#top gun: maverick headcanons

[amysteryspot]

Hi Ari! How are you? For the emoji asks, would you provide a 😤 (jealousy) headcanon for Rooster?

Hey Lee! I'm doing good, babe. How about you? Hope things are doing fine. Of course I can. Let me give you my two cents on jealous Rooster.

I think jealous Bradley can be very different depending on the situation. He can be the quiet type, that stays in the corner bubbling with anger but holding himself together because he doesn’t want people to notice how he is feeling—which doesn’t works really well because he to me it is very easy to see how he is feeling; or he can be the type to pick up a fight for nothing and ending up saying very hurtful things without even noticing.

Emoji prompts

[oh-great-authoress]

“Beware of an old man in a profession where men die young.”

So, even when Ice is promoted out of flying full time, he's still going to have to retain his classification as a pilot, at least for a few ranks. To do this, he is going to have to book so many hours in the cockpit a year. Which means that Ice will, most likely, be trained on the Super Hornet when the Navy retires the Tomcat.

What I like to imagine: Ice, in his 40s with at least two stars, attending a flight school refresher to learn the F/A-18, along with mostly young punks. Ice doesn't say anything; he's the ranking officer in the classroom, but he asks the instructors to just sit on that information. The kids think it's funny he's in there, call him Pops, ask him how he's going to keep up with them. Ice doesn't say anything.

They're about to go up for their first more complicated maneuvers, and everyone's suiting up. The instructor passes Ice and a few other students in the hangar, and says, "Hey, go easy on them."

The kids laugh. Say they can't make any promises.

Instructor looks at them over the top of his sunglasses. "I wasn't talking to you."

The military term for what happens next is rapid dominance. None of the kids ever make fun of Ice ever again.

[dearsnow]

12:29 AM

- your normally sober husband comes home drunk out of his mind after a party, and you can’t say that he’s any less sweet. (robert “bob” floyd x wife!reader, fluff, honestly one of the cutest things i’ve ever written, ⚠️ obviously heavy themes of alcohol and being drunk, sexual innuendos but nothing graphic)

word count: 1,502

a/n - i haven’t written a fic with a timestamp as the title in… (checks old blog) over three years?!? in any case, i hope you guys like drunk!bobby as much as i do <3 he’s definitely an emotional/clingy drunk imo.

It’s not often that your husband stays out late, and it’s not often that he doesn’t text you while he’s out, but you trust him. He’s not the type to get blackout drunk or come home stumbling through the doorframe. Robert Floyd is a clearheaded and strong man.

Well, he looks neither right now, as he’s supported by Jake and Javy’s arms, glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose and a dopey smile brightening his face. Jake looks at you apologetically— as apologetic as he can get for a situation that’s likely his fault. “Sorry, hun.” He huffs, shifting around Bob’s weight. “There were a few too many fruity drinks ordered, and I guess he didn’t realize they were full of alcohol.”

“You guess?” You ask, rubbing the space between your eyebrows with your fingers. The two more sober men lead Bob into your bedroom, half-dragging him. They lay him down on your shared bed with a softened thump that has him groaning on top of the sheets. “I can’t believe you guys.”

Bob went out with the rest of the squad for some coworker’s promotion celebration, and he promised to come home perfectly sober, as always. He doesn’t even need to promise, if you’re being honest, because that’s just how he is; the most levelheaded person in the room. He would stay until it was socially acceptable for an acquaintance to leave, then he would head home and help you cook dinner to your favorite old school tunes. You never expected to see him shitfaced at 12:29 AM.

Javy shakes his head as he steps around you, taking Jake for a clean escape. “We tried to warn him. I hope he feels better in the morning, but until then, we’re gonna have to leave him with you.”

You sigh, eyebrows just as pinched as they were before. For the first time ever, you’re scared that Bob is going to die in his sleep, and the thought frustrates you to no end. “Thanks. It’s so great that he’s drunk out of his mind, but I have to give you credit for getting him here in one piece.” Your tone is sarcastic enough to get the two men cringing in shame, but you also know that without them, he might still be at that party.

Jake pats you on the shoulder. “Good luck, soldier. You’ll need it.”

With that, Javy and Jake walk out of your bedroom, past your living room, and out of your house like they couldn’t wait to leave. As you hear them close the door, you look down at your husband.

