#pete mitchell smut

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Under Neon Lights

bob floyd x fem!aviator!reader

call sign: Whiskey

The bass was already hitting before they even got out of the Uber.

It thumped through the pavement, up their legs, like a second heartbeat under the streetlights. The whole squad piled out of the SUV, laughter spilling into the night. It was hot, humid, coastal air clinging to their skin, the kind that stuck to your clothes in all the right (and wrong) places.

Phoenix was the first out, pulling the door open with a grin. “If anyone leaves sober, I’m disowning you.”

Fanboy climbed out after her with a snort. “If I go missing, check the DJ booth.”

Payback pointed at him. “No, check the bar. That’s where your heart lives.”

Then came Bob—tall, quiet, awkward as hell in his fitted navy button-down and clean jeans, adjusting his glasses and scanning the building like he was about to walk into a mission briefing.

And then there was you—Whiskey—last one out.

You swung your legs out slow, like you knew every single person was already watching. Hair down. Lip gloss shimmering. Tight black dress that hugged your hips and stopped mid-thigh. Heels loud on the concrete as you stepped forward, eyes gleaming under the city lights.

Bob looked up at the sound of your heels and nearly forgot how to breathe.

Cyclone had approved a rare Friday night leave for all of you after a brutal round of training simulations, and you’d picked the club—a slightly off-the-radar, neon-lit spot downtown with just enough grime to feel cool and just enough glitter to feel dangerous.

The bouncer looked you all over—first with suspicion, then with a grin.

“Y’all Navy?” he asked, cocking his head.

Hangman clapped a hand to Bob’s shoulder and smirked. “You could say that.”

The velvet rope dropped.

Inside, the club pulsed—dim lights flickering pink, purple, gold. The bar to the left glowed like a spaceship, rows of bottles catching light as the bartenders moved like magicians. The dance floor was packed, hips grinding, drinks spilling, music vibrating through every surface. A full sensual hum of bass and breath and heat.

Phoenix whistled low. “Okay, okay. She doesn’t look like much outside, but she’s a whole mood in here.”

“Right?” you smirked, tugging her hand. “Come on. First round’s on me.”

Hangman muttered under his breath, “If this ends in a conga line, I’m out.”

The crew split naturally—Fanboy and Payback made a beeline for the bar to order drinks with way too much liquor and way too little class. Phoenix leaned into you, the two of you laughing as you started naming songs you wanted to hear. Your hips were already swaying before you made it to the bar. Music was your oxygen tonight.

Bob hovered by the edge of the group, a quiet current in a storm, eyes locked on you—how easily you moved, how alive you looked under colored lights, like you belonged in a music video or a fever dream.

“Whatcha drinkin’, Whiskey?” Phoenix yelled over the bass.

“Tequila and trouble,” you shot back with a wink.

Bob nearly choked on his own breath.

You turned toward him, as if you’d felt his eyes on you, and smiled softly. “You gonna stand there all night, Floyd, or are you gonna come get corrupted?”

His mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again.

“I—I’m coming,” he stammered.

Hangman barked a laugh. “Not yet, I hope.”

You tossed your head back laughing. “Down, cowboy.”

Everyone grabbed drinks, shots, cocktails, beers. Toasts clinked. Someone shouted something about “to bad decisions” and Fanboy tried to start a chant that flopped so hard you all had to pretend it never happened.

Then—the DJ shifted tracks.

You knew it within five seconds.

You shrieked, “PHOENIX—IT’S PINK PONY CLUB!”

“Oh shit!” Phoenix screamed, slamming her shot glass down.

And like that, you were gone. Glasses abandoned, drinks forgotten, you both grabbed each other’s hands and hit the dance floor. You were singing every word at full volume, twirling under the strobes, laughing so hard you nearly fell.

Phoenix shouted to Hangman as she danced past, “Try to keep up, Texas!”

“Not with you two!” he shouted back. “You’ve got main character syndrome!”

Back at the table, Bob watched it all unfold like a man possessed.

You in that dress. You lit up. You singing every line to a glitter-pop anthem like you wrote it yourself. You locking eyes with him mid-chorus, tongue poking out between your teeth, daring him without a word.

He took a long sip of his drink and thought, Heaven help me.

You were just getting started.

———

The lights dimmed just a little deeper.

The beat slowed down.

That soft, sensual guitar riff slid through the speakers like honey. The kind of sound that curled low in your spine and made you sway before you even realized you were moving. And when Romeo Santos whispered the first line, you turned around slowly like you already knew the next chapter of your night had just arrived.

Hangman clocked it instantly. “Oh no.”

You grinned, stalking toward him with the dangerous confidence of a woman who knew what she was doing.

“Oh yes,” you purred.

“Whiskey,” he warned. “I don’t know how to dance to this. This is like… forbidden fruit music.”

“Then consider this your crash course,” you said, grabbing him by the hand. “C’mon, cowboy. I’ll lead.”

“You always do,” he muttered under his breath.

You dragged him onto the dance floor just as Usher’s verse slid in, and he stood there stiffly for a second like he was preparing for a goddamn duel.

“Relax,” you said, stepping in close—closer than close. Your palm landed gently on his shoulder, guiding him. “It’s just three steps. And hips. Always the hips.”

“I have hips,” he said, sounding personally offended.

“Prove it.”

You swayed.

He followed, stiff as a board, and you burst into laughter. “Oh my God, you move like a tax form.”

“Ma’am, this is harassment.”

“This is bachata,” you said, “and you’re doing it with me, so shut up and move your hips.”

Slowly, painfully, he started to get it. You led with subtle, practiced rhythm, rolling your hips just enough to make it dangerous. The beat was slow, romantic, every movement a suggestion instead of a shout. Your hands moved—up his arm, across his shoulder, back down again, always in time with the music.

And then you flipped it—your back to him, his hand on your hip.

He audibly swallowed.

“This feels illegal,” he whispered into your ear.

“Only if you’re doing it right,” you murmured, rocking your hips back into him.

Hangman froze. Fully froze.

You laughed and reached back to grab his hand. “Don’t lock up on me, Texas. Move with me.”

By the time the chorus hit, he’d stopped thinking. You had him—completely in your rhythm, moving like his bones belonged to you. A hand on your hip, the other brushing your arm, breath hot at your neck. He kept messing up the steps, but you didn’t care. He was trying. And he was sweating.

You leaned in and whispered, “You’re a little heavy on the lead, Lieutenant.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m not used to dancing like this.”

“No one is. That’s why it works.”

And God, it worked.

By the time the song faded out, Hangman looked like he’d just run a marathon. His hair was sticking to his forehead. His eyes were wide. You turned around slowly, chest to chest, face inches from his, and grinned.

“Well?”

Hangman didn’t answer right away.

He just staggered off the dance floor, shoulders loose, lips parted, breathing like he needed a defibrillator. He got halfway back to the table where Bob, Payback, and Fanboy were watching with drinks in hand before he turned back and said—

“What the fuck? I’m never dancing bachata again. It was too much.”

Fanboy spit beer.

Payback howled.

Bob? Bob looked like he was experiencing a medical event.

Because the whole time Hangman had been struggling through that dance, Bob had been picturing himself in his place—your hips, your hands, your laugh, all pressed against someone else. And now that image was seared into his skull.

And the worst part? You looked even hotter walking off that dance floor, flushed and smiling, dress clinging to every curve like it had something to say.

Bob downed half his drink and prayed.

Hangman had barely recovered from his bachata-induced near-death experience when the speakers shifted again—this time, snapping into a sharp, punchy beat that practically demanded a comeback.

Phoenix grinned.

You turned to her like you were psychic.

“Oh hell yes,” you both said at the same time.

“New Rules.”

“I’ll get us shots,” Payback offered quickly, fully aware of what was about to happen.

Fanboy was already screaming. “OH THEY’RE ABOUT TO GET STUPID WITH IT—SOMEBODY GET A CAMERA.”

You didn’t even look back. You and Phoenix locked eyes, nodded like it was a military maneuver, and hit the floor hard—boots stomping, hips snapping, hair flying. It wasn’t sexy the way Promise had been. This was commanding. Sharp. Confident. Bitchy in the best way.

You knew every lyric.

So did she.

And together? Y’all were untouchable.

“I got new rules, I count ‘em—

One, don’t pick up the phone—”

You pointed at each other like backup dancers in formation. Phoenix spun, hair whipping around her shoulders as she mouthed every word. You dropped into a low shimmy, one hand dragging slowly down your body like a slow clap for your own damn self. The people around you started cheering.

Even the DJ hyped it.

Bob watched with his jaw slack, eyes laser-focused on you like you were some kind of divine punishment sent from heaven to wreck his life in real time.

Because God help him, when you danced like this—with that much joy, that much power, like the entire damn club was your personal runway—he couldn’t even breathe.

Fanboy leaned over. “She’s doing that on purpose.”

“I know,” Bob said quietly.

“She’s killing you.”

“I know.”

Payback slid in next to him. “This is like watching someone flirt by stepping on your throat.”

“I KNOW.”

You grabbed Phoenix’s hand and spun her under your arm like y’all were in a music video, then bumped hips dramatically as you shouted the chorus together—

“I gotta tell them to myself—

DON’T GET UNDER HIM!!”

You were laughing, singing, stomping, alive, and it was contagious. A group of girls joined you on the floor. Even a couple of guys followed your lead. It was a damn movement. You and Phoenix were at the center of it—two fighter pilots fully locked into your off-duty, out-of-uniform, hot girl night out energy.

The song ended in chaos.

Screaming. Clapping. One random girl hugged you and Phoenix like y’all had just saved her from her ex.

You stumbled back to the table, glowing and breathless, and collapsed onto the seat next to Bob.

“You good?” you asked, winking.

He didn’t answer at first. Just blinked slowly like someone rebooting after a blackout.

“…Fine.”

Your smirk turned dangerous.

“You sure? You look a little flushed.”

He was going to combust.

But before he could answer, the DJ clicked something low and filthy into the speakers.

The lights in the club shifted.

Dimmed low.

Tinted red.

Velvet and sin.

And then—

“You make it look like it’s magic…”

You froze mid-laugh.

Phoenix clutched your forearm with a gasp. “Oh my god.”

You looked at her.

She looked at you.

Fanboy looked between you both and whispered, “Uh oh.”

“Cause I see nobody, nobody but you…”

Phoenix started shaking your arm. “Please.”

“No.”

“Please, I’m begging.”

You were already smiling. “Phoenix—”

“Whiskey,” she said in full government tone. “Give me this.”

Bob’s mouth was dry.

Payback was suddenly on the edge of his seat. “Wait, wait, wait, is this happening—”

Phoenix stood and shouted, hands cupped around her mouth:

“ONE SOLO. THAT’S ALL I’M ASKING.”

People nearby turned. The group of girls who danced with you earlier screamed like they’d been waiting for this exact moment their whole lives.

You sipped your drink with faux innocence and turned toward Bob, voice sweet:

“You mind?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“Phoenix wants a show.”

Bob opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Swallowed hard.

Phoenix shoved your drink out of your hand and dragged you to your feet before you could change your mind.

“You’re a menace,” you hissed at her as she pulled you to the middle of the floor.

“And you’re the main character,” she said proudly. “Go ruin someone’s life.”

“Girl you’re perfect… you’re always worth it…”

You started slow.

Hips swaying, back turned to the table. Hands sliding down the curves of your body like you were setting a fire only you could survive. You danced like honey off the comb—sweet, sensual, dangerous if taken too fast.

Bob was not breathing.

You turned your head just enough to catch him watching.

Frozen. Blushing. Swallowing hard.

“You earned it…”

Your hands lifted above your head. Eyes half-lidded, a little smile playing at your lips. You moved like the song had seeped under your skin—like temptation given form. Your fingers traced a lazy line down your neck, chest, hips. Every movement deliberate. Languid. Intimate.

The room around you blurred.

It wasn’t about the crowd.

It was about him.

And he knew it.

“On that lonely night…”

You turned toward him fully. Walked.

The crowd parted instinctively. Even Phoenix stepped back like she knew something sacred was about to go down.

Bob’s eyes widened as you sauntered closer.

You stopped right in front of him.

Bent just enough to whisper in his ear—

“I like when you look at me like that.”

He made a quiet, strangled sound that did things to your spine.

You pulled back, smirking.

Straightened.

Walked away before you could see his soul leave his body.

Phoenix screamed, “WHISKEY!!” and collapsed into the booth like she’d been tackled.

Payback stood up and fanned himself with a napkin.

Fanboy fell off the couch.

Bob hadn’t blinked in two full minutes.

You slid back into your seat like nothing happened.

Picked up your drink.

Took a sip.

Bob still hadn’t moved.

You leaned toward him and purred, “You doing okay, Lieutenant?”

His hand gripped the edge of the table like he was trying not to levitate.

“…Fine.”

———

The DJ fades into the next track — Neighbors Know My Name — and the booth erupts.

Phoenix throws her head back laughing. “Oh hell yes!” she yells, pounding the table like a judge handing down a sentence. “WHISKEY, PERFORMANCE. NOW.”

Fanboy nearly chokes on his drink. “This is not a drill—this is the horny Hunger Games!”

You stand without a word, just smirking, already moving toward Bob with purpose.

He’s stiff in the booth, hands gripping the edge like he’s bracing for impact.

You straddle him.

Dead silence at the table. Payback whispers, “He’s not surviving this.”

The first lyric hits:

“Soon as we get started making love, goin’ hard I hear a…

(Knock knock) knock knock, knock on the wall.”

Your hips roll against him, slow and controlled, dragging your hands up his chest like you’re carving your name into him.

Bob’s head drops back, a sharp exhale punching out of him.

“And as soon as I go deep, gettin’ it in then again

There goes the (knock knock) knock knock, knock on the wall.”

You mouth the words right in his ear, breath hot, your fingers threading through his hair while your hips grind a slow, relentless rhythm against him.

Bob groans — loud.

The table reacts like a sports bar watching a Hail Mary pass.

Fanboy stands and shouts, “REF! I’M CALLING A TIMEOUT! SHE’S KILLING HIM!”

Phoenix is doubled over, pounding the table again. “SHE’S LITERALLY ENDING HIS BLOODLINE.”

“Bet the neighbors know my name, They be stressin’ while we sexin’”

You whisper the line, and Bob shudders.

You lean back, still on him, your hands on your thighs now, chest heaving as you move to the music like you were born for this exact moment.

“Girl the love we make, gone keep banging on the wall”

Phoenix throws a fry at Fanboy. “Put your tongue back in your mouth.”

“I CAN’T,” Fanboy yells. “I THINK I SAW HEAVEN.”

Bob grabs your waist now — tightly — and for a second, his lips almost crash into yours.

But you pull back, teasing, smirking. “You haven’t earned that yet.”

The table groans in sync.

Payback: “Okay but like… I’m a little in love with her too now.”

———

You hear the beat first — a deep dembow, hips-first kind of rhythm — and immediately your whole posture changes. The sway in your walk turns hypnotic. You’re not teasing anymore.

You’re showing off now.

Fanboy sees your face and literally gasps. “Oh no. Oh no. I know that look. That’s a heritage unlock.”

Payback holds up a napkin like a white flag. “I surrender. I can’t handle what’s coming.”

Phoenix leans back like she’s watching the climax of a telenovela. “Y’all. Watch this.”

You turn to Bob, lifting a single brow. “Can you keep up?”

He swallows. “I can try.”

