley at every turn. You know he’s awake. Admiral Mitchell had been kind enough to tell you as much, that first day you were back on base, something the bond between you had hinted to as well. But Commander Grayson dogs your every move while you’re on base, even going so far as to have lunch with you, while Jake and Javy dog your every move off base. You haven’t slept in your own bed once in those three months either. With the paparazzi still camping out on your front lawn, you’re still sleeping in Jake and Javy’s spare room.

You haven’t had the chance to see how Bradley’s doing at all, and it hurts. The ache in your chest that you’d felt when Bradley’s jet exploded still throbs dully under your skin. That particular pain hasn’t faded even a little. The only time it had was the one night you’d managed to slip out of Jake and Javy’s house under the cover of night and sneak away to the hospital. You’d sweet talked a nurse into letting you up into Bradley’s room by mentioning he was your soulmate and held one of his big hands between your own. That night was the first in which you felt your heart beating in its rhythm again. It had been so easy, to press kisses against his knuckles and pray that he’d be okay, that he’d wake up again. You’d spoken to him until your voice was gone and snuck out at dawn with an exhausted body but a mostly settled mind. That one night felt far too short. Even knowing that Bradley is okay isn't enough. A part of you isn't sure that your mind will be at ease until you speak to him.

Your worry for Bradley is one of the only things fueling you as you trudge through base one bright morning. It's not quite so hot just yet, and you'd normally be ecstatic, making plans to drive out of the city for some fun. But just because the weather is better doesn't mean that your mood is. And then you walk into the AMDO hangar to see Commander Grayson, Admirals Mitchell and Simpson as well as two people in full khakis with JAG insignias pinned to their shoulders and on their chests. They’re introduced to you as Commanders Marks and Greybank.

"Lieutenant Commander, if you'd come with us? We have a few questions about the incidents that happened right here on North Island." It's the female JAG Commander, Marks, who speaks to you first. Her expressionless face rivals Commander Grayson's as he stands at a textbook perfect parade rest with one eyebrow cocked behind her.

You half expect to be locked up in a tiny windowless room with hot lights shining into your face and mercilessly interrogated. But maybe you've been watching too many movies and tv shows recently. What you get instead is a conference room, one of the nice ones where visiting Admirals have their meetings. Through the broad windows, you can see planes taking off from the tarmac. But you feel rather like you have a spotlight shining down on you regardless.

"Tinkerbell?" Lieutenant Marks' voice takes you by surprise. "Can I call you, Tinkerbell?" At her surprisingly gentle question, you nod.

"Alright, then. Tinkerbell," She sips carefully on her coffee before straightening out the notebook and pen in front of her. "What happened this year in Hangar Three during your first AMDO inspection on base?"

You’re more than a little taken aback by the question, expecting all of the questions they have for you to be ones about Bradley’s accident and your collapse during it. It must show on your face as well, since you’re asked to sit and once you do so, are asked the question again. Your voice is nearly too quiet as you start relaying the events of that day, including as many details as you remember, noting how they have your paperwork from that day in front of them. They’re cross referencing everything you say with the accounts in the reports, and it surprises you to see they have more than just your reports in front of them. They have statements from the Dagger Squad, the Admirals and even members of the Top Gun class in front of them. If your theory is right, they seem to want little to do with you at all and instead want all of the information they can get on Hawk. You finally ask why after the recess they allow you for lunch.

“Commanders, if I could ask a question?” Your voice is hesitant. They’ve already taken far too many notes about Bradley’s accident and your own subsequent hospitalization. You’ve had to disclose your suspicions that you’re his soulmate as well. Things already don’t look good for you, but you just have to know.

“Why are you focusing so much on Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor’s movements and actions over the past few months?” The question spills out of you in a deluge of sound. Your ears feel like they’re ringing as the Commanders look at each other before looking at you.

“Lieutenant Commander,” Commander Greybank’s voice sounds incredibly gentle, “Tinkerbell. Did nobody tell you why we were here?”

“No.” You’re quiet, your eyes focused on the way your hands clutch at each other, the knuckles white from the force of your grip.

“We’re your defense team.” Your head jolts up fast, shock parting your lips in disbelief. "Admiral Simpson called us as a special favor."