He’s still conscious, thankfully. His eyes are slightly unfocused, he’s blushing like a madman, and he’s groaning lightly, but he’s not completely gone yet. You brush the damp hair away from his forehead and he whines just a bit.

“Wife.”

You quirk your eyebrow in confusion. “Yes?”

“I… have a wife. Y’ can’t touch me like that.” He mumbles. It feels like he’s looking past you. Despite everything, you feel like laughing.

You adjust his glasses on his face and lean over him a little more, fully in his field of vision. “I am your wife.”

His eyes widen like he’s seeing you for the first time, and he smiles crookedly. He tries to sit up, but only manages to prop himself up on one arm as he takes in the sight of your face. “S’ pretty. You’re really my wife? My girl?” In combination with the slurred words of someone down in the cups, the slight southern accent he took so much time to push away is coming back as he speaks to you.

“Yes.” You confirm, kissing him on the cheek. He somehow smiles even wider and reaches out to touch the apples of your cheeks.

“Love you. I missed you.” He mumbles. “Spent that whole party wonderin’ when I could see you again.” He flops back down onto the springy mattress, throwing his arms up. He moves with the precision of a toddler, his limbs seemingly coated in lead. He almost smacks the glasses off his face as he motions to you with grabby hands.

“I missed you too, honey. Can we get you into your pajamas? I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in jeans and a polo.” As you ask that question, his fingers are already attempting to pull the shirt off of his body. It doesn’t work very well, considering he’s still laying down, but you appreciate the effort. “Sit up, my love.”

He sits up, winking at you heavily. It’s more like a slow blink with how long it takes him to do it. “Can’t wait to get me naked?”

A laugh escapes your mouth, and you smother the rest of your giggles with the heel of your palm as you gaze at his slightly crestfallen face. He’s funny when drunk, apparently, even when he isn’t trying to be. It’s like seeing him completely unhinged with none of his usual, careful filters. “Sure. You need to be in some state of undress to get your pajamas on, anyways.”

His face falls into a slight pout as you help him unbutton the top of his polo and slide it up his chest. He seems to notice how your hands hesitate when meeting the warm, taut skin of his abs, and the pout fades instantly. “Like it?”

“I always do.” You hum. He does have a great body, one that you’ve found to be extraordinarily hot. Strong arms, tight muscles, and yet a gentleness in the way his hands hold yours. Right now, though, it’s a bit of a problem as you’re attempting to get his jeans off. He’s still sitting, and you think you could lift weights for ten years and not be able to pull them out from under him. “Can you stand, Bobby?”

“Gladly.” He sings. You help him stand, supporting a bit of his weight. He seems to find a little bit of his footing as his other arm presses into the wall, allowing the both of you to shimmy his pants down his legs and kick them to some unknown corner of the room.

You gather his neatly folded pajamas, a soft shirt and some plaid flannel pants, and help him put them on. Luckily for you, he’s been revitalized by your touch and is a little more helpful now. He’s still moving awkwardly and shifting around like he’s constantly trying to get his balance straightened out, but it’s better than nothing. It would be hell to get him to do anything other than dress, though, so you settle for just getting him in bed. His dental hygiene routine will have to wait.

You lay him back down after he’s dressed and pull the blankets up to his chin, kissing his forehead gently and tucking his glasses in your dresser drawer. You’re already ready for the night (the perks of thinking he would come home three hours ago), so you slip in bed next to him. He immediately pulls you into his arms, his body comfortingly warm. He’s always run just a little hot, which is amazing on cooler nights like this.

He sighs contentedly before moving to stare directly into your eyes. “Y’know,” he starts, “I can’t sleep without your arms ‘round me, and your legs ‘round me, and you breathing all sweet on my neck. ‘M up all night when I’m deployed, at first anyways. My carrier roommates hate it.”

You shift just enough as to where your body is clutching on to him as tight as possible, and he hums in relief. It’s like the little tension that he was holding dissipated entirely. “I’m sorry, baby. That must be hard.” You soothe.

“Payback gave me his pillow once so I could wrap it in my arms, but it didn’t help. He threatened to ‘come up there n’ cuddle me himself’ if I didn’t stop moving.” He scrunches his eyes closed at the memory. You do your best to suppress another bout of laughter, but he makes it even harder when he shivers like he isn’t covered in three layers of blankets and you.