You pull him to his feet like he’s being summoned by a goddess. The music crashes in fully — the percussion pounding, the lyrics fast, raw, spicy. You don’t just dance to this.

You embody it.

You roll your hips, fast and tight, your hands sliding along your waist as you move like you were born in the music. Bob’s behind you now — both of you dancing together, the heat between your bodies blazing.

The lyrics fly:

“Tú me pones mal, baby, con ese cuerpo criminal…”

You drop it low. He stutters. You throw your arm back and wrap it around his neck, winding your hips against him.

Bob’s jaw is clenched, knuckles white on your waist.

Fanboy is straight-up praying at the table. “Santa María, Madre de Dios—”

Phoenix smacks him. “SHUT UP AND LET HER COOK.”

You spin in Bob’s arms and let the beat take you — chest to chest, lips inches apart, and then…

You mouth the next lyric right at his lips, eyes dark, heat dripping from every syllable:

“Tú y yo no somos santos… pero eso es lo que me encanta.”

The tension’s nuclear now. His hands are everywhere — waist, hips, back — like he doesn’t know where to touch first, but he knows he can’t stop.

You’re a whole storm in a black dress.

And he’s drowning beautifully.

———

The lights dim just slightly. A familiar guitar riff slides into the speakers.

The gasps are immediate.

The beginning of “Ella y Yo” echoes through the club.

Phoenix goes, “No—NO. Don’t even think about it.”

You and Fanboy rise in sync from your chairs like you’ve rehearsed this for Broadway.

Whiskey’s jaw is tight, eyes narrowed.

Fanboy’s shaking his head, already pacing in a circle like he’s about to defend himself in court.

The squad? Losing it. Payback has tears forming already.

WHISKEY (storming forward, intense):

“Y te repito, lucha por amor…”

FANBOY (pointing a finger, defensive):

“No me aconsejes en tu posición.”

WHISKEY (mocking):

“Quizás su marido no mande en su corazón.”

FANBOY (louder now):

“No sabes quién es víctima en esta confusión!”

WHISKEY (arms flung wide, voice breaking):

“¡No seas tan tonto, lucha por amor!”

FANBOY (pacing in a full circle):

“No, no me aconsejes en tu posición.”

WHISKEY:

“Quizás ese tipo no mande en su corazón.”

FANBOY (stepping in close):

“Tú no sabes quién es víctima en esta confusión.”

You both pause.

The beat swells.

And then—

⸻

FANBOY (quiet, almost regretful):

“Amigo pido perdón, yo nunca te fallé…”

He grips an imaginary rosary as he continues:

“Me traicionaron las ganas de volverla a ver…”

WHISKEY is glaring, pacing behind him like a betrayed lover.

FANBOY (emotional):

“Y aunque todavía no puedo creer… lo que este amargo encuentro me hizo comprender…”

He turns to you with raw pain in his voice:

“Pues tú también llegaste a ese lugar…”

“Donde tantas veces yo la fui a buscar…”

Phoenix screams, “OH MY GODDDD!”

FANBOY (fully yelling now):

“Y aunque no es fácil lo que voy a hacer…”

“Admitiré que salí con tu mujer.”

⸻

WHISKEY (eyes wide):

“…¿QUÉ?!”

TOGETHER:

“Salí con tu mujer!

Salí con tu mujer!

Salí con tu mujer!”

The dance floor erupts. People are clapping, hooting, and a couple of strangers even join the dramatics like it’s a flash mob.

WHISKEY (gritted teeth, biting out every word):

“Que te perdone Dios, yo no lo voy a hacer…”

“Los perdí a los dos y a la misma vez…”

She spins, grabbing a beer bottle off the table like it’s a fake Oscar trophy.

“Ya veo que todo era mentira cuando ella me decía…”

“Que se iba pa’ Puerto Rico a vacaciones con su amiga…”

Fanboy winces.

Payback is curled in a ball, laughing.

“Me mintió, tú y ella en una cama, allá en Bayamón…”

“Quizás en Isla Verde o Carolina, ¡cuántos hoteles ensució!”

WHISKEY (pointing directly in Fanboy’s face):

“TÚ TAMBIÉN. LOS ODIO A LOS DOS!”

⸻

FANBOY (suddenly soft):

“(No me entiendes…)”

He clutches his chest.

“Que yo, soy quien más sufro con todo esto…”

“Me mata el dolor…”

“Fue una traición…”

“Perdí un amigo por la tentación…”

“…Perdón.”

He lowers his eyes and breathes the last word like a dagger:

“…Adiós.”

⸻

Silence.

Phoenix chokes on her drink.

The table is dead quiet.

The lights pulse purple, pink, and gold. The air’s thick with sweat, laughter, and the scent of overpriced tequila. Phones are still out, people still hollering from the last performance—“¡Eso fue una novela, carajo!”

But the DJ—cheeky bastard that he is—knows exactly what to do next.

The club falls silent for half a beat.

Then:

🎶 “Si te invito a una copa y me acerco a tu boca…” 🎶

The first strum of Romeo Santos’ “Propuesta Indecente” slides over the speakers like silk.

Whiskey gasps. Fanboy’s already backing up, laughing.

“No. Nooo. We just got out of a scandal—”

Too late. She grabs his wrist and drags him back to the floor, hips already rolling with the beat, that devilish grin on her lips.

WHISKEY (singing, seductive, almost whispering):

“Si te invito a una copa y me acerco a tu boca…”

“Si te robo un besito, a ver, ¿te enojas conmigo?”

Fanboy groans—playfully tortured. “You’re going to get me killed.”

FANBOY (singing, overly dramatic):

“¿Qué dirías si esta noche te seduzco en mi coche…”

“Que se empañen los vidrios y la regla es que goces?”

Their hips are already locked. Whiskey’s hands slide slowly up Fanboy’s chest. She spins, her back to him again, grinding low—

WHISKEY (teasing, turning her head over her shoulder):

“Si te falto el respeto y luego culpo al alcohol…”

“Si levanto tu falda, ¿me darías el derecho…”

FANBOY:

“…A medir tu sensatez?”

“Poner en juego tu cuerpo…”

“Si te parece prudente…”

BOTH (in sync, sultry as hell):

“Esta propuesta indecente…”

Phoenix SCREAMS and nearly knocks over her drink. Payback falls out of his seat. Even Bob chokes, eyes locked on Whiskey as her body moves like the music is built into her bones.

🎶 “Permíteme apreciar tu desnudez… (take it off)”

“Relájate…”

“Que este Martini calmará tu timidez…” (don’t be shy) 🎶

Whiskey whispers the words as she drapes herself over Fanboy, her hands slipping into his hair. He plays along, leaning into it—committed to the bit like a true drama kid.

WHISKEY (in his ear, breath hot):

“Y una aventura es más divertida…”

“Si huele a peligro…”

FANBOY (responding, grinning wide):

“Si te invito a una copa y me acerco a tu boca…”

“Si te robo un besito, a ver, ¿te enojas conmigo?”

WHISKEY (face inches from his):

“¿Qué dirías si esta noche te seduzco en mi coche?”

“Que se empañen los vidrios y la regla es que goces…”

They sway. They grind. They turn the dance floor into satin sin. People are filming. Couples are making out in the shadows. The vibe is unholy and unstoppable.

🎶 “I’m back…”

“It feels good to be king…”

“Gostoso…”

“Hey…”

“Listen, I know what you like…” 🎶

Fanboy raises a brow. “This you?”

WHISKEY (mock-serious, with a wink):

“How ‘bout if you and I, me and you—bailamos bachata…”

She pulls him into another spin, now dragging the front of his shirt toward her.

WHISKEY (singing):

“¿Terminamo’ en la cama?”

(She grins, mouthing: “que rico.”)

FANBOY:

“How ‘bout if you and I, me and you…”

“¿Bailamos bachata?”

She lets him spin her out, then drags herself back into him, hips never stopping.

BOTH (loud, laughing, drenched in sweat):

“¿Terminamos en la cama?”

And they do it again. And again. And again. Until the whole club is either chanting along or begging them to get a room.

———

The bass drops like a body in the dark.

Whiskey turns slowly on her heel, drink in hand.  the second she hears the track change—

She grins.

🎶 “Come and ride on me like the waves…”

Bob looks up from the table. She’s already walking toward him.

🎶 “I flip the pages ’cause I wrote the book on the way…”

“Whiskey,” he starts—warning? prayer? plea?—but she’s climbing right into his lap before he can finish the word.

One knee on each side. Body flush against his. Hands resting on his shoulders like she owns the air around him.

🎶 “How to sex you up, sex you up…”

She rolls her hips once, slow enough to be dangerous. His hands fly to her waist like instinct.

🎶 “We can do it like I’m on the stage, we’ll have an audience…”

He’s not breathing.

She mouths it against his ear—

“Baby, I’ll show you the way that I sex you up…”

He groans so softly it’s almost a whimper.

She leans in, soft and close enough to kiss—but doesn’t.

Instead, she whispers, “I’m not done with you yet.”

🎶 “Baby, just stay comfortable / I want you as you are…”

Bob swallows hard. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it.”

🎶 “Let’s not get emotional / Let’s be who we are…”

She smiles sweetly. “Then don’t.”

🎶 “Keep your eyes closed ’til I roll through…”

Her hips roll again—lazy, slow, torturous.

🎶 “Somebody splittin’ your knees / Don’t worry, that’s me…”

Phoenix, Fanboy, Payback—they’re all frozen, pretending to drink or talk, pretending not to watch a public meltdown happen in real time.

Bob’s flushed. Breathing hard. Wholly undone.

🎶 “Baby, you ain’t gotta tell me what you want…”

———

The song winds down—

Usher’s last moaned lyric disappearing into the thud of the next beat. Bob looks wrecked. Flushed. Eyes heavy. Still gripping the edge of his seat like it’s the only thing tethering him to the floor.

Whiskey leans in one last time, her nose brushing his jaw, lips warm with tequila and trouble.

“Be right back,” she hums.

And just like that, she’s sliding off his lap—slowly, cruelly, like she knows exactly what kind of hell she’s leaving him in—and saunters off toward the bar.

Phoenix exhales hard. Fanboy whispers, “She did all that on a remix. God help us if the DJ ever plays ‘Wicked Games.’”

Bob’s hands are still in his lap. Fists clenched. He watches Whiskey disappear into the crowd, hips swaying with the same rhythm she used to ruin him.

He stands up.

The bartender is wiping down the counter when Whiskey slides into the empty space. She taps twice on the counter. “One more of whatever that cherry cinnamon thing was—”

“Whiskey.”

She turns.

Bob’s behind her. Eyes still dark, voice rougher than she’s ever heard it. He steps close—too close. One arm on the bar next to her, the other on her waist like he can’t stop himself anymore.

“Uh… you kinda need to stop,” Bob says, voice a little breathless, like he’s trying to keep it together but failing.

Whiskey blinks, surprised. “Wait. Did I just embarrass you?”

He scrambles for words, cheeks burning hotter. “Yeah. Kind of. But… not exactly the way you’d expect.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Whiskey says softly, the teasing edge melting away as guilt colors her tone. She bites her lip, suddenly aware of the heat radiating between them.

Then, almost without thinking, Bob reaches out, capturing her hand and sliding it down—right to where his body tells a very different story than his shy words.

Whiskey freezes, wide-eyed. Her breath catches, heart skipping. “Oh. OH!” she says, voice hushed but daring. “Well… do you want to go home and fix that?”

Bob’s eyes darken with something playful and a little dangerous. “Nope,” he says, lips curling into a smirk. “I think I wanna suffer a little more.”

Whiskey grins, the kind of wicked smile that promises trouble. “Kinky,” she purrs.

The bar noise melts away around them. For a moment, it’s just the two of them—caught between fire and ice, and neither willing to back down.

[blue-sadie]

Cockpit

Imagine:

Flying with maverick and landing at an abandoned airstrip and finding yourself with your legs on either side of him as he sat back watching you ride him, his hands wondering over every part of you leaving no spot untouched, his eyes filled with desire and determination to making you feel good.

"that's it ride me, ride me like the good little Birdy that you are fuck you are so amazing I can't wait to fill you up with my cum and just make you feel so good"

[multifandomworldsposts]

what about Maverick coming home after a stressful day and ordering you to ride his thigh for kinkmas? yk he's still dressed while you're just in his shirt and maybe he even calls you over with like this hand gesture.... it makes me weak every time shahahahq love ur work ❤️

Day 4 of Kinkmas: Giving Maverick Pleasure

KINKMAS ❤️🪩

A/N: thank you for the comment at the end of the submission 🥰✨❤️

pairing: pete mitchell x fem!reader

warning: age gap, dry humping, hickeys, blow jobs, riding

Y/N’s POV

I’m cooking some dinner for Pete and I, I’m wearing a new lingerie but I’m covering it with one of his t-shirts. I hear the door open and it slams shut, I already know he had a bad day, he’s done this before.

“Fuck!” Pete groans.

I flinch. I walk in the living room and I can tell he looks stressed.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Oh, I’m sorry that I yelled.” He tries to calm himself down.

“What happened?” I get closer towards him.

“Two of my students got in a fight and things went downhill.” He says taking his jacket off.

“Who were they?” I say standing in front of him.

“Hangman and Rooster.” He says.

He’s told me about Rooster a few times, he knew his dad when we was younger.

“How can I help you with your stress Mav?” I massage his shoulders.

He gives me a thinking face and he notices my lingerie.

“Is this new?” He lifts his shirt to see the lingerie.

“I bought it last week.” I say.

“It looks good on you.” He smirks.

“Do you want me to do anything?” I ask again.

Pete walks to the couch and sat down, I walk to him to be in front of him.

“How about you, dry hump my thigh.” He says relaxing on the couch.

“That’ll help your stress?” I cross my arms.

“Why not?” He smirks.

I take a deep breath and take his shirt off to show him my new lingerie.

“You love it?” I look at my set.

“I do, but I prefer it on the floor.” He smirks.

I find the zipper on the back of the set and unzip it and let it fall on the ground, Pete gets more comfortable on the couch. I walk towards him slowly and straddle him, I dry hump his thigh. He moans and guides me. I start to kiss his neck and began to give him hickeys.

“This is a new you I’ve never seen before Y/N/N.” Pete whispers in my ear.

“Just want to give daddy he wants when he’s stressed.” I whisper back.

“I don’t think I’m stressed anymore.” He says smiling at me.

“Let me do something else to you.” I pout.

“Show me baby.”

I get on my knees and unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. His cock looks hard already so I begin to suck it. I can hear him groan and I feel his hand tugging on my hair.

Pete makes me look at him and says, “I need you on my cock when I cum.” He says in a deep voice.

I set myself on his dick and rode it. He held me into place and I gasp, he got bigger than the last time we did this. He begins to give me hickeys all over my neck. I tug on his hair which made him moan in my neck and I giggle.

After for a while, we get on the ground and make love on the carpet. I hope this happens all the time when he’s stressed.

“Pete, are you not stressed anymore?” I question getting his hair out of his face.

“Not anymore Y/N/N.” He smiles.

“If you want, if you’re stressed out in the future, we can do this if you want?” I say.

“I’d like that.” He smirks.

“I love you Maverick.” I give him a peck.

“I love you too princess.” He gives me a peck.

[topgun-imagines]

Day 14: I Remember Everything

Pairings: Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x fem!reader

Synopsis: Both you and Maverick are struggling with the loss of Goose. Based on the Zach Bryan And Kacey Musgraves song ‘I Remember Everything’.

Warnings: Alcoholism, death, tears, bad coping mechanisms, break-ups & feeling of abandonment.

Word count: 1.2k

Ever since your boys went off to Top Gun, you couldn’t wait to see them. So, when family week rolled around, you, along with Carole and Bradley, boarded the plane together. Carole was ecstatic to have her sister-in-law joining her on the flight. It gave her someone to watch Bradley while she snuck in a few hours of shut-eye. You couldn’t wait to see your big brother. However, Goose wasn’t the only one you were excited to see. For the past three years, you and Maverick had been dating.

Throughout their time in Fighter Town, you had heard all about your boyfriend’s rivalry with Iceman. You remembered him from Goose’s time at the academy. You found that he was a lovely person. So lovely, in fact, that you went out with him for the entire time Goose was at the academy. You wouldn’t put his competitive side past him. Even if Maverick was stretching the truth just a little bit. You never imagined that the competition between them would escalate to where it was now. As far as you had been told, it was a healthy, safe competition. Now, however, you wanted to smack both Iceman and your boyfriend upside the head.

Your older brother was the most important person in your life. He had practically raised you. You could vividly remember crying for weeks when he left home for the academy. When Maverick and Goose had first been paired together, you had sat the rebellious pilot down and told him that while Goose trusted him, you weren’t so convinced. In that moment, Maverick promised you that your brother would always return safely to his family. Three months later, Mav took you out on your first date.

Maverick had quickly gained your trust. You soon came to learn that you and your brother were the only family that he had. That only helped to prove the fact that Maverick would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat for either of you. For that, you were immensely grateful.

Given their job, you understood that there was a large risk factor. However, you knew how good of a pilot your boyfriend was. If he had any control over the situation, everything would turn out okay. Even though you trusted him, you knew that sometimes, he didn’t trust himself. When he was up in the air, it was like he was flying against a ghost. You knew exactly whose ghost that was.

Mav had always thought that he was a disappointment, purely because he was his father's son. He had always been told that he would never amount to anything, all because of his last name. You saw how hard he worked to prove them wrong. That was one of the things you loved about him. No matter how many times he got pushed down, he always got back up.

This time, however, was shaping up to be very different than the others. This time, there was no going back.

Before they left for Top Gun, you had told Maverick about your ex. After all, you were pretty sure that he would be there as well. Oh, how right you were. It was just your luck that the two of them would end up going head-to-head for first place. At the beginning, you were thrilled with the idea of Mav and Goose getting to go to Top Gun. Now, you would give anything to keep them from ever getting a chance.

Only a few days after you had arrived for family week, there was a tragic accident. Maverick and Ice were tied for first and you knew that both of them would do whatever they could to win. What you didn’t know was that ‘whatever they could’ would come with a grave cost.

When you had first heard the news, you collapsed. You had lost your brother. The one piece of your family you had left and he was gone. Unsurprisingly, Maverick had turned into a mess. Goose was like the brother that he never had. Regardless of whose fault it was technically, Maverick would never stop blaming himself. Needless to say, Mav wasn’t handling the situation very well. Even Carole seemed to be having a better time coping with the tragic loss of her husband.

While a large part of you felt so sorry for your boyfriend, the other part wished he would open his eyes. He wasn’t the only person that lost somebody. But he was sure acting like he was. Carole had lost a husband. Bradley had lost a father. You had lost a brother. And yet none of that seemed to matter to your grieving boyfriend. To him, he was the only person that lost Goose. He began drinking his troubles away, not a single thought as to what all of this was doing to you.

Now, you were sobbing in the bedroom you shared with Maverick. He hadn’t been at the past few days of training, spending all of his time in the bar. With your boyfriend off god-knows-where, you couldn’t help but miss everything that the two of you used to have. Late nights spent cuddled up on that old ratty couch, Mav whispering sweet nothings in your ear the whole time flooded your mind as you continued to sob.

Goose wasn’t just your boyfriend, he was your best friend. A few days after the accident, the pain had worn off. Now, all you felt was numb. While Maverick had drinking, you had nothing. You had nothing to make that feeling go away. Through your tears, you finally came to a horrible realization. Your loving boyfriend was gone. He died in the same accident that your brother did.

You couldn’t stay with him anymore. Not if it was going to be like this. Was Maverick hurting? Of course he was. But were you also hurting? Yes. In the aftermath of the accident, you had assured Maverick again and again that you were there for him. That you would be the shoulder he could lean on should he need somebody. Instead, he had turned to drinking, leaving you with no shoulder at all.

Sniffling, you wiped your nose on the back of your hand and stood up from the bed on shaky legs. You hadn’t left the bed all day. Picking up the phone, you tried to call the bar where you figured Maverick was. When the bartender picked up and tried to hand the phone to Mav, your boyfriend refused to talk to you. The phone dropped out of your hand as you stared straight ahead. That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Numbly, you began packing your bags. You had very few clothes, but you threw all of them into a bag with little to no order. Soon enough, your bags were packed and you were slamming the door of Maverick’s base housing. Time seemed to fly as you called a taxi to the airport and bought a ticket home. Sure, Carole and Bradley were still here, but you had no reason to stay. You would have loved to stay for Maverick’s graduation. However, you just couldn’t bring yourself to wait around for someone that was long gone.

a/n: thank you for reading! Join the taglist!

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

[suck4angststory]

One Shot: Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x Fem!Reader

Second Part I Still don't like him

You Never Like Every Man I'm Dating

Summary: you're dating Maverick, as an Admiral Daughter, your dad doesn't like you dating any Navy Men, especially Maverick. He tries to separate you in many ways, but is he gonna give up this time?

Warning: Mid-Smut?, Allusion to sex, fluff, so many kissing and make out, Maverick love language is forehead kisses. English is my second language. Feel free to give comments about my writing and grammars mistakes.

Author Note: first time writing in second person, hope you guys like it. If you want to be tagged just let me know in the comment. I can't reply to any of your comments because it's a sideblog. But I really appreciate your comments and responses.

***

You open your eyes and looked around. You're not in your room. When you remember where you are, a smile forms on your lips. You feel a bare chest attached to your back and a tanned arm circle around your waist. You smile and turn to face the latter.

You cup his cheek and rub your thumb in his jaw. He smiled in his sleep.

"Good Morning, Captain Mitchell" Maverick smiled and tightened his grips on your waist. He then lay on his back and brought you to his chest. You let out a squeal.

"Babe, I'm gonna be late" You muttered in his chest. Maverick let out a sigh and kiss your hair. "Good Morning to you too, Sweetheart" He muttered in your hair.

You kiss his chest, trailing up to his neck to his cheek. You swung your legs and straddle his waist. The cover on your body falls to your butt.

Maverick let out a giggle when you peppered his neck with a kiss. "Okay okay okay, it's tickle now". You lift your head and give him a mischievous smile."Oh, is it?". You bend down and suck his chest hard until it left a purple mark. You trailed to his neck and suck a purple mark in there too. Maverick let out a moan and grunt, unaware of what you do. When you lift your head and grinned at him, he looked at the marks you just make.

"What!?, (Y/N)..." He groaned and rub the mark on his chest to make them gone, but it's useless.

"It looks nice, though. It will remind them, who you belong to" you bite your lip and stared at him. Maverick rolled his eyes and snake his arms on your waist. He lifts his body and sits down so you're on his lap now, he tucks your body close to him so your chest is touched by his.

"Okay, so you have to be reminded too who you belong" you let out a squeal when Maverick flipped you so you're underneath him. Maverick then kiss your neck and give them a soft suck. He kiss down to your chest and took your nipple in his mouth.

You let out a moan when his hand trailed down to your womanhood. He lift his head from your chest and looked at you with lust. "Last round before going to work?". You nodded and Maverick leaned down to capture your lips.

He opens your legs and you two continue your activity last night.

****

You're in the kitchen, flipping the pancake when you feel a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist. You smile when you feel Maverick kiss your cheek.

"It smells nice here" he muttered on your neck and give them delicate kisses.

"It's just pancake and bacon" you tilt your neck to the side and Maverick peppered kiss in there. He brought your hair to the other side to give him more access to your neck. "Everything you make is good. Including you" his hand trailed to your breast to massage them. He then begins to give your neck soft sucks. His grey Navy shirt you wearing and you tuck into your Jeans, he begins to lift it. Your eyes fluttered closed and you let out a shaky breath at his actions.

"No, Mav. I have to go to work". You stopped his hand before he can unbutton your jeans. Maverick steps back and you turn off the stove before turning around to face him.

"Why? We still have time" He frowned. You cup his cheek and give his lips a peck. "Hondo called me five times while we were in the shower. "

"What happens?" He furrowed his eyebrows. His arms snake to your waist and brought you closer to him.

You circle your arms to his neck and begin to play with the hair on the nape of his neck. "He said he wants to talk about the project." You shrug. "So, I have to go now, and you can't come late today. Today is important" Maverick smiled and leaned down to give your lips a chaste kiss.

"I know. I even mark it on my calendar" he begins to sway you and rest his forehead on you. "So, you're not going to catch a ride with me then?"

"I'm sorry baby" you give him puppy dog eyes. The one that'll make him weak on the knees. "Besides, you still have to fix that Mustang though. You promise to take me on a ride"

"I still can give you a ride in there even though it's still not fixed" Maverick give you a teasing smile.

"Pervert" You snorted.

"What you mean Pervert? We don't have to fly, just take the plane for a joy ride around this place. No need to be flying" His smile is bigger now because he caught you on guard. You scoffed and kiss his lips one more time before entangling yourself from him.

"Love you, Maverick" you open his trailer door and walked toward his living room in his shop, you take your Dark Blue Denim Jacket with a lot of Navy patches.

"Love you too Sweetheart" He called out from his door. You smiled and blew him a kiss. You walked toward your car and slipped into your Jacket in the process.

Before you can open your car door, Maverick called you out. "Wait, (Y/N)!" He jogs up to you, when he's in front of you, he cups your cheek and kisses you hard on the lips. You smile and kiss him back and cup his cheek with one hand.

"For good luck" He pulled away and give you one last peck.

He kisses your forehead and muttered, "I love you". You smile and kiss his cheek. "I love you too"

He opens the car door for you and gives you a wave when you pull back your car, you take a turn and blow him a kiss and wave before leaving his sight.

Maverick smile and shake his head. He let out a happy sigh and walked back to his trailer. His day with you is always the best day he has. He acted like a horny teenager whenever he was with you. He always wants to touch you, kiss you, and wrap you in his arms. He doesn't want you to leave his side. This year has been great for him, and no one can ruin that.

Your relationship with Maverick hit two years now and he doesn't want to replace it even if the world depends on it.

He loves you so much that it makes his heart beat so fast whenever he is near you.

You met him during one of the Jet programs you lead. He's one of the pilots that'll gonna test your project.

Despite your Father warning about Navy Men and you decided you didn't want to involve with their kin, Maverick manage to knock down your walls about this. You begin dating him after six months of turning down his date offer.

When your Dad found out, he didn't like it. He thought Maverick is too old for you and he was just some Navy Brat that always gonna make himself and you in trouble. So he cut Maverick from the program but his guardian angel manages to take him back again. Your dad even tries to send you across the world but somehow Maverick manage to be in the same program again with you.

Until this day, your dad didn't like him and try everything to separate you two. But Maverick always have his way to close with you again. He doesn't have a problem with your age difference with Maverick, he and your mom too have huge age differences. It's just, He Doesn't Like Mavericks.

When he assigned you to lead his new program to build a new Jet Plane, he didn't know you will have Maverick as the tester pilot. He tries to send Maverick to another program, but again, Maverick always have his way too close to you, his guardian angel, once again, helps him to secure his place in this program.

But not today, this day your dad has a perfect plan to make Maverick go away from your life, including the Navy, for good.

***

When Maverick arrived at the Hangar,  he saw Hondo and CWO for this project gather around beside the Dark Star Plane. Their hushed voice fills with worries.

Maverick park his bike and remove his aviator while he climbed out from his bike, he walked to them with his aviator in hand.

He gave them a small smile despite their worried looked. His day has been great until now, no one can't ruin them. "Hey. What is it? What?" He whipped his head to find any explanation from them.

Hondo pursed his lips "We've been ordered to stand down. They're scrapping the program. They say we fell short. The contract threshold is Mach 10." Hondo shakes his head in disbelief at this situation.

Maverick expression changed to surprise "Mach 10 is supposed to be in two months. Today's test point is Mach 9." Maverick pointed out

"Well, that's not good enough." Hondo shrug.

Maverick bit his lips. "Says who?" He looked at Hondo

"Admiral Cain." One of the CWO answered for him. Maverick tossed his head down and pursed his lips, he know very well who that was. He begins fidgeting with his aviator.

"The drone ranger. He wants our budget for his unmanned program." Hondo explained.

"He's on his way to kill the test and shut us down personally." The CWO added.

Maverick nodded and pursed his lips "Where's (Y/N)?" he asked Hondo.

"In her office" Maverick walked away from them to your office. He knows very well what this project means to you. You spent your entire year making this program works. You slept for three hours when you start building the plane, you even slept in your office to finish the design and just come home two days a week, and it was him that begged you to get some sleep in your home.

You told him that this is your dream to build something, you spent your life just testing weapons or making some designs, but didn't have a chance to build them. That's why he asked Iceman to assign him as a Pilot tester for the Program. To be close to you and to help you make your dream come true.

So he'll make this project work for you and the sake of everyone in this program.

****

Maverick knock at the door but he just heard your sniffles and hiccups. He carefully push the door open and saw you on your chair. Your hands covered your face and the Dark Star sketch was scattered on your desk.

Maverick heart hurt seeing you like this. He walked to your desk and take the chair in front of it. He rolled the chair beside you. He sits down and carefully takes your hand from your face.

"Darling.." he said softly. You sniffed and wipe your tears with your free hand.

"What is wrong with him? He wants me to lead this program, and, when we're close enough to reach the final, he wants to shut it down. Did I do something wrong, Mav? Did this program actually useless? Did I doing it wrong all this time?" You asked him. Maverick brought you to his chest and shush you. You cry again on his shoulder. "No no no, this isn't your fault, darling. You know how he is."

"But it isn't fair. All of these people uphold on this program, we work so hard to reach this point" you sobbed, soaking Mav's jacket. Maverick stroke his thumb on your temple while rubbing your back with the other.

"So we give him what he wants," He said nonchalantly. You stopped crying and lift your head from his shoulder. You looked at him confused. "What?" You cock eyebrows to him.

He cups your face and wipes your tears with his thumb "If he wants Mach 10, we give him Mach 10" he said sternly.

"But it isn't possible Mav. It is supposed to be Mach 9 before Mach 10. I don't even know if she is capable to do it" you shake your head in his grip.

"You have Maverick on your team. Everything is possible" he gives you a smug smile.

"Mav.." you whined. "I mean it. Let's hit the Mach 10, she's ready" He reassured you. He placed both of his hands on your shoulder, he leaned closer and looked at you in the eyes. "Did I ever doubts you these past years?"

"N-no but.." you trailed off. You don't want this, you know what happens to him when he fails this test.

"Trust me, darling. We're gonna hit that Mach 10 he wants so much. And we're gonna slap him with that right in his face" He give you his Cheshire smile, and you broke into a smile. He rests his hand on your cheek and stroke your jaw. "There it is that sweet smile. Don't be sad again, my love. We're gonna be fine" He leaned to kiss you on the forehead.

"I love you." You told him.

"I love you too. C'mon, we should get ready. All of them are waiting for us" Maverick stand up and gives you his hand, you gladly take it and you walked out of your office hand in hand.

****

Maverick sit on the chair while the doctor took his heart data from his body. You stood beside the doctor and read the WCO report about Dark Star.

"Wow, your heartbeat is so strong Maverick," the doctor told him. He glances at you that still focused read the report.

"Yeah, took some strong coffee today" He glance back and clear his throat. He begins to tap his fingers on the arms chair. The doctor raised her eyebrows at him and shake her head with a smile.

***

"Hondo gonna assist you for today, I have to check something on the plane before you use her" You walked in the hallway with Maverick beside you. He suddenly stopped on his track, you stop and cock your eyebrows at him.

"Okay, then give me my Good Luck kiss" He walks to you and leaned down trying to kiss you, but you push him back by his chest.

"Not here, there are too many people here" you jutted your head behind him where people were busy walking back and forth in the hallway. Maverick let out sighs and tug you with him. He brought you to the janitor closet.

He closed the door behind him and kiss you on the lips. You are taken aback by this but kiss him back afterwards. He tugs you closer by the waist and rests your back on the door. He deepened the kiss and You wrap your arms around his neck. You pull back to catch your breath while Maverick tries to catch your lips.

"Why you always so horny" you bit your lip to contain your smile and shook your head.

"I'm not horny, I'm just trying to kiss my girl" he scoffed and leaned down to kiss you again but you put your hand on his chest.

"That it's not a kiss, baby," You give him a chaste kiss on his lips "this is a kiss. That was made out" you brush his hair and looked at him softly.

Maverick bit his lips and smiled. He cock his eyebrows "it's not make out, darling, this is make out" he leaned down and kiss you hard on the lips. He licks your lips to gain access to your mouth, when you open your mouth, Maverick shove his tongue into you. Your make-out session becomes hotter, he massages your breast through your uniform. When he tries to open your trouser,  knocks on the door interrupts him.

"Mav, we ready for your physical test" Hondo's voice muffled behind the door. He pulls back immediately and rests his forehead on your shoulder to calm down himself.

"Yeah, I'll be down in sec" he called out. You lick your lips and played with his hair.

"C'mon captain, there's someone we need to slap in the face," You told him. Maverick then lift his head from your shoulder and kiss your forehead.

***

You sat beside Hondo in the control room. Maverick voice begins to fill the room.

"Control, this is Dark Star. How do you read?"

"Dark star, control.  Loud and clear. How me?" Hondo is gonna lead the test for today while you sat and watched the progress until Admiral Cain is coming.

"Loud and clear. Takeoff precheck's complete. Ready for A.P.U start."

"Ready left engine start. Ready right engine start. Thumbs for taxi." All of the WCOs then give the thumbs up for Hondo "We are ready for taxi." You rest your back in your seat. You folded one of your arms on your stomach and other you raise your fist to your mouth and begin to bite at it.

"Tower, this is dark star. We are taxiing with information Alpha."

"Dark star, you are clear to taxi. Runway 21. Winds 210, 10." The traffic controller gives clearance for Maverick .

"Fuel temps are looking good."

"Control concurs."

"Battery's holding at 95%. The cabin pressure looks good."

"Control concurs."

"Tower, this is dark star. We're ready for takeoff. Requesting an unrestricted climb to 600 and above."

Traffic controller "Dark star, the runway and skies are yours."

You heard on your headphone that Admiral Cain just pulled up on the gate, you stopped fidgeting and looked at Hondo. Hondo looked at you with consent for a sec and looked back to the screen to tell Maverick through the radio.

"Maverick, Cain just pulled up to the gate. It's not too late to stop, buddy. You know what happens to you if you go through with this." Hondo told him.

"I know what happens to everyone else if I don't," Maverick muttered, his mind already set. You saw everyone in the room look at the screen with hope. They're like family to you, working side by side for a year and they've to go back to working in the boring facility while waiting for a new program called to them if this program got shut down.

Hondo tilted his head down. "Dark star is ready for takeoff."

You touch Hondo's hand, he lifts his gaze to you. You nodded at him reassuring him that we should try this. Hondo let out a deep sigh and begin to prepare for take-off.

"Everyone, go for takeoff, starting with the engine."

"Engine, go."

"Thermals, go."

"Fuel, go."

"Electric, go."

"Control surfaces, go."

All of the WCOs cleared Maverick for takeoff. "Dark star, control. You're cleared for takeoff."

You let out a sigh when Maverick takeoff the plane. The real test has started. "Dark star, you are cleared above 600. Increase to Mach 3.5.

"Cleared above 600. Increase to Mach 3.5."

The door to the control room is slammed open and Admiral Cain walked inside, he looked pissed "Admiral. Uh, just in time, sir." Hondo great him. Admiral Cain took off his aviator.

"I'm early. So are you. Care to explain?" He asked harshly. He looked at you, but you glare at him and rolled your eyes. You looked back to the screen in front of you.

"Transitioning to scramjet." The Engines jet roaring.

"Uh, mav, Admiral Cain is asking..." Hondo furrowed his eyebrows

"Ordering." Cain corrects him.

"Ordering that we bring her down."

Maverick then imitates audio distortion "Op... oop... Alpha... three, oh... as sing... ach... Ive... 4, and... within six..." you can see humour on his face. You smile at him and bit your lips to suppress your laugh. Hondo turned to Cain

"This is where we've had trouble with comms, sir. It's the earth's curvature. It's called 'earth bulge.' " All of the WCOs in the room suppress their laugh at Cain's expression that looked pissed and confused.

"Did anyone offer you a coffee?" Hondo ask him, but Cain just raised his eyebrow to him "Okay." Hondo nodded and looked back to the screen.

The sound of the screen beeping reaches all of your attention "He's at Mach 7, pushing 8."

"Flight data?" Hondo asked the WCO

"Receiving. Data is good."

"Temperature's climbing. The response is still stable. We're feeling good."

The screen beeping with the increased speed "Mach 8.8. 8.9. Mach 9."

"He's the fastest man alive," Hondo whispered and shook his head in disbelief.

"Talk to me, goose." Your heartache every time Maverick call Goose's name. You begin fidgeting again in your seat.

The screen beeps every time Mav increase his speed "Mach 9.1. 9.2. Mach 9.3. 9.4. Approaching high hypersonic."

The warning beeps begin to appear "Windshield hot caution." The alarm begins blaring. You almost stand up from your seat. "Surface temp rising." You heard Maverick grunts and gasps. You stand up in your seat and looked closely at the screen. Maverick gasps and shouts out when the speed begins to close to Mach 10.

"Mach 10!" All of you in the room begin to cheer. You hug Hondo and he lifts you from the floor. You give Admiral Cain a smug smile and he rolled his eyes at you.

"Put that in your Pentagon budget!" One of the WCOs shout out to him and Cain whipped his head to him. You snorted and sit down again.

But this is when you begin to panic, Maverick always want to test his limits.

"Don't do it, baby" you muttered to the radio.

"Oh, don't do it. Don't do it." Hondo do the same but Maverick increase the speed to Mach 10.1 "oh shit"

You shook your head and rest your back on the chair. You put your hand on your temple and begin to massage them. At least he hit the Mach 10 he promise you.

"You got some balls, stick jockey. I'll give you that." Cain gritted his teeth and turn to you, he shook his head at you.

The alarm begins to blare and suddenly the screen turns black, lost connection to the plane. You jump on your seat with Hondo. "Maverick. Maverick!" Hondo tries to call him but no response.

Admiral Cain scoffed, he then turn to you "(Y/N), I need to talk to you. In your office" He turns around and leaves the room. People in the room looked at you, but you just give them a tight-lipped smile. You pat Hondo's shoulder and followed Admiral Cain to your office.

****

Admiral Cain sits on your chair in your office. You sit opposite him with your arms crossed.

He looked at the pictures you placed on your des. There's the picture of you, your sister, and him on your graduation day, and your picture with Maverick on your vacation in Bora-Bora, Maverick is shirtless with his black short and you wearing a white bikini. Maverick lift you from the ground, hand resting on your butt and your arms wrapped in his neck. He kisses you on the lips with his aviator still on. The background is sunset in Bora-Bora.

The second picture is you and Maverick kissing in at night in your hotel room with Eiffel Tower in the background.

Admiral Cain turns down your pictures with Maverick. You rolled your eyes at him.

"Congratulations, your program is successful" he rests his elbows on the table.

"Thanks to Maverick. If it weren't for him, maybe my program will be shut down by now" You scoffed at him.

He rests his back on the chair. "I'm not gonna thank that punk" He shook his head.

You tsk and let out a sigh. You place your hand on the table. "Dad, get over it, we've been together for two years now"

"And I still don't like him," He said sternly. You frowned and folded your arms again "You never like every man I date"

"I like that British boy" He shrugs and rests his back again on the chair.

"You threatened him by holding a gun in front of him" you exclaimed. You still remember when your sister told you what your dad doing to that poor boy. He is just a sweet little boy who you met through your physic class. You've been dating for three months back there. Your dad threatened him when he want to pick you up for a date. He run off immediately and cancelled your date that day.

You try to call him, try to talk to him in person but he avoided you. And next week, your friend told you he moved out back to England. You told your sister about this, and she said she saw dad threatening the poor boy by holding a gun in front of him.

You adore your dad, he raised you alone with your sister when your mom passed away when you were three years old. He became a single father with two daughters, and his work in the Navy made it very difficult for him, thanks to his Mom that helps your dad through this. Every time he got deployed, you and your sister gonna stay in your grandma's house. But sadly, your grandma passed away when you were in high school.

You remember crying over to him when he got deployed one day, you don't want with your Grandma or your sister, you just want him. He calm you down before going and make him late for deployment. Because of that, he get a suspended for a week.

"I just give him an example of what happens if he tries to hurt you, sweetheart. And Same goes for him" he pointed out to the frame he turn down.

"And next week he moved out back to England" you retorted. After this, you don't speak to him for a week. It tortures him, and you know that. After that, he agrees to never be involved in your love life again.

But he have his own way to make all of the men especially Navy men will go away from you. He'll make them stationed in the middle of a desert. Or send you to another country for a special mission.

But Maverick, he can't make him stay away from you. He even tries to make him discharged from the Navy, but again, he come back.

He knows who Maverick is. His reputation among every Admiral is not surprising. His relationship with Admiral Benjamin's daughter is always been talked about by every Admiral in the Navy.

But, he knows you're an Adult now. You're 30 years old and can choose what is bad or not for you. But he doesn't want you to end up like Benjamin's daughter.

Maverick tries to gain his trust and he almost falls with it. He gives you the Dark Star program and sends Maverick away to the desert, but somehow, he's back and becomes your tester pilot. And now you've been seeing each other every day for this past year and it's just made you and Mav grew closer.

He knows any of this because he always has his eyes on you.

Cain let out a sigh. "Look, I'm here isn't want to discuss about your love life. I'm here because They need you to test some weapons" he leaned closer and rest his arms on the desk.

"They? Or you?" You lifted your eyebrows to him.

"They, Pentagon, The Navy. They have an upcoming mission in four weeks" He remarked. You looked at him suspiciously. "Where?"

"CVN-71" He shrugs

You looked at him with wide eyes and scoffed "So you'll send me to the middle of Ocean now? Is this your way again to make me and Maverick broke up? Because it will not be happening. I love him dad" you looked at him like a kicked puppy. This is what he is afraid of, his little daughter loves a man beside him. And that man is Maverick. He really should shoot him with one of his drones while he's in Afghanistan.

"No, they really need you now. And I'll not bother you with Captain Mitchell again after this" He said to you softly.

"You said that last time, but you send me to Korea for four months, Dad" You exclaimed. And looked away from him.

Cain then let out a sigh "I mean it this time Sweetie" he said softly. You turn to him and looked at him in the eyes.

"If you mean it, you sign the paper in front of you" you nodded to the brown folder on top of your desk. On the cover is written "Cain Declaration".

He opens the folder and reads what is inside of it. He raised his eyebrows and looked at you. "Okay, if it'll make you believe me" he took your pen from the desk and sign the paper. You smile triumphantly and took the folder when he's done signing the paper. "Good, and try to be nicer with him this time" you stand up from your seat.

"Not happening" he shook his head.

"You just sign this" you pointed to the folder in your hand.

"To accept your relationship with him, not be nice nor like him," he said sternly and pointed to the folder in your hand.

You smirked and pull out a folded paper in your trouser pocket "Op, I forget to tell you. There are two pages in here, where you have to be nice and treat him like your friend. If it's not, I'm gonna brought you to court" you open the door and walked out.

Cain shook his head with your demeanour "I still don't like him" he called out but you already walked away.

***

Maverick is escorted by two men holding guns behind him. You waited for him in the corner outside your office. You rest your back on the wall behind you and tap your foot patiently.

Maverick with his dirty flight suit, helmet in his hand, smiling when he looked at you waiting for him. He jogs up to you.

"Hey.." He stands in front of you and grins. You smile, when he thinks you're gonna hug him, you punch his chest hard. "Don't do that again you freak" he let out grunts and rub the sore part.

"Sorry darling" he gasps, he has to be careful with your punch, you have a good punch. You let out a sigh and wrap your arms around his neck and hug him, not caring about the dirty suit he wears. Mav snakes one arm to your waist and kisses your exposed neck.

The two men that escorted Maverick leaving you to give you sometimes. You know them because they were your Dad soldiers. You met them whenever you visit your dad in his office.

"Is your Dad already waiting for me?" He pull back and looked at you lovingly.

"Yup.." you nodded. Maverick let out a sigh, he tossed his head down and pursed his lips. "What he's gonna do this time, honorably discharge me or send me to another desert?" He lifts his eyebrows.

"I don't know, but I think he wouldn't do that again" you shrug. Maverick cock his eyebrows, confused why your dad didn't want to punish him anymore.

When he wants to ask why, one of the two men that escorted him before appears to inform him. "Sir, Admiral Cain is ready for you"

"I'll tell you later, now, go face him. And don't piss him too much" You pat his cheek. He gives you a cheeky smirk. "I'll try"

"I love you" He kisses your forehead and follows the man to your office.

"I love you too" you called out, he turn back and give you a small.

****

You wait for him in the waiting area near the entrance. When you saw him walk toward you with a smile on his face, you stand up. He placed his helmet on the table and stood in front of you.

"So, what did he say," you ask him. Maverick hug you tight and lift you from the ground, you let out a squeal.

"They called me back to Top Gun," he said happily. You smile nervousness at him. "Oh.."

Maverick frowned and looked at your expression, "hey, I know a nice place where we can live near the beach. We can go there by bike, you said you always want a road trip with me. How does it sound?"

You bit your lips and looked down, Maverick saw this and know something isn't right. He placed his finger under your chin and lift your face to look at him. He saw your sad look "What happens, darling. Talk to me" he cup your face softly.

"Baby, I'll have another mission. They want me to test some weapons for an upcoming mission" you hesitated. Maverick let out a sigh and bite his lips. He shakes his head, he knows is too good to be true.

"Where?" he looked at you again.

"CVN-71" you muttered.

" In the middle of the Ocean! That's too far, how can I reach you? Is this your dad's way to separate us again? Sending me to North Island and you to Ocean?" His face looked hurt. He frowned.

You shake your head and rest your hands on his biceps. "No baby no. I think this mission is really important because my dad would never send me to the middle of the Ocean. He said after this mission he wouldn't budge us again" Maverick sighed and brought you to his arms. You snake your arms to his mid-section and rest your head on his shoulder. He kisses your head and inhales your hair scent.

"He said that last time and send you to Korea" he muttered on your hairline.

"That's why I made him sign that" you turned to the folder on the table 'Declaration of Cain'. Maverick chuckled and just hug you tight  "But I'm gonna miss you"

"I'm gonna miss you too. We still can call or face time" you shrug in his arms.

"Why the world is so cruel. I just wanna be with my girl, have her in my arms every day" he muttered dramatically. You lift your head from his shoulder and wrap your arms in his neck. You smile and rolled your eyes at his frown.

You leaned toward him and kiss him. Maverick smile and gladly kiss you back. He cup your cheeks and deepened the kiss. Your kiss doesn't go further when someone clears their throat. You drift apart and saw your father standing beside you two with a disgust looked on his face.

"(Y/N), your chopper is ready. Your gonna take off now" he nodded at you. Maverick widened his eyes. "Right now!? We didn't even say goodbye" He stood beside you and wrap his arms on your shoulder.

"You already said your goodbye." He told him harshly. Cain then turned to you "C'mon (Y/N)" He walked away to the tarmac where Chopper already waiting.

"I love you, Captain Pete Maverick Mitchell" You smiled at him and hug him one more.

"I love you too, (Y/N) Cain" he kisses your forehead. You entangled yourself from him and follow your father outside. Maverick saw you with frowned through the glass door until you climb into the Chopper and flew leaving him alone. Once again.

He let out a deep sigh and the soldiers that gonna escorted him before, called him. "Sir.." they'll take him to his quarter.

Maverick know, he'll gonna meet you again soon, he just know it. He just has to survive whatever waiting for him on North Island.

[aiden-in-clouds]

Is the Top Gun fanfom dead around here or would anyone be interested in slowburn, eventual smut, multi-chapter fic about OC x Older Mav?

[bloodwrittenballad]

kinda wanna write an older!mav mini series with lots of angst and smut… thoughts?

[sarahsmi13s]

|| Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell Masterlist ||

i DO NOT consent to copies or translations of my work!

hello my little cassettes! here is where you can find all of the stories that feature pete 'maverick' mitchell!

general taglist

series

sorry... none yet 😅

angst

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smut -- 18+ MDNI

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fluff

-> "would you just shut up and kiss him already?" (pete mitchell x simpson!reader)

[callsign-mayhem]

heaven is a place on earth (b.b)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female!Reader Word count: 4.6k CW: Smut and swearing. MINORS DNI.

A roller rink with the Daggers, a bet with Bradley Bradshaw, and a photo booth that’s about to get way too hot. Lose the game, make the move—neither one of you is backing down, especially when the stakes are so high.

Rollerskating was—of course—Mickey’s idea. Who else, at the ripe age of 32, would suggest it when faced with the question of what to do on a Friday night?

It had come about earlier in the week when Javy complained that he was bored of spending every Friday at The Hard Deck. At first, you were shocked to hear it, but the more you thought about it, the more you realised that you felt the same. The Hard Deck was great and would always be the Dagger Squad’s designated hangout spot, but you could do with a change.

Everybody agreed, but by Thursday night, there was still no plan for the following evening. Jake had suggested a country bar in the city, which you and Reuben had liked the sound of. Turns out, you were the only ones.

Natasha had suggested sushi, but you weren’t a fan and Mickey didn’t think it was exciting enough for your first Friday adventure away from The Hard Deck.

You were getting ready for bed when the text came through to the Dagger Squad group chat.

And that’s how you found yourself lacing up the old pair of skates you’d dug out from the back of your closet.

‘Since when do you own rollerskates?’ Jake retorted.

‘Since college.’ You replied. ‘I got a lot of use out of them. I had a friend who loved skating, and she forced me to buy a pair.’

Jake raised a brow. ‘Doesn’t match up with the version of you I have in my head.’

‘You’re just annoyed ‘cause I’m gonna show you up. Bet you’re shit at skating.’ You smirked.

Bradley, who was lacing up his own skates next to you, huffed a laugh. Jake’s shit-eating grin faltered. He was getting that look he always got when he challenged someone.

‘How hard can it be?’ He asked, full of fake bravado.

‘It’s harder than it looks.’ You told him.

‘Ten bucks says you fall on your ass before I do.’

You looked up at him and smirked, reaching your hand out so you could shake on it. ‘Oh, you’re so on.’

‘Material Girl’ by Madonna blasted through the overhead speakers, and disco lights spattered the rink with colour. The neon-coloured seats outside the rink were shaped like giant blobs of paint, and the Daggers were spread across three of them, getting ready to make total fools of themselves.

Bob shifted uneasily as he eyed his feet, trying to figure out how to stand up without sprawling flat out on the ground. You stood up easily and glided over to him, earning you a whistle from Reuben.

‘You okay, Bobby?’ You asked, even though you already knew the answer.

He offered you a weak smile. ‘I’ve never skated before.’

‘That’s okay, I’ll help.’

You held out both hands and he took them tentatively. His palms were slick with nervous sweat, and you had to swallow a laugh. It would only make him more nervous if he thought you were making fun of him.

‘Alright, on the count of three. One…two…’

And then you pulled him up. He couldn’t straighten his legs at first, and he wobbled a bit, but after a couple of seconds he was standing up straight and steady.

‘There you go.’ You praised. ‘Easy peasy.’

Nat, who was leaning against the edge of the rink waiting for everyone, clapped.

‘Now you’ve actually gotta move, Floyd.’ She called out.

Bob glanced at her nervously.

‘Ignore her. You fly in multi-million dollar jets every day, Bob. You can get yourself from here to the rink.’

Thankfully, this turned out to be precisely the right thing to say. You held on to one of his hands, and the two of you gently edged over to Nat. It took longer than it should have, but he was still upright by the time he got there, so you counted that as a win.

‘Well done.’ You beamed.

You were about to step out onto the rink when Mickey called out your name.

‘Can I get a ride, too? I’m stuck!’ He yelled.

You rolled your eyes. ‘This was your idea!’

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I know how to skate!’

You whizzed over to where Mickey was standing. He smiled sheepishly as you took his hand and repeated the same steps you’d taken with Bob. Mickey almost fell over, but he was right by the rink by that point, so he grabbed the edge to stop it from happening.

Effortlessly, you spun around. ‘Okay, anybody else?’

Bradley rolled over almost as effortlessly as you had. He was wearing one of his more ‘out there’ Hawaiian shirts, and the pink flowers seemed to glow in the dark. Honestly, you were a bit gutted that he didn’t need your help—it would’ve been a good excuse to hold his hand.

He leaned down so you would be able to hear him. ‘Hangman needs help, but he’s too proud to admit it.’ Bradley murmured, his breath warm against the side of your neck.

You hoped he didn’t notice the goosebumps that broke out across your skin.

‘I wouldn’t help him even if he asked.’ You retorted.

Javy and Reuben managed to get over to the rink's edge without much trouble, but Jake was checking his phone one last time and ensuring it was secure in the pocket of his jeans.

‘What’re you waitin’ for, Hangman?’ You shouted.

He rolled his eyes, and you and Bradley both laughed.

Jake on roller skates reminded you of a baby deer that hadn’t learned to walk properly yet. You suspected you would be ten bucks richer in the next five minutes.

Madonna gave way to ‘Take On Me’ by Aha, and Bradley nudged your arm with his elbow.

‘I love this song, let’s get out there. Hangman will catch up.’

His smile and joyous energy were infectious, so you followed him onto the rink without a word, and without looking back at poor Jake who was stuck behind a group of kids who were skating better than he was.

‘It’s the carpet.’ You heard him say. ‘I’ll be fine once I get off the carpet.’

Reuben, Coyote, and Nat were right behind Bradley and you. You mistakenly thought it would be a while before any of them could catch up on you, but then Nat glided past you, her dark hair billowing out behind her.

‘Whoa, Phoenix! I thought you couldn’t skate!’ Bradley exclaimed.

She spun around, so she was rolling backwards. ‘I never said that. There are plenty of things you don’t know about me!’

She sped off. Reuben and Javy tried to catch up, but their glides weren’t long enough, and they wobbled a lot.

‘You’re shuffling, not skating.’ You instructed. ‘You need to push the tips of your toes into the floor and then push forward.’

They wore matching confused frowns, and you huffed in annoyance. ‘It’s hard to explain. Just watch my feet!’

When the song's chorus kicked in, you pushed off and started taking long strides across the rink. When you got close to the edge, you leaned to your left to get around the corner, and then picked up your speed. It felt like being 21 again, carefree and full of boundless energy.

By the time Mickey, Bob and Jake finally joined the rest of the squad on the rink, you'd done three loops.

Reuben and Javy watched you closely; before long, they were building their confidence. Bradley was skating next to them, watching you with an impressed smirk.

It was easily the most fun you’d had in months.

Especially when Jake got too cocky, sped up and went straight into the barrier around the rink. You felt it in your body when he smashed into the floor.

You got to him quickly and helped him back onto his feet.

‘Are you hurt?’ You asked.

‘Just my pride.’

You grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘In that case, you owe me ten dollars.’ You said, and then you were on your way again.

Nat was teaching Bob and Mickey the same technique you’d taught Javy and Reuben, who were now racing each other around the rink. You’d slowed down next to Bradley to watch the commotion that was sure to end in tears.

Not five seconds later, the same group of kids that had gotten in Jake’s way were right in their path. The pair of them were going way too fast to stop, and before you could shout, the whole lot of them were in a pile on the floor. Both you and Bradley doubled over in hysterics, unable to breathe properly.

You were laughing so hard that you almost fell over. Bradley grabbed your waist with his big, strong hands, steadying you immediately. The warmth of his touch through the skin-tight fabric of your tank top was something you doubted you’d be able to forget anytime soon.

‘Easy, sweetheart.’ He said gruffly.

Your heart pitter-pattered, loud and fast enough that you were sure he could hear it over ‘Heaven Is A Place On Earth.’ Your mind wandered to the other places you wouldn’t mind those hands being, and you were nearing dangerous territory. Like, not-being-able-to-look-Bradley-in-the-eye-without-kissing-him territory.

But then Mickey rolled up beside you, the rest of the Daggers in tow, demanding your hand. Apparently, there was a first time for everything, because suddenly, you’d all made one long link. A friendship link, as Mickey had so gleefully yelled. You were skating around the rink in one long chain, laughing and singing along to Belinda Carlisle. It was a neon-coloured, cotton-candy scented dream.

Nearly two hours passed. The time flew by so quickly that when someone announced over the intercom that the seven o'clock group had only 5 minutes left, you were genuinely gobsmacked.

‘There’s no way we’ve been here that long already!’ Mickey exclaimed.

‘I know right,’ you said, pretty bummed out. ‘We’re gonna have to come back, I really enjoyed tonight.’

Nat looped her arm through yours. ‘I think even Hangman enjoyed himself towards the end.’

Jake was in front of you, trying to learn how to skate backwards with Bradley, who kept catching your eye on purpose.

There had always been chemistry between you, but nothing had ever come of it. In actual fact, tonight was the most obvious the two of you had been about it.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to dwell on this too much, because you had to get off the rink. The group chatted happily as they removed their skates and put their shoes back on. Everybody else had rented skates, so you went outside to wait while they returned them.

After two hours of skating, the fresh air was a relief. Your skates were tied together, slung over your shoulder, and you closed your eyes and lifted your face to the sky, breathing deeply. A night with your squad always left you feeling whole in ways that alone time didn’t.

‘Y/N!’ Bradley called.

You turned around to find him standing in the doorway holding what appeared to be two beers.

‘There’s an arcade upstairs, and bowling. You comin’ back in?’

This wasn’t part of the plan, but you were happy that the night wasn’t over yet.

‘What, so I can kick your ass at every game?’ You teased.

Bradley cocked a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching as he suppressed a smirk. God, you wanted to kiss that stupid mouth.

‘How about we make a bet of our own?’ He said, watching as you strolled over to him.

You didn’t stop until you were right in front of him, close enough that if you stood on your tiptoes just slightly, your lips would be touching.

‘What do you have in mind?’

He stared at you intently, eyes dark with lust. His brief glance at your glossed lips was a dead giveaway. ‘First one to lose a game has to make the first move.’ He rasped.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, and he released a short, exasperated breath.

‘Deal.’

Reuben, Javy, Bob and Mickey were locked into a serious game of bowling. You weren’t sure, but you thought they were playing for money. Nat and Jake were playing air hockey—rather viciously. After dumping your skates, you and Bradley set about choosing a game to play.

Mickey had really lucked-out by finding this place. The arcade was chock-full of different games and amusements—so many that you were overwhelmed by choices.

Bradley suggested Mortal Kombat, to which you politely declined. You counter-offered the race car sim, but Bradley wasn’t feeling it.

After playfully debating pros and cons for most of the games, the pair of you found yourself in front of Dance Dance Revolution.

There were so many pros for this one. For one, you kicked ass at DDR. For two, you would be in close proximity the entire time. You could accidentally trip him up or something.

Bradley shook his head slowly. ‘Uh-uh. Nope.’ He made a point of popping the ‘p’.

‘Why?’ You whined. ‘Please, it’ll be fun. Besides, I suck at this game so I’ll probably lose anyway.’ You lied.

Bradley eyed you suspiciously. Then, he got distracted and he trailed over your entire body. You might as well have been standing naked in front of him, for the way it made you feel.

He licked his bottom lip and you shivered. ‘Fine. Dance battle it is.’

You stepped onto the DDR platform, rolling your shoulders as the neon lights flickered over the screen. Bradley took the spot next to you, cracking his knuckles like he was about to go into battle.

He glanced over, that cocky smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘Think you can keep up with me, sweetheart?’ He teased, nudging your shoulder.

The machine beeped, the song selection flashing across the screen, and you scrolled through the options with deliberate slowness, dragging out the moment just to watch him fidget. His hands settled on his hips, chest rising and falling as he exhaled through his nose. Oh, he wants to win. Badly.

But when you finally picked a song and stepped back, Bradley leaned in—just enough for his breath to ghost over your cheek—and murmured, ‘Hope you don’t get too distracted.’

The countdown ticked down, and the first notes of the song exploded from the speakers. The arrows rolled up the screen, and you both moved in sync, feet tapping out the rhythm like it was second nature. You were laser-focused—at first. But then you glanced over, and Bradley was watching you, not the screen.

He was still nailing every step, his body moving effortlessly, but his eyes? They flickered over to yours, his smirk widening when he caught you looking. Oh, he was playing dirty.

‘You’re slowing down, sweetheart.’ He taunted over the pounding bass, his voice smug and dripping with amusement.

You gritted your teeth and snapped your gaze back to the screen, doubling down—faster steps. Perfect timing. Your score started climbing, matching his. But then—distraction struck back.

Bradley suddenly rolled his hips with the beat, his arms lifting slightly like he was actually dancing instead of just playing, and your brain stuttered.

‘Oh, come on.’ You huffed, missing an arrow.

His laughter was rich and victorious, but you didn’t have time to glare at him. The song kicked into high gear, the steps coming rapid-fire, and you forced yourself to focus, willing your feet to move faster, faster, until—

The screen flashed.

PLAYER TWO: GAME OVER.

Your heart sank as you realised what just happened. One tiny misstep, one moment of distraction, and—

Bradley whooped, punching the air. ‘And that, sweetheart, is game.’ He crowed, stepping off the platform with the swagger of a man who knew exactly what was coming next.

Your stomach flipped as he turned back to face you, grinning like the cat who got the cream. ‘You remember the bet, don’t you?’

Oh, you remembered.

And from the way he was looking at you—his lips slightly parted, his hands twitching at his sides like he was holding himself back—so did he.

You’d felt pretty confident up until about five seconds ago, and now the rug had been ripped out from under you. The DDR machine was in a poorly lit corner at the back of the arcade. Panicking slightly, you scanned your surroundings, trying to devise a plan. What if someone saw you? Were you supposed to kiss him?

Then your attention was snagged by the photo booth against the opposite wall. It was nestled between the back wall and a claw machine full of Jellycats. If this next part went well, you made a mental note to bring Bradley back here and make him win one for you.

Now you had a plan, your confidence was slowly trickling back in. After one more glance around the space to make sure none of the Daggers were watching, you grabbed Bradley’s hand and pulled him towards the photo booth.

‘Romantic.’ He quipped, a shit-eating grin to rival Jake’s plastered on his face.

If you thought DDR was close quarters, this was something else entirely. The bench was just big enough for the two of you.

You pushed the button to start it up, and prepared to pose for the first picture.

You knew the first one would be cute, because you and Bradley were both grinning like lovesick fools. As the countdown began for the second picture, your confidence finally hit max capacity…

Without giving yourself time to back out, you put your hand on the top of Bradley’s thigh and just before the camera snapped, you (not so) gently grabbed his dick. Now you were the one sporting the shit-eating grin, and Bradley’s head snapped towards you. That move had made him practically rabid.

You stared each other down, the countdown totally forgotten about. It didn’t matter, anyway. You were perfectly on time without even trying.

One minute, you were staring, and the next, Bradley was on you. Your hands were in his hair as he pulled you onto his lap and let both of his hands rest on your ass. The kiss was sloppy and frantic; you didn’t dare stop even though you were breathless. You’d been waiting a long time for this. You silently thanked your past self for choosing this little white tennis skirt. You could feel Bradley’s hard-on through your underwear.

His hands, which were on top of your skirt, now reached under so he was touching bare skin (another thank you to your past self for the pretty white thong). This only seemed to intensify the moment, because his lips moved to your neck. It was your turn to make noise when he began sucking on the sweet spot just below your earlobe. Honestly, you hadn’t meant for the moan to escape you, but it had, and he’d definitely heard it.

Bradley stopped only to tease you. ‘Oh, you like that do you?’

‘B-bradley.’ You breathed.

‘Okay, okay.’ He whispered. ‘I’ll carry on.’

And he did. You became a squirming, writhing mess on top of him, and he was eating it up. You’d lost the bet and you wanted to take some control back. While he was busy kissing your neck, you undid the button and zipper on his jeans, and reached in. You were sly and quick about it, and he barely had enough time to register what you were doing before you were palming his dick over his boxers.

Bradley’s breath caught in his throat as he tilted his head back up to look at you. His eyes were all pupil, and his cheeks were as red as the photo booth curtain. How was it possible for a man to be so fucking sexy and so adorable at the same time?

You had him right where you wanted him. Or so you’d thought. Stupidly, you found yourself getting distracted by the size of him, and that’s when he took two fingers and slipped them underneath the wet fabric separating you from him. All he had to do was make one stroke, and you were mewing in his lap.

‘Unless you want me to fuck you in this photobooth,’ you snapped. ‘You better cut that shit out.’

A deep, husky chuckle rolled through him, vibrating against your chest. You were half-joking, but he took your threat seriously. Adjusting slightly, he pulled his jeans down so they were at his knees, and then let you resume your former position. If you shimmied forward slightly, you’d be sitting directly on his dick, just his boxers and your flimsy underwear between you. Luckily for you, you didn’t have to decide whether to do that or not, because Bradley gripped your thighs and pulled you forward.

Dizzy with lust, you reached around and pulled his length from his boxers. Following your lead, he pulled your thong to the side, and slowly pushed two fingers deep into the heat of you. You bit back a moan that would have been far too loud, and his smirk was so frustrating that you had to cover his mouth with yours to hide it. He licked your bottom lip, and you let him taste you. It was a good distraction from the noises you were thinking about making.

‘I don’t have a condom.’ He whispered against your lips.

You were in such a state of ecstasy that you could barely get two words out. You just about managed to say one, which was simply ‘pill.’

He chuckled darkly again, and you tightened around his fingers. ‘Can you give me a full sentence, pretty girl? I need to make sure we’re both on the same page.’

He was being genuine, but he also couldn’t help himself. He added another finger and watched your eyes roll into the back of your head.

‘Sweet girl?’ He prompted.

You had a death grip on his bicep. ‘I’m. On. The. Pill.’ You said through gritted teeth.

‘See,’ he whispered, positioning himself beneath you. ‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

‘I’m gonna get you back for that someday, Bradshaw.’

‘I look forward to it.’

His tip pressed against your entrance. Briefly, you wondered what would happen if one of the Daggers, or some random stranger, came down to this end of the arcade. But then you were sinking onto Bradley’s cock, and the worries just melted away. As he gripped your hips and to help you get a rhythm, the phrase ‘rearrange my guts’ took on a totally new meaning. You groaned, and Bradley captured your lips in a brief kiss.

‘Quiet, sweetheart.’

Something about his commanding tone made it harder to keep quiet. You bit down on your lip to keep from shouting his name at the top of your lungs.

You were having sex. With Bradley Bradshaw. In a photo booth.

If Bradley hadn’t suddenly grabbed your hips, lifted you slightly, and started thrusting up into you, you would’ve laughed.

‘Fuck,’ he stuttered. ‘You feel so good.’

You were close. You tightened around him and he groaned again—it was your new favourite sound.

‘I’m-’

‘Me too.’

And then both of you were coming. Hard. His head rolled back as he tipped over the edge and spilled into you. It felt like someone had used your nerve endings to light a match.

You rode out your highs together, and when you were spent, you let out a long, shaky breath.

‘Holy fuck.’ You said.

Bradley ran a hand through his hair. ‘Well, I hope you like souvenirs, baby, ‘cause we’re keeping those pictures.’

You laughed. ‘We should probably get out of here. We’ve been missing a while.’

He kissed you again, for good measure. ‘I need to ask you something.'

You cocked your head. ‘What?’

‘Was that a one time thing?’

‘I really, really hope not.’

Back at the bowling lanes, Jake and Nat had joined in the fun. When you and Bradley appeared, everybody turned. Jake grinned wickedly. You locked eyes with Bob and he diverted his gaze very quickly. Nat was glaring at Bradley like a disappointed mother. Mickey and Reuben both handed Javy twenty bucks. All of this happened over the course of five, extremely drawn-out seconds.

‘You two were gone a while.’ Nat pointed out, folding her arms.

You and Bradley glanced at each other, unsure how to approach this situation.

‘We were playing Dance Dance Revolution.’ You told her. ‘I lost a bet.’

‘Really.’ She droned, sounding almost bored.

Oh, she knew alright.

You scrambled for something to say, tried to ignore the heat of everyone’s eyes burning into you. It was like they could see your sinful act written all over you.

And the ground might as well have opened up and swallowed you whole when Nat said: ‘Take any nice pictures?’

A/N: Just a little one shot while I try to motivate myself to finish my WIPs. This is my first time writing smut, so if it sucks, go easy on me.

[peachesandcreames]

I Genuinely Miss Them Hanging Out Together 💞💕💔

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Top Gun Headcannons 

characters: Rooster, Hangman, Bob & Maverick

summary: the readers first time / first time with him

BRADLEY “ROOSTER” BRADSHAW

You’ve done everything except this. But tonight, you stop being scared of how big he is… and let him ruin you sweetly.

⸻

You don’t even make it to the bed.

It starts on the couch — heavy kisses, impatient hands, your thighs open and him slotted between them like it’s the only place he belongs. You’ve been here before. Heated makeouts. His hand down your shorts. His mouth between your legs. He knows how to make you fall apart — has done it many times now — but this?

This is different.

He’s hard against you, straining in his jeans, and when you grind your hips up to meet him, you feel it: thick, hot, insistent. And you finally say it.

“I want you.”

Rooster stills. Eyes searching yours. His voice is low and careful.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve never—”

“Not with anyone like you.”

A long pause.

Then he nods. Quiet. Reverent. And starts undressing you like he’s never seen anything so beautiful.

When you’re bare beneath him, his shirt comes off too. Then his pants. And when he slides his boxers down and you see him for the first time?

Your breath catches.

“Bradley…”

“I know,” he murmurs, stroking a hand up your thigh. “We’ll take it slow.”

He’s already reaching for the drawer, pulling out a condom — but he takes his time. Rolls it on with a deep breath and comes back to you with that look in his eyes. The one that makes you feel wanted. Not just for this, but for everything.

He kneels between your legs, one arm braced beside your head, and when he lines himself up, his voice drops.

“You’re gonna feel so full, baby. I promise I’ll stop if you want me to.”

You nod, already breathless. He kisses your forehead. Then your lips. And then…

He pushes in.

Slow. Thick. Unbearably deep.

Just the tip and you’re already gasping, clutching his shoulders like you need something to hold onto. Rooster groans, barely moving, eyes lockedon yours.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Just… you’re really… big.”

“I know,” he says, and leans down to kiss your neck. “You’re takin’ it so good, though.”

He doesn’t rush. Inches in with agonizing care, letting your body adjust, letting you feel every single stretch, every little tremble as he works his way deeper. You dig your nails into his back and whimper.

“Bradley— it’s a lot.”

“I know, baby. Just breathe. You’re doin’ perfect.”

And when he finally bottoms out — hips pressed against yours, chest to chest, both of you sweating and panting like you’ve run a marathon — he doesn’t move. Not yet. He just stays there, letting you feel it.

“That’s all of me,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. “You took it. God, you’re perfect.”

You blink up at him, overwhelmed. You’ve never felt anything like this. So full. So close. So loved. And when he starts to move, slow and careful and full of reverence, your eyes flutter shut.

“Let go for me,” he says. “Let me take care of you.”

And you do.

You fall apart on him with a soft cry, and he groans against your skin as you clench around him. He praises you the whole time. Tells you how good you feel, how perfect you are, how proud he is that you trusted him.

And when it’s over — when you’re trembling and sensitive and tucked under the blanket in his arms — he presses a kiss to your temple and holds you tight.

“Told you you’d take it. And now you’re mine.”

JAKE “HANGMAN” SERESIN

He’s thick. He’s smug. And he’s been dying to get inside you for way too long.

⸻

You knew this was coming.

Weeks of teasing. Weeks of late-night texts, hands grazing yours at the bar, kisses that stopped just short of going too far. Jake had been patient — well, as patient as Hangman could be — but tonight?

You gave him the look.

And he devoured you.

⸻

He’s all hands and mouth at first, dragging your shirt over your head with a hungry groan, biting softly at your collarbone as he lays you down on the bed. His knee slots between your thighs, and his voice is low and cocky:

“You finally ready for me, darlin’?”

“I think so.”

“Think?” he grins, nipping at your jaw. “You better be real sure.”

And then you feel it.

Pressed against your hip. Thick. Heavy. Hard.

You freeze a little — breath hitching — and Jake immediately notices. Of course he does.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“You’re just… you’re bigger than I thought.”

“Mm.” He grins like the devil. “That a compliment or a warning?”

You flush. He kisses your shoulder, slows down.

“Hey. You don’t have to do this.”

“No,” you say quickly. “I want to. I just— I’ve never… taken someone your size.”

“Shit,” he mutters. And for the first time since you met him, Jake Seresin looks genuinely floored.

⸻

He softens.

He kisses you sweetly now. Less teasing, more reverence. He slides your panties down and whispers how pretty you are, how good you smell, how long he’s wanted this. Wanted you.

When he finally rolls the condom on, he strokes himself once and lets out a shaky breath.

“You let me know the second it’s too much, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Then he lines himself up. Presses in.

⸻

And oh. my. God.

The stretch is instant. Your fingers claw at the sheets, breath caught in your throat as his tip slips inside — just barely — and you swear you feel everything. Every ridge, every pulse, every inch like he’s built to ruin you.

“Fuck, sugar,” he groans, already breathless. “You’re squeezin’ me like a vice.”

“You’re big,” you gasp. “Jake—”

“I know. I know. Just relax. You’re doin’ so damn good.”

He takes his time. One hand gripping your thigh, the other cradling your face like you’re breakable. He kisses you through every inch. When he finally bottoms out, he’s panting into your mouth.

“Jesus Christ… you feel like heaven.”

“You’re… all the way in?”

“Yeah, baby,” he grins, forehead pressed to yours. “Every. Fucking. Inch.”

⸻

He moves slow at first. Deep, dragging thrusts that have your eyes rolling back and your nails sinking into his shoulders. But it doesn’t take long for that Hangman confidence to come back. That smirk. That wicked glint.

“Didn’t think you’d take me so well,” he groans, hips snapping harder.

“You like being full, don’t you?”

“Bet you’ll be thinkin’ about this every time you sit down tomorrow.”

And then he wrecks you. Not rough — just overwhelming. Stretched to the edge, overwhelmed by praise and pressure and the sound of his voice in your ear.

You come so hard you forget your name.

⸻

After?

Jake doesn’t move. Just stays inside you, hands rubbing soft circles on your waist, breathing hard as he presses soft kisses to your cheek.

“You okay?”

“More than okay.”

“Good.” He grins. “Told you I’d make it worth the wait.”

ROBERT “BOB” FLOYD

You’ve never done this before. And he’s never wanted anyone more.

⸻

You’d told him early on.

That you’d never done it before. That you’d waited — not for some big romantic reason, but just… hadn’t felt safe enough. Seen enough. Loved enough.

Until Bob.

And when you whispered that secret to him one night, curled against his chest, he just nodded. Kissed your temple. Whispered,

“Whenever you’re ready. I’ll take care of you.”

⸻

Now? You’re ready.

And he treats it like it matters. Like it means something.

Because to Bob? It does.

⸻

He lights the candles. Puts on a playlist. Keeps the lights low and the touches soft. He lays you down in the center of the bed like you’re something to worship, and kisses every inch of your body before ever even thinking about slipping inside.

“You’re sure?” he asks softly, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Yes,” you whisper. “I want you.”

“Okay,” he nods, swallowing hard. “Okay, baby.”

⸻

He undresses slow. Like he doesn’t want to scare you.

His body is lean but strong — and when he slides off his boxers, your breath catches. You weren’t expecting it to be… that much.

He sees your face. Stops immediately.

“Too much?”

“No— I just… you’re bigger than I thought.”

His voice goes gentle. “I’ll go slow. You tell me when to stop.”

⸻

He warms you up first. Kisses down your stomach. Presses his mouth between your legs until you’re shaking, gasping, nearly crying from how gentle and thorough he is. Only when your thighs are trembling and your hand’s in his hair does he finally reach for the condom.

⸻

And then… he’s above you. Between your legs. Holding himself there, eyes locked to yours.

“Deep breath, baby,” he whispers. “We’ll take it one inch at a time.”

And when he pushes in?

You feel it.

All of it.

Even just the tip makes you gasp — a soft whimper slipping past your lips as your fingers tighten on his arms.

“Too much?”

“No. Just— slow. Please.”

And he does. Inch by inch. Kissing you the whole time. Whispering things like:

“You’re doin’ so good.”

“So tight, sweetheart… I can feel your heartbeat.”

“You’re makin’ me lose my mind.”

⸻

When he’s fully inside, your body’s trembling. You’ve never felt so full, so stretched, so utterly claimed — and Bob doesn’t even move yet. He just holds you, lets you adjust, forehead pressed to yours.

“You okay?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Tell me if anything hurts.”

“No… it feels good. You feel good.”

And when he finally starts to move?

It’s like floating.

Soft, deep thrusts. His hand on your waist. His lips on your throat. He’s whispering your name like a prayer. Telling you how perfect you are. How good you feel. How long he’s waited for this.

“I’m not gonna last long, baby. Not when you’re like this.”

“It’s okay. I want you to.”

You both fall apart together. Shaking. Shattered. Held so tight you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

⸻

After?

He doesn’t let go. Not even for a second.

Wraps the blanket around you. Holds you to his chest. Kisses your forehead over and over.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

“No,” he murmurs, arms tightening around you. “Thank you. For trusting me.”

PETE “MAVERICK” MITCHELL

You’ve never had him. Not like this. And once you do… nothing else compares.

⸻

You’re already breathless by the time he lays you down.

The lights are off, but the lamp beside the bed glows low and gold. Everything feels warm — his hands, his breath, his voice.

And when he kisses you?

It’s slow. Intentional. The kind of kiss that owns you. The kind that warnsyou this is going to be different. Not sweet. Not rushed.

Earned.

“You’re sure you’re ready?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper.

He smiles. “Good girl.”

⸻

He undresses you slowly. Carefully. Like he’s unwrapping something fragile.

You’ve been naked with him before. Touched. Teased. Had his hands and mouth between your thighs until you sobbed. But this?

This is the first time he’s going to be inside you.

He slides his belt off with one hand and tosses it on the chair. You watch his pants drop, eyes going wide when you see him — long, thick, commanding. Your thighs instinctively press together.

He notices.

“It’s alright, baby. I’ve got you,” he says softly, moving over you again. “Just relax. Breathe.”

⸻

He doesn’t rush.

One hand cups your jaw while the other guides himself to your entrance. And when he pushes in — slow, steady, unshakably in control — your breath catches.

The stretch. The pressure. The overwhelming fullness.

“That’s it,” he whispers, lips brushing your temple. “Nice and slow.”

“Daddy—”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. You’re doin’ so good for me.”

He stills once he’s fully inside, and you feel it. All of him. Every inch. Every throb. Your hands claw at his back, your body trembling from the fullness.

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

“You’re takin’ me so well. Just like I knew you would.”

⸻

He moves in deep, slow thrusts — rhythmic, like flying formation — and every time his hips press into yours, you fall apart just a little more. He whispers praise into your ear between each breathless moan:

“So tight around me, baby.”

“This your first time takin’ someone like me?”

“Bet no one’s ever touched you like this. Fucked you like this. Loved you like this.”

You come with his hand over your mouth and your body arching into his. He doesn’t stop. He keeps going, deep and measured, riding you through the aftershocks with that same calm intensity.

You’ve never felt anything like it.

⸻

When it’s over, you’re tucked under his chest — legs still shaking, voice wrecked — and he brushes your hair back gently, lips to your forehead.

“You’re mine now, sweetheart.”

“Always were.”

BONUS!!! ALL FOUR OF THEM AT ONCE 😝

The room is silent when you take off your shirt.

All four of them — Rooster leaning against the doorframe, Hangman lounging at the edge of the bed, Bob sitting nervously in the armchair, Maverick standing with his arms crossed by the dresser — stop breathing at the same time.

You’re wearing nothing but your panties now. Chest bare. Eyes soft.

“Are you all gonna keep staring,” you murmur, “or are you gonna come touch me?”

That’s all it takes.

⸻

Rooster is the first to reach you.

Big hands, warm mouth. He kisses you slow and deep, tugging you into his chest like he’s waited years. His tongue curls against yours with a quiet groan and when you whimper into his mouth, he breaks the kiss and mutters:

“You sure you can handle this, baby?”

“Try me.”

⸻

Hangman is cocky but patient.

He strips slowly, eyes never leaving your body. The second Rooster pulls back, Jake slips in behind you, presses his mouth to your neck, and cups your chest like he owns it.

“Mm. Soft as I imagined.”

“You imagined this a lot, didn’t you?”

“Darlin’,” he whispers, voice thick, “you have no idea.”

⸻

Then there’s Bob.

Quiet, flushed, watching like he’s not sure he deserves this. You reach for him and he crosses the room in a heartbeat. His hands are gentle but desperate, stroking your thighs, kissing your shoulder.

“You okay, baby?”

“I want you, Bobby,” you whisper. “All of you.”

His breath catches.

⸻

Maverick hasn’t moved.

Not until you look at him. Hold his gaze.

“You gonna join us, Daddy?”

His jaw flexes.

And then he’s in front of you, tugging you into his arms, tilting your chin up.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then lie back,” he murmurs, voice sharp and low. “Let us take care of you.”

You lie in the center, naked now, heart pounding. The lights are low. The sheets soft.

They surround you like they’ve trained for this.

Rooster kisses down your stomach.

Bob brushes your hair back and whispers encouragement.

Hangman holds your legs open like it’s his right.

Maverick watches it all with quiet control — kneeling beside your head, stroking your jaw with one strong thumb.

“She’s shaking already,” Jake smirks.

“It’s a lot,” Bob murmurs. “She’s doing so good.”

“Let her breathe,” Rooster says, kissing your inner thigh.

“She can take it,” Maverick cuts in, voice gravel and command. “Can’t you, baby?”

You nod.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

⸻

🫦 WHO KISSES YOU FIRST?

Bob.

Of course it’s Bob.

He’s soft and reverent, kissing you like it’s his last chance. His hand cradles your face while Rooster mouths at your chest, while Jake trails fingers down your stomach, while Maverick murmurs praise into your ear.

“Look at you,” Mav whispers. “Taking four men like you’re made for it.”

“She was,” Rooster growls. “She was made for us.”

It’s overwhelming — in the best way.

Bob’s fingers stroke between your legs. Rooster’s mouth marks your collarbone. Jake’s hand wraps around your ankle, kissing the inside of your knee with a smirk. Maverick… watches it all.

Corrects them when they move too fast.

Keeps you calm.

Keeps you present.

“That’s it, baby. Let them take care of you.”

“You’re doing so good for us.”

“You want more?”

“Say it.”

You do. You sob it.

And they give it.

It’s Rooster’s mouth that tips you over.

His tongue is slow and deep, fingers curling inside you, while Bob holds your hand and Maverick whispers, “Good girl. That’s it, sweetheart. Come for us.”

And you do.

You shatter.

But they don’t stop.

Not until you’ve come three time more, voice hoarse, chest heaving, fingers clinging to whoever you can reach.

Jake leans over you after, licking his lips, smirking like he’s won a bet.

“I wanna make her cry next.”

🥹 AFTERCARE 🥹

Bob wraps you in a blanket first.

Rooster pulls you into his chest.

Jake wipes your thighs with a towel and actually kisses your knee like it’s sacred.

Maverick brushes your hair off your sweaty forehead and kisses your temple like a promise.

“You’re ours now, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

“Every piece of you.”

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[helloitstsyu]

Turning Page | Tom Cruise 18+

Fantasize Series Chapter 9 | Previous Part | Fantasize Masterlist

The kiss ends. So does the song. But neither of you move.

His forehead rests against yours, and in the hush that follows, the silence becomes more intimate than sound—like a breath held between heartbeats.

"I should take you back," you whisper, your voice barely a tremor against the charged air between you.

"I don't want to go."

Your lips part—not just from surprise, but from the naked honesty behind his words.

"I don't want to go back to pretending I'm someone I'm not when I'm with you."

You search his eyes, and for the first time, the storm you've always seen in him—guilt, restraint, fear—begins to clear. Something softer rises in its place.

Hope.

"Then don't," you whisper.

He doesn't answer. Not with words.

He only looks at you—like you're the first thing he's ever truly seen. Not with hunger, nor hesitation, but with reverence. As if your presence alone has unraveled something long-twisted inside his soul.

You steps back, hand slowly leaving his, you walk toward the exit. But before you push the door open, you turn to him. His eyes still locks on you with that warm gaze. You smile and hold your hand out to him.

"Are you coming?"

Tom's lips curve into a small, quiet smile. He slides a bill across the bar without looking away from you. "Joe, nice talking with you."

"Good luck, man," the bartender replies with a knowing wink.

Tom walks to you, big smile on his face. He laces his fingers through yours—not with possession, but with a quiet desperation. Like you're a lifeline. Like he's terrified of ever letting go again.

Outside, the air is crisp with desert wind. He shrugs off his jacket and places it over your shoulders without a word. You take the keys, told him you're the one driving since he had too much to drink; he doesn't argue. Just sits beside you, facing you, watching.

Every movement you make. Even a strand of flowing hair, he watches you like you're a performing miracle.

You can feel his gaze like the sun warming your skin—intense, patient, grounding.

Once you arrive, you park in front of your cabin. The silence between you isn't awkward—it's full, stretched like the space between lightning and thunder. You take a step toward the porch but he doesn't follow. Not right away.

You glance back at him.

And he looks at you like a prayer has just been answered.

You don't say anything. You don't have to.

You just smile and leave the door open—wide. Hoping he'd see it as an invitation.

Because deep down you don't want to part with him. Not even for the night.

The cabin is warm, glowing in the soft embrace of golden lamplight. You set your keys down with a gentle clink. Your breath trembling, heartbeats raising, in contrary to the slow moment and quiet night.

You hear the door closing, the air changes.

Then arms—familiar, strong, trembling slightly—wrap around you.

His chest presses to your back, his breath brushing your ear like a promise.

You let yourself exhale. Really exhale. For the first time in months.

His arms gradually tighten around you. You lean into him.

"Stay," you whisper.

He shakes his head, hand slowly raises to your face and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your eyes, his touch reverent. "I'm not going anywhere." he whispers.

He presses his forehead to yours again. His lips hover over yours, his breath feathering across your mouth like silk—too light to satisfy, too heavy to ignore. You can feel the strong whiskey from his breath. But still, his presence alone is far dizzying than any alcohol you ever tasted.

His fingers touches the bare strip between the hem of your top and your waist band that rest below your navel. That alone already sending your mind to cloud nine, you need him, desperately.

You open your eyes, meeting his. And you see it again—that look.

It's not lust. But devotion.

"Kiss me," you breathlessly plead.

His voice is roughened with need. "I might not be able to stop."

Your fingers clutch his shirt like it's the only solid thing in the world. "Then don't."

Lips colliding.

Not rushed. Not greedy. But whole.

Each kiss feels like a vow unspoken. A lifetime of restraint slipping from his lips to yours. Deep. Steady. The kind of kiss that heals the places you didn't know were broken.

His arm holds you closer,  pressing you to his chest as if there's more gap in between you two. The other one gently cups your face, worshipping each kiss like it's sacred scripture.

You break away the kiss to turn your body around—face him fully, your mouth claiming his again, deeper this time. Your arms around his shoulders, his hands molding to your waist like he's trying to memorize the shape of your soul.

You ease his jacket off you, his hand quickly helping it slide to the floor. His lips descend to your jaw, then your neck, each kiss slower than the last.

Deliberate. Devotional.

"You should tell me to stop," he murmurs against your skin, right where your pulse beats strongest.

You exhale, "Why should I?"

"Because..." Soft kiss to your left side of neck. Quick glance to your eyes before he leans again to the other side of you, "You said I'm drunk..." he kisses the soft spot on that side, the one he still remembers perfectly. Your mouth falls open, a soft whimper.

"You said you still know what you're doing," you retort. Biting your lip.

Tom looks at you again.

"I do," he whispers. His gaze is so deep, as if he searched for your soul. His fingers trail the hair along your face. So soft, reverent.

"Tom, I don't want you to stop," your fingers grip onto his shirt.

You pull him by his shirt. You kiss him again. He lifts you onto the edge of the desk behind you, never breaking contact of the kiss.

You pull at his shirt—his skin hot beneath your palms. He helps you, pulling it off, and throws it away somewhere. Your arms circles to his back, lips trail soft kisses all over his pecs.

Tom pulls your chin up, kisses your lips again. Then he begins to undress you. Slowly. Tenderly.

Like prayer.

Each article of clothing slips away under trembling hands. Not out of nervousness—but awe. Like he can't believe he's been trusted with this moment. With you.

He carries you to the bed like you're made of glass and stardust. Lays you down with reverence, his lips kissing a trail all over your body, like a cursive line he's tattooing his name onto.

Your breath hitches as you murmur his name, threading your fingers into his hair as he kisses down your body to your awaiting center.

He looks up before he place a gentle deep kiss against your clothed clit.

"Tom..." your head falls back to the pillow

He softly hooks his fingers to both sides of your hips, pulling the cream colored panties you're wearing. Baring you complete. He looks at you like you're a painting on a wall—full of adoration.

"You're so perfect.." he whispers

He kisses you. Tongue softly teasing your clit with such expertise making your breath hitching in your throat.

Tom climbs back to your eye level.

He stills, hovering above you, eyes locked to yours.

"One last time... Are you sure, Y/N? We don't have to rush"

You touch his face, gently, deliberately. You nod, "I want you… All of you,"

Relief softens his features.

He kisses you before standing to remove his jeans, revealing himself fully.

The sight of him still steals your breath. Not because of his body—but because it's him. This man, this soul.

He climbs back to you. Cupping your face.

"Eyes on me, okay?" he whispers.

You nod.

You feel him aligning himself to your entrance. You pant then he enters you slowly, carefully, his forehead pressed to yours.

A gasp escapes you—like something hollow inside you finally being filled.

He groans, stills within you. His hand cradling your cheek, the other holding you to him.

"You okay?" He asks through his pant.

You nod, breathless. "Yes,” Your hand guides his hips to move.

He moves. Not fast. Not hard. But with a rhythm so gentle, so sacred, it feels like he's speaking to your soul in a language only the two of you understand.

Your hand grips the pillow next to your head as the ecstasy builds within. You crane your head back, moaning his name. Tom leans down and kisses your neck.

"God, you so feel wonderful" he whispers

"Toomm..." you softly moan his name. Arms grips to his shoulder.

The way he moves makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. It's not just bodies meeting; it's souls folding into each other. The world blurs to the sound of two heartbeats trying to match. He kisses your temple, your cheek, neck, all over. Every kiss is slow, deep, searching—like you're both trying to memorize the shape of forever.

Your hand shakes, not from fear, but from reverence. Every inch of his touches feels sacred, like worship. He takes your hand and intertwine his, holding them beside your face.

"Y/N..." he moans your name as his eyebrows knitting together. Pupils blown with pleasure.

He watches you. The way your eyes flutter closed. The way your lips part. The way your body moves with his like you were made to fit.

"You're so beautiful," he praises.

His hips movement slowly pacing up—

“Godd! Tomm—” you moan.

“You’re mine, Y/N... Tell me you’re mine” he says then groan into your ear.

“Ohh—I’m yours!” You say in between your moan.

Hearing that makes him smile like he just won a the greatest gift of all. “I love you. God, i love you!”

He kisses your lips again. Then have his forehead resting against yours.

"Tom, i—" you try to warn him in between the gasps and fluttering eyes but failing.

"I know. I feel it too" he murmurs back.

“Come for me, Y/N” he says.

The building pleasure too unbearable.

You hold onto him like he's the only gravity pulling you down. You look up to him. Trying to remember every detail of his face of this moment. Lips parted slipping messy hoarse groan. Skin flushed. Sheen of sweat on his forehead. You could see this face for the rest of your life.

“God, I can’t— i can’t hold it—you feel too good” he groans in your ear.

His face burries to your neck.

His entire body shaking with it. Like he's pouring everything he is into you—every pain, every longing, every piece of him he's never shared before.

The sound of him unraveling, does it to you.

And you break too.

The crescendo is slow—like dawn breaking. Your release rolls through you, soft and luminous, your body trembling too as you cry out against his shoulder.

He doesn't pull away.

He stays. Inside you. Holding you close.

Heart to heart. Soul to soul.

But then he gently push himself just enough to meet your eyes. "You okay?" He asks. His gaze looks at you deeply again.

You smile, really smile. You nod. "More than okay," you whisper.

All night long he doesn't let you go. And neither do you.

Your body still tangled with him, you sit on top of his lap. His arms around you. Eyes still locked always on one another. Swollen lips meet every few minutes. Or his lips trails endless kiss all over your skin again. Shoulder, back, neck.

You nearly chuckled when that thought pass your mind. Tom sees the way you try to hold back your smile by biting your lip. “What? What you thinking about?" he softly asks.

You grin. Your nose brushes his. "You're still drunk, are you?"

He chuckles, low and warm. "I'm sober enough to remember this for the rest of my life."

He kisses you again.

And again.

All night.

Until the sunlight of dawn kisses the edge of the horizon—and love becomes something you can see clearly in the morning light.

———

Taglist

@shadowkl10

@anima-patronos

@tom-cruiseisalegend

@sdrose93

@kujolin12-official

@ashdyh321

@sabsthedoll

[multifandomworldsposts]

Day 5 of Kinktober: Getting Caught With Maverick

pairing: pete ‘maverick’ mitchell x fem!reader

warning: protected sex, making out

A/N: this is going to be based on top gun 1 not the new one.

Y/N’s POV

We met a few months ago at a bar that the Navy goes to frequently. When Maverick found out I’m my dad’s daughter, he felt disgusted on seeing a picture of me on my dad’s desk one day. We’ve been sneaking around for a while now and my biggest fear is my dad finding out.

Maverick would pick me up from dance class and the dance teacher would tell him that he’s distracting the class, but the girls in the class would be giggling about it. One of my friends gets suspicious on what’s going on, so I lie about it. I told her that my dad told him to pick me up from dance but he wants me to go to the beach, or going somewhere private.

One night, I spend the night at Maverick’s apartment even though I told my parents that I’m staying with one of my friends. We talked about our personal lives and how Maverick became a pilot.

“Never knew that Viper is your dad.” He drinks his liquor.

“Yeah but, he’s so protective of me, I don’t even know that he’s going to kill me or you.” I said.

“I already know, he’s not going to kill his baby girl, he’s going to kill me within seconds.” He touches my left cheek.

I giggle.

“I love you Mav.” I touch his hand that’s on my cheek.

He just looks at me in lust, he leans into me to kiss my lips, I grab his cheeks to make him lay on top of me. We lay on the carpet to kiss each other. I try to take his shirt off but he stops me. I stop kissing him to look at him confused.

“What’s wrong?” I said touch his cheek.

“You want to go in the bedroom and continue this?” He smirks.

“If that’s what you want to do Mav.” I make us do nose-to-nose.

He gets on this knees and pulls me into his lap, I wrap my legs around his waist, to make him pick me up and took me to his bedroom. He lays me down to the edge of the bed, he takes off his shirt, I unbuckle his belt, he wraps his arms around my body and picks me up to go to end of the bed, which feels so comfortable.

“Mav, are you sure about this? I’m afraid that my dad might check up on you and sees us.” I stop him who’s about to kiss me.

“We just have to be quiet Y/N/N.” He whispers in my ear.

He kisses me again, I tug on his hair which made him moan in my neck, it made me giggle. He stops us from our session to get a condom from his nightstand and he begins to make love to me, I gasp and I scratch his back which made him go faster. I try to be quiet but Pete kept on fucking me too hard, I scream in his neck so it can be muffled. I can’t help it but scream his name, it feels so good I don’t want him to stop. Maverick puts his hand over my mouth so hopefully no one hears me. Fuck! He’s so good at this.

After a while, we lay on the bed heavy breathing. I never been fucked this good ever in my life. He takes the condom off of him.

“Mav, I can’t believe we did this.” I said still heavy breathing looking at him.

“I can’t believe it either, I love you Y/N/N.” He looks at me putting his hand on my cheek again.

“I love you more Maverick.” I smile at him.

2 WEEKS LATER

After a couple weeks later, we made a deal if I’m at the Navel Base we have to pretend that we don’t know each other, which is going to be hard.

One day while I was at school, Maverick picks me up to go somewhere but he said to the front desk people that he’s my cousin picking me up. God he’s really good at pretending. We go to the beach walking around and he kisses me like we were dating for years.

When I got back home, I see my dad pretty pissed about something.

“What’s wrong dad?” I said getting my backpack off my shoulders.

“Oh, it’s from work, a couple of my students was playing around in the air, you know, getting into a F-14 and acted like cowboys in the air.” He says looking at me with papers on the table.

“Who was it?” I question.

“These new pilots, Maverick and Goose.” He said looking down at one of his papers again.

I hide my emotions, fucking Maverick.

“I have homework to do.” I try to change the subject.

“In what?” He looks at me.

“In American History, Geometry, and Photojournalism.” I said.

“My god, what’s the Photojournalism homework about?” He says.

“I have to interview on anyone who’s in anything, like you being a pilot at the Navel Base.” I said to him.

“Do you want to come to the Navel Base with me if any of my coworkers or students wants to be interviewed?” He suggested.

“Sure, if that’s okay with you?” I said to him.

“Yeah it’s fine but I need to tell someone at the Navel Base about this and do you have to get a permission slip to do this?” He said.

“Yeah, I have it in my bag.” I get my bag in a chair near my dad’s desk and gave it to him.

He signs the permission slip and I put it in my bag so I can give it to my teacher.

“Thank you dad!” I kiss his cheek.

I walk away with my backpack and my dad says behind me, “Do your homework!”

“I’ll be upstairs.” I said back.

It’s been 2 hours since I started my geometry homework, my teacher gave me to do, it is so hard and frustrating!

I hear pebbles on my window I go see what or who it is. It’s Maverick. I open my window quietly.

“What’re doing here?” I whisper yell at him.

“Came to see you.” He whispers.

“My dad is downstairs and he’ll actually kill you.” I whisper at him.

“I’ll be quick.” He smirks.

“Mav- I have homework to do and I don’t have the time to talk to you.” I said.

“I just wanted to give you this.” He kisses my lips.

“We’ll talk more sometime soon okay, I have a lot of work to do okay?” I whisper in his ear.

“Fine. You want me to pick you up at school again?” He smirks.

“I’m scared that the school will call my dad about me being absent from school and I’ll get in trouble.” I whisper in his ear.

“Fine. I just wanted to see you baby.” He whispers in my ear and climbs out of room.

I close the window and lock it and I go back to my homework. My dad doesn’t check up on me until dinner time was ready.

I eventually went to my Photojournalism teacher and she gave me a slip to give my teachers so they know I’m at my dad’s work. My dad told his coworkers that I’m going to interview anyone at the Navel Base and they all agreed on it.

My dad drove me to his work and I kinda get nervous, Maverick will be terrified if he gets anywhere near me when my dad is around. My dad and I go to his office and his coworkers tell me that they haven’t seen me in years. One man said that he hasn’t seen me since I was 9, god that long ago? When I went into my dad’s office, some pilots looked at me like they never saw me before, even though I met some at the bar when Maverick and I met.

“Y/N. Come with me.” I hear and it’s my dad.

I follow him to one of the classrooms, Pete is in there. I try to keep myself calm and went in with my dad. Maverick notices me but kept his facial expression the same.

“This is my daughter, Y/N, she’s needs someone to interview and I was thinking maybe one of you could offer the interview.” My dad says and a bunch of the pilots raise their hands.

I choose Maverick, I can tell he’s excited but kept that expression that he had when I entered the room.

My dad and his some of his coworkers made us go into an interview room. I notice there’s a camera, fuck! Now I’m just scared about what’s going to happen.

“So, Maverick? I have questions for you, if that’s okay?” I said in a voice that Pete has never heard before but went with it.

“Yeah, um, what’s the questions?” He said getting comfortable in the seat.

“I have a lot but if you want me to say a few questions you can tell me.” I look at the paper of questions and then back at Pete.

“You can ask them all to me.” He smirks, that fucking smirk from the night a few weeks ago.

“Alright, um, when did you decide you wanted to be a pilot?” I ask.

“I was about, 12 years old when I wanted to be one, I became obsessed with planes and on what happens to the planes, you know?” He says.

I write down what he said to me and asked him more questions and wrote them down as well. When we were done with the interview my dad took us out of the interview room and he said that mom is going to pick me up.

While I was waiting for my mom to pick me up, Maverick comes up behind me and hugs me.

“Maverick, you know that my dad will kill you.” I said to him.

“He told me to stay outside with you until your mom gets here.” He whispers in my ear.

“Are you telling me the truth?” I look up at him.

“I’m telling you the truth, he wanted me to stay out here and why didn’t you tell me that you were coming out here?” He looks down at me.

“Remember what our promise was? We can’t act like we know each other if I come out here.” I said making his arms release from me.

“You know I can’t remember that bullshit.” He sighs.

“Mav- I’m scared my dad might find out about us.” I said.

He looks at me with an expression that says ‘I’m sorry.’ I know he forgets about things, but I don’t want my dad to find out about us.

My mom picks me up and Pete opens the door for me and my mom and I drove off. I told her what I did at the Navel Base.

“That guy who opened the door for you, is he one of your dad’s students?” She said keeping her eyes on the road.

“Yeah, I interviewed him and I got good answers from him. Dad wanted him to be with me when you were picking me up.” I said to her.

“I think that’s the guy who was doing stupid things in the air.” She says.

“I believe so. I really don’t know, I think it is.” I said to her. Trying to cover my ass.

“Those are the type of men that I’m afraid of you dating with.” My mom says.

Oh god.

When I got back from school, I had to go up in front of the class and say who I interviewed and what we talked about. I did what I was told. Eventually I got an A on the interview and I’m so happy! I told my parents and they obviously were so proud of me, including my siblings.

I told Pete about it, he was so happy for me. He kisses me, which I miss so much. He wanted to celebrate me with the good grade so we had a little dinner at his apartment.

“I never knew that Mel’s had a good burger.” I said wiping my some food off my lips.

“I eat there all the time with Goose.” Pete says about to eat a fry.

I chuckle.

“I can’t believe that I got an A on that assignment, I thought it was going to be a, maybe a B-.” I said.

“Don’t say that Y/N/N, I think the reason why you got an A because of me.” He smirks.

I throw a fry at him playfully. He laughs at me.

“No wonder, I chose you Mav.” I giggle.

“Did you show a picture of me?” He says about to drink his drink.

“No, I wasn’t allowed, my teacher made me just talk about the interview.” I said.

“That’s kinda dumb.” He said.

“Most of the kids in the class are my friends and they personally know my dad so, they might tell him that they saw us together.” I made a good point.

“That’s a good reason.” He eats his burger again.

“Told you.” I said and Pete laughs.

“I’m stuffed, how about you?” He said lightly throws his napkin on the plate he has.

“Yeah I am.” I said.

“Can I clean the dishes for you?” I said grabbing my plate.

“Let me do it Y/N/N.” He takes my plate away from me.

“No let me do it, I have siblings, I do their dishes all the time.” I said grabbing my plate out of Pete’s hand.

“Fine. Tell me if you need help, okay?” He said giving me his plate.

“I will.” I said walking to his sink and started to clean the dishes.

I feel arms wrapping around my waist, I giggle. Maverick tries to help me but I try to stop him.

“Mav I got it.” I keep on trying to get him away from the dishes.

“You’re doing it wrong babe.” He wraps his arms around my body to try to kiss me.

I look up at him and kisses his lips. He moans in the kiss, I kinda giggle in the kiss. I turn around to face him to kiss him better.

“I love you Y/N/N.” He whispers in my ear.

“Make love to me pilot.” I wrap my arms around his neck.

He looks at me, he picks me up to put me on the counter. I wrap my legs around his waist and set my hands on his neck. Those innocent eyes looking into mine, I kiss him, we began to make out, he takes me to his couch. I still have my legs wrapped around him. He stops kissing me to do nose to nose, he makes me so happy it’s insane.

After making out on the couch he takes us to his bedroom. We made love differently this time, he gave me love bites, I gave him some love bites as well. He takes us to the nearest wall and he fucks me on the wall, which is so different from our fuck sessions.

We hear the doorbell rings so Maverick put a robe on and checked who it is, it’s my dad. Fuck!

“Have you seen Y/N?” My dad says.

“No I haven’t, I think she’s at one of her friend’s house.” Maverick says.

I run to his closet and shut the door, oh god! I can’t believe that my dad is trying to find me.

“Why is there two cups on your coffee table?” My dad says.

I whimper.

I hear walking around the apartment and I put my hands on my mouth to make me quiet. I see my dad in the cracks in the closet door. My dad approaches the door and opens the door and sees me naked.

“Maverick!” My dad screams.

I see Pete’s face, he looks terrified.

“Y/N-.” My dad looks pissed.

“It’s not what it looks like.” I said whimpering.

“It looks like my daughter naked in one of my students closet!” My dad yells.

I want to disintegrate right here, right now.

My dad looks at Pete and I, looking defeated.

“How long has this been going on?” My dad says to me.

“A few months ago.” I confess.

“A few months ago!” My dad said.

I try to cover myself with one of Pete’s shirts and my dad looks at Pete.

“My office at 8 AM and Y/N! When you get home, you’re going to be punished as well!” My dad talk yells at us.

When my dad leaves Pete’s apartment Pete and I looks mortified.

“I’m sorry Mav, I know that you being a pilot is important to you.” I walk over to wrap my arms around his neck.

“I think the most important thing right now in my life is you.” He softly rubs my right arm.

“I love you, if my dad is going to make you leave the Navel Base, I’ll leave with you.” I said.

“Y/N/N, you can’t leave with me.” He said.

“I want to.” I make us do nose to nose.

We stayed like this for a while and I give Pete a peck on his lips.

“I love you Y/N/N.” He says.

“I love you too.” I said.

[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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[rainbowsuitcase]

I'm gonna cry, someone please tell me if Maverick calling Ice "sweetheart" during sex is ooc or not before I lose it

[bloodwrittenballad]

wips / what’s next (in no particular order)

bad idea right? | ex!gf ellie williams college au smut

yours, mine, ours | super possessive and jealous!bradley bradshaw smut

part one of the “think i need someone older” mini series | pete mitchell smut with a juicy age gap and forbidden romance

bleed me, drain me, suck me dry | lestat de lioncourt, biting and blood kink smut with our favorite slutty vampire???