Marks picks up where her co-counsel leaves off. "Admiral Simpson believes you're innocent. We have evidence of that as well. We have video footage of your hangar, showing exactly who was around Lieutenant Bradshaw's jet while it was supposed to be under repair. We have, of course, footage of the maintenance crew and footage of you, Lieutenants Seresin and Bradshaw early that morning. But we also have footage of Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor lurking about the jet. We have footage of him removing a part from the engines and walking away."

“I knew he didn’t like me, but why would he do that?” You’re reeling, your hands shaking as they drag the laptop forward so you can view the footage. Your chest aches as you try desperately to breathe despite the panic taking over your body.

“He nearly killed my soulmate.” You’re not sure if the Commanders hear you as tears drip down your cheeks. “He made me believe that I’d killed my soulmate.”

“How sure are you that Lieutenant Bradshaw is your soulmate?” It’s a question you should have expected, though it does give you pause.

You swallow harshly, trying to order your flurried thoughts. “I’ve had all my soulmarks fulfilled by him. We have five.” At the shocked look on Commander Marks’ face, you have to grin, the action grim and small. “I’m sure that all five point to him. But I’m even more sure that he doesn’t know, or if he suspects, has convinced himself of something different.”

“We can use this information, if you’d like, to build your defense. We’d keep it as a last resort in case Taylor or his counsel try to bring it up. Does anybody else know your suspicions?” Commander Greybank looks rather overprotective as he spits out Hawk’s last name like it’s poison.

“Yes, my best friend and his soulmate.” It doesn’t surprise you at all that they want Jake and Javy’s contact info. “And there’s a Doctor on base too? Their name should be in my medical file from when I collapsed. Admirals Simpson and Bates are aware as well.”

“And what about Admiral Mitchell?”

“I’m afraid I’m not sure if he’s aware or not. He wasn’t by my bedside when I collapsed, and I was put on medical leave immediately afterward.” You sip on your water, wetting your parched throat before continuing. “It is possible that either Admiral Simpson or Admiral Bates told Admiral Mitchell about my suspicions.”

“We’ll have to get in touch with Admiral Mitchell and his husband then.” You blink at the words. Since when is Admiral Mitchell married?

“Tink, there is going to be a lot of media attention surrounding this trial. Especially when the reporters come to know that you and Lieutenant Bradshaw are soulmates.” You’re well aware of that fact, sadly. “Is there someplace safe you can go when you’re not on base?”

“With Lieutenants Seresin and Machado. Reporters have been camped out on my front lawn since Taylor’s first interview.” The anger in the Commanders’ faces has you shrinking a little. “And nobody from the Navy has even offered to protect you?”

At your nod, they share a glance and then dismiss you for the day. Your mind is still reeling as you meet Jake and Javy at their pick-up truck a couple of hours later. They’re content to talk to each other and leave you to your brooding as you glance out of the window. In the reflections on the window, you can see Jake and Javy, the ease in how they act with each other. Their love reminds you of your parents, sitting in the backseat of your family’s station wagon as a small girl and witnessing how they were always together, no matter how difficult life was. It's been far too long since you've called home, you realize, aching suddenly for your mom's home cooking and to hear your dad's terrible jokes.

But you can't call home. Not yet. They don't need to know about the disaster that has been your soulmate search. Not now. And so long as this thing stays out of the national news, you have time to tell them. Time to find the words. But more than your parents you need to talk to Bradley Bradshaw. You need to apologize. You need to hug him close. You need to tell him how sorry you are for not telling him your suspicions before you nearly lost him.

Jake and Javy help you forget your worries, just a little bit once you're home. They make you smile and laugh as Jake whips up dinner and all three of you dig into the sumptuous meal with a glass of red nearby. But your mind keeps straying back to the question of you and Bradley Bradshaw, over and over again. You’re being a bad friend, you’re sure, and an even worse guest, but you can’t seem to get out of your own head.

You come back to yourself lying on the sofa with Jake wrapped around you.

“Hey Tinky-Tink. You back with us, pretty girl?” You nod robotically, your mind spinning but your voice locked up behind chains that you can’t seem to break even if you tried.

“What’s going on, pretty girl? You’re scaring us, sweetheart. We’re your family, aren’t we? Then how come you can’t tell us, tell me, what’s going on in your head?” You curl in closer, reveling in the heat of Jake’s embrace, in the knowledge that your brother, though not in blood, will always protect you.