“Did he ever follow through?” You ask, pressing your lips together to stop from smiling. Bob shakes his head.

“Thank god he didn’t.” He utters. You turn to shove your face into your pillow to muffle your expressions. He just keeps his eyes closed, completely unaware of the fact that you’re losing it next to him.

When you finally come up for air, he is drifting in and out of sleep. “Love ya. G’night.” He whispers. It’s so soft that you almost start laughing again.

“Good night, Bobby. Love you too.” You say, kissing his cheek. You click off the lamp on your bedside table and snuggle deeper into his grasp.

He’s going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning. At least he’ll have his wife, breakfast in bed, and an aspirin to take care of him.

Taglist: @seitmai

[xihe1874]

All right. So I rewatched Top Gun: Maverick yesterday and I had some quite angsty realisation that I have to share with all of you. You are welcome.

You remember in TG:M, how Mav tended to speak to himself when flying? Little pep talk such as "Come on Mav", "Let's try not to get fired at the very first day Maverick", "You've got this Mav"?

Well, if memory serves me right, he didn't do that in the first movie.

Why's that?

My take on this is: The person(s) used to exchange the talk, the encouragement, the quip, the endearment with him, poking fun at each other while watching each other's six, are either dead or dying.

"You've got this".

("You've got this, kid." Duke Mitchell smiled to his son.)

"Let's turn and burn."

("Let's turn and burn, Mav!" Goose shouted excitedly behind him in an F-14.)

"Let's try not to get fired at the first day."

("Let's try not to get fired at the very first day as instructors, huh, Maverick?" Ice shook his head with resigned fondness.)

"Come on!"

("Come on Mav!" Goose swung an arm around his shoulder, his voice warm and kind.)

"You've got this".

("I've got you. I've got you, babe." Ice whispered and tightened the embrace while Maverick clutched his lover to his body.)

So he had to say all of those to himself, to pretend that all of them were still with him, to bring all of them all the way across the ocean, the wind, and the sky.

[lulunothulu]

“Yes, sir.”

Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: Bob is known to be the sweet and shy one of the Dagger Squat. Little do they know, as soon as he comes home to you, he sheds that persona—but only for you.

Content: 18+ smut, some fluff, a hungry Bob 😏

I feel like it’s canon that Bob fucks so let’s let him fuck us…for science 💗😇 Enjoy!!

Robert Floyd was many things. Shy? Yes. Quiet? Sure. But he was not one to leave his girl longing for anything. That’s why when you’d texted him, asking him to come home straight after work, he didn’t hesitate to make sure he did as soon as he was dismissed for the day.

“Baby on board!” Hangman calls out in the locker room. “Where are you going in a hurry?”

“Um, home?” He responds.

“I thought you were coming to Hard Deck with us,” Bradley says, poking his head from behind a locker door.

Fuck he said that didn’t he?

“Sorry,” he smiles. “Can we rain check?”

Hangman smiles, a knowing look practically shooting out of his eyes. “It’s your girl isn’t it?”

Bob only blushes, stammering, “Wh-why, well, umm…”

“Don’t worry,” Hangman smiles and winks at him. “My Darlin’ is the same way. You go get to her.”

Bob almost choked on his saliva, Bradley does it for him and causes Jake to turn around in surprise.

“What?!” Bradley asks when he’s calmed down.

“‘What’ what?” Jake asks back. “You didn’t know baby on board had a girl?”

“Nat told me about her but I thought she was pulling my leg,” Bradley responds.

Bob can hear Jake tell him something but that’s when he steps out of the locker room and heads toward the parking lot. Reaching his truck, Bob pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before starting his drive home.

———

Pulling into the driveway of y'all's small home, Bob was anxious to get inside. From the text you'd send him about an hour ago, it sounded like you urgently needed him home after work.

Bounding for the front door, Bob swings it open expecting to see you in tears. However, he finds you seated on the kitchen island in nothing but a white lacy set of lingerie and matching stockings. On your feet are the heels you reserve when you're feeling extra fun.

Racking his brain, Bob tries to remember if there was something important happening today.

His birthday isn't for another few months, yours already passed...an anniversary?

You chuckle, watching your boyfriend try to think of what could've prompted this look.

"Are you gonna mull over what why I'm dressed like this, or are you gonna come over here and kiss me?" you ask, a smirk on your lips.

Bob nods, dropping his bag at the entryway before closing and locking the front door and practically running to kiss you.

"Hi, baby," he murmurs against your lips.

"Hi, Bobby," you respond, smiling into the kiss he presses to your lips.

He pulls away to take you in, admiring the way the flimsy fabric sits on your body.

Bob's navy eyes darken, turning almost midnight blue with lust and desire. "You did this for me?"

You nod, biting your lip and smiling.

Bob's eyes practically undress you as they roam down your body. He licks his thin lips before smiling and taking his glasses off, hooking them on the neckline of his shirt. You watch as he drops to his knee before you, a smirk appearing and face transforming to the alter ego Bob takes on when he fucks you.

"Are my dinner tonight?" he asks, voice deep and gravely. When you nod, he clicks his tongue. "You know I like when you use your words, Princess."

You hold in your smile before finally speaking. "Yes, I'm dinner for tonight. Unless you want something, then I can—”

Bob stops you, kissing the top of your thighs before opening them and kissing from the inside of your knee toward your pulsing core.

"What was that?" he asks between kisses.

"Nothing," you sigh, watching as his eyes slowly raise to meet your own.

He pulls you closer to him, smiling when you yelp at the motion. He resumes kissing up your other thigh until he reaches the thin fabric of your lacy thong.

The sensation of his breathing on top of your pulsing clit makes you whimper, causing Bob to chuckle against you. A chill runs down your spine when he kisses you over the fabric.

"Lift your hips," Bob orders.

When you do, he pulls the thong down, bringing the stockings down with before slowly pulling your heels off and peeling the rest of the thong and stockings off. He throws them to the side, smiling down at your cunt before squinting and pulling his glasses on.

"Keep them on," you tell him.

"They look dorky," he laughs.

"And I like how dorky you look in them," you smile.

Bob's eyes darken behind those circular lenses before he lowers himself back to your core and kisses your clit.

Warmth and electricity ignite from that spot, up your stomach, and then back down your legs. When he licks you from the bottom of your entrance to the tip of your clit, you moan his name.

“Fuck, Bobby,” you say, back arching a bit off the counter.

Bob chuckles, sending vibrations to your clit where his mouth is lightly sucking.

Another thing about Bob…he was a ravenous pussy eater. Once he starts, he won’t stop until you’re a shaking mess under him.

Moving his mouth, Bob laps your entrance, fucking you with his tongue and moaning at the taste of you. His nose continues where his tongue once was, nudging and flicking your clit as he eats you out.

Your hands fly to his hair, pulling lightly and gently moving his face back and forth, hips grinding into him.

You were so close, you could feel the wave or orgasms crashing into the lower part of your belly and you were desperate to let it go.

“Bobby!” You exclaim. “I’m so fucking close! Oh my god!”

Bob continues his licking, the tip of his dick pressing into his pants at the sounds of your unraveling. He smiles into your pussy when you finally come, sweet and tang coating his lips and tongue.

He only stops when you pull his head away from you.

Standing, Bob grabs the back of your neck before kissing you deeply. The taste of you still on his tongue making you smile and immediately feel that pulsing between your legs again.

“Stand up, baby,” he says, voice gruff and sending shivers down your body.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” you smile.

Bob’s hand slapping your ass as he turns you around makes you giggle in delight. You knew exactly what you were doing. You only call him Lieutenant when you were feeling extra and right now…you were feeling it.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” He growls against your ear.

“Yes, sir,” you mutter.

He slaps your ass again, a yelp of delight coming from your lips.

“Louder,” he orders.

“Yes, sir!” You cry out.

Bob squats down, spreading your ass before licking your cunt and up your ass.

“Oh fuck!” You cry out.

Bob kisses up your back, one hand on your waist and the other undoing his pants. He lets you go to pull his pants clean down and stepping out of the pile.

His erect dick presses into your bum, making you moan and grind against it. Stopping you, Bob grabs your neck, kissing harshly.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” He moans in your ear. “That outfit gets me so fucking hard.”

“I feel it, sir,” you tell him.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Princess?” He asks, nibbling on the sensitive spot on your neck.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir!”

Bob lines himself to your entrance, careful to angle himself to a position that’s comfortable for you before starting to thrust into you.

You’re tight. Almost too tight, Bob has to think of something else to keep from coming inside you at that second.

As he thrusts, you clench around him, walls wet and soft around him—making him speed his pace and mutter a fuck.

He can feel just how deep he is, and he can’t help but pound into you harder. The thought of being able to get himself completely in your cunt makes his head swim in lustful damnation.

He pulls out, spinning you around before lifting you in his arms.

“What’re you do—”

You don’t have time to finish what you were going to say because Bob is sinking you down onto his cock, gliding you up and down as he bucks up into you.

“Oh my god,” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“No,” he growls. “Open your eyes when I fuck you.”

You obey, eyes locking on his navy ones and mouth forming an ‘o’.

He smiles at you before moaning. “You look so pretty taking my cock in the air.”

You moan in response, unable to form words. He walks you to a wall, pressing your back into it and speeding his pace again.

“Fuck baby,” he mutters, eyes still on you. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Come on my face,” you tell him.

“Come on my face, sir.” He corrects.

You smile. “Come on my face, daddy.”

Holy shit. Bob was gonna combust right inside you if you keep looking at him like that.

Pulling himself out of you and setting you in the floor gently, Bob watches as you get you to knees, mouth open and eyes still on his.

Pumping the last bit of orgasm to the tip, he spills all over your face with a groan.

He watches as you use your fingers to push his come into your mouth, making a show to swallow before opening your mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he tells you, grabbing your hair and kissing you deeply.

“I love you,” you tell him when he pulls away.

“I love you more, Princess.” He tells you, helping you to your feet before sweeping his arms under your legs and carrying you to y’all’s room. “Now, let’s shower so we can go for a round two.”

Wheeeew…something’s crying between my legs. What..?

Tag: @sweetwhispersofchaos @ginghampearlsnsweettea @caystar13star @shinycupcakebaker @sunsetsimpsblog

[oh-great-authoress]

Those are plausible explanations for Mav and Bob’s callsigns, but I posit these:

Mav: Literally went the wrong way during a flight school hop, without intending to at all.

Bob: Went bobbing for apples during the holidays; brained himself on the side of the barrel.

Top Gun Call Signs

In the actual military, no one has a cool call sign. You get your call sign from your unit, and it’s typically because of something stupid you did. So, by that logic, here are the real reasons for Top Gun call signs:

Iceman - Repeatedly slipped on the tarmac.

Maverick - CO told the unit ‘Dumb Fuck’ and ‘Shithead’ were not acceptable call signs, so Pete got to pick his own.

Slider - Walked in to a sliding door.

Rooster - Clumsy fuck who wakes everyone up in the morning.

Goose - Self explanatory.

Bob - Self explanatory.

Wolfman - Has a hairy back.

Hollywood - Uses a disgusting amount of hair spray in the locker room.

Hangman - Shitty speller.

Cyclone - Did too many barrel rolls and puked.

Phoenix - Crashed her plane/ lit something on fire.

Payback - Loses bets.

Coyote - What’s the most expensive way to kill a coyote? With an airplane. (This actually happened to a real pilot btw).

Halo - Ass kisser.

Fanboy - Owns anime figurines.

Merlin - Plays DnD.

Warlock - Ran the DnD campaign.

[topgunruinedme]

Viper: I don’t know why you have an issue with this. Ice was happy to comply.

Mav: So, what? Now I’m just supposed to do anything that Ice does? I mean, what if he jumped off a cliff?

Viper: If Ice were to jump off a cliff, he would’ve done his due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry. So yes, if you see Ice jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff.

Mav growling in frustration: You jump off a cliff!

Viper: Gladly. Provided Ice does first.

inspired by my mutral.

[outalongtheedges]

Rooster/Maverick: I’m the way I am because my dad died when I was young.

Hangman/Iceman: I’m the way I am because my dad didn’t die when I was young.

Masterlist

[military-newsboys]

Ice: Why would you give a knife to a child??

Mav: Bradley felt unsafe.

Ice: Well, now I feel unsafe!

Mav: I'm sorry.

Mav:

Mav: Would you like a knife?

[oh-great-authoress]

Addendum:

If he sighs when he leans back, you screwed up, but he sees the point, and he’s not really mad at you.

If he sighs when he leans forward, you did nothing wrong, but you’re not going to like what he has to say next.

Admiral Kazansky being the the master of body language.

If you’ve been called into the compacflt’s office when you’ve fucked up, he leans back in his chair. If you’re there when you’ve done nothing wrong, he leans forward.

Maverick know this because he’s been in the receiving end of both

[pollyna]

The funniest thing the whole ordeal is that after the DADT is repealed and they get married, in front of a clerk, with witnesses, their friends and legal papers signed and done, it gets on their files to. They are married, and it's legitimate, and the Navy knows.

Or at least they should know if anybody would bother looking at the general information about them, but nobody ever does because it is more interesting knowing how many times Mav has been grounded or how fast Ice reached the Admirality than knowing when they were born or if they are married.

So, they are as out and about as possible, and still, people are shocked when, during the Navy Ball of 2016, they walk in hand in hand and start introducing the other as their husband.

(It's the first even they even have the time to participate together since 2011, so it's even funnier to see people's reactions when they discover they've been married for five years already.)

[dearsnow]

YOUR BAR BOYFRIEND

- after being harassed by a drunken stranger, your bar boyfriend swoops in to save the day (bob floyd x fem!reader, fluff, reader is intended to be on the quieter/more introverted side, but if you’re not like that you can ignore that one line ⚠️ verbal sexual harassment, drinking).

PART 2

word count: 1,206

a/n - tell a friend to tell a friend… SHE’S BAAACKKKK!!!! i’m so glad to be back to writing, y’all have no idea how much i missed it. i’ll probably be a bit rusty until i find my rhythm, so please ignore the not-top-quality writing until then. also, feel free to send in requests or chat!!

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, I have a boyfriend.” You utter apologetically, side-stepping the arm of the man in front of you. He reeks of beer and a hard day’s work, his scruffy face all too unkept in the lighting of the bar. You can’t even fathom exactly why you’re in the bar in the first place- you’ve never been one to explore, but this man is making you feel like you never want to leave your house again.

Your eyes scan the room, but no one seems to notice your predicament. The bar is full of Navy men, surely one of them would be fine with pretending to help you. “C’mon, sugar, one drink. Thas’ all ya have to do. If it goes well, hey, I wouldn’t mind one fuck either.” He grins, winking. The hope that you held in your heart is quickly dissipating. “He don’t have to know.” You feel your stomach drop as he moves to grab your hand, but an firm grip shoves his fingers away instead.

“Honey, is this guy bothering you?” A voice behind you speaks. You quickly turn around.

“I… yeah.” You stutter. You’re staring right into the face of a guy in a uniform, his jaw set as he glares at the drunk through his glasses.

He moves in front of you, creating a physical barrier between you and the significantly shorter man. Relief floods you. “Then I think he’d better leave before someone kicks him out, huh?”

The intoxicated man rolls his eyes, but frantically shuffles out the door of the bar. His gait was evidently terrified.

The tension is pulled from your shoulders, and you unintentionally sigh. The guy with glasses turns around to face you. His expression is softer now that the threat is gone, and his concern is almost cute.

“Are you alright?” He asks. “I’m sorry for the pet name thing, but I overheard you and I couldn’t really just stand there and watch. I’m Bob, by the way, Bob Floyd.” He reaches his hand out for you to shake, and as you do, his hesitates through his rambling.

You smile at him. “Thank you, Bob, I’m fine. And I don’t mind.” His grip is firm but not crushing, just like his presence. You introduce yourself, and he nods like he’s desperate to commit the sound of your name to memory. The respectful tone is honestly a breath of fresh air with the raucous energy of the Hard Deck, causing your cheeks to be a few degrees warmer when you pull your hand away. Our of the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe his somewhat clammy hands on the sides of his pants.

“Also, I’m sorry for taking the place of your actual boyfriend. I assumed you just didn’t know where he was, so I stepped in.” His eyes search for your own, holding steady eye contact. They’re the prettiest shade of blue you’ve ever seen.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I don’t actually have a boyfriend, but I thought a lie was the better choice. You saved me, and that’s all that matters.” Your voice has a certain breathy quality to it. You’ve completely transitioned from terror to being deeply attracted to the person who spared you an even more intense confrontation. Bob’s eyes widen just slightly.

He takes his hands away from his sides and motions to one of the tables in the corner, his face just the slightest bit pinker. “Would you want to sit down?”

You nod, and he leads the way. As he’s pulling out your chair for you, you can