When your mouth opens, long after Javy joins the two of you and settles on the floor by the sofa, it’s to ask a question you’ve never asked of your friends before.

“How did you know, Jake?” It’s a whisper, barely audible over the rustle of your clothing. “How did you know that Javy was your soulmate?”

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” Jake sounds bemused, even as he pulls you closer. “You know we met when we were 14 and 15.”

Javy’s baritone picks up the story where Jake leaves off. “Yeah, pretty girl. I was the new guy in class, the only one who looked different from all the others. And your boy here was the only one who introduced himself and asked for my name. Those are our marks, you know? His name, in that travesty of a chicken scratch that he calls handwriting on my thigh and my cursive over his heart.”

“You’re right, sweetheart. We found each other early. But we didn’t know what we’d found. Not so easily. Not at all.” The weight of past memories is in Javy’s every word.

“It was Texas in the early two-thousands. Homosexuality was accepted even less than it is today. What choice did we have but to be each other’s best friend? To be like the brother we’ve never had? We couldn’t get too close to each other. We could barely sit in class next to each other without getting harrassed.”

There’s an impotent rage building in Jake’s voice, rumbling in his chest as he continues speaking. “We’ve heard it all you know, sweetheart. All the invectives, the rage just because the universe decided we belonged together.”

“But,” You can almost feel Javy’s gently chiding tone as he covers Jake’s hand on your back with his own. “I wouldn’t change anything in the world. The minute we were at the Naval Academy, I felt like I could finally breathe. Jake was thriving, I was thriving. But we were still too hesitant to take the leap. My mama wouldn’t have cared so long as I was happy. But Jake’s parents.”

“My dad would’ve killed me himself if he knew.” You clutch at Jake tighter, your ears hearing the words but your mind unable to compute a world where you never met Jake. “So we kept hiding it. Ignoring the tug in our chests, pulling us to each other. We kept ignoring how we orbited around each other. I kept ignoring how a single word from Javy would make me light up from within, and how it hurt when I took a girl home.”

“I never would’ve stopped if it wasn’t for that disastrous date we went on, Tinky.” You have to chuckle as you remember, Javy’s words making you smile despite your swirling emotions.

It had been one of your first assignments after fully certifying as an AMDO. You were just an ensign and it was your first time in Mississippi. You’d been introduced to the aviator squadrons on base and Javy had taken your breath away, quite literally. He was hot, you remember thinking, and more telling, he never seemed to go home with any of the girls always swarming around khakis at the bars on base.

So you’d take a chance and asked him out for dinner. You’re not sure who had been more surprised, you or Javy, when he said yes to your stumbling, stuttered dinner invitation. But you remember how it had made your whole week. That had been at the beginning of your search for your soulmate, and well, Javy flew planes for a living, had brown hair (which was a stretch, since his hair is closer to obsidian than brown, you know), and dark-chocolate colored eyes. With nearly three of your soulmarks covered, what did you have to lose?

As it turns out, not a lot. There wasn’t any chemistry between you and Javy at all. He was easy on the eyes, and equally easy to have fun with, but there just wasn’t any spark between the two of you. And then there was the fact that he never shut up about Jake. You’d made it through the whole night before stopping him as he swooped down to kiss you goodnight and told him, “I don’t think this is going to work between us, Javy. There isn’t any electricity between the two of us. I like you, I do. I just think that the Jake you’ve been talking about? I think he might be who you really love.”

That had been the end of that. You’d opened the door a week later to Jake and Javy holding hands on your doorstep and subsequently been absorbed into their little family.

“Sweetheart, if you find that electricity, that spark with someone, then that’s the universe telling you who your soulmate is.” Javy sounds so in love, and you don’t even have to face him to know by his tone alone that he’s looking at Jake.

That’s when you break down, telling Jake and Javy your suspicions, fears and worries. When your mind finally quiets and your shoulders feel a bit lighter, you’re being held tight - this time, by Javy.

“It’s going to be alright, sweetheart. You’ll get the chance to talk to Bradshaw and get this all straightened out. He loves you, sweetheart. He was meant to love you. It’ll be alright.”

You wish with all your heart that Javy is right. You’re not sure you can handle it if he isn’t.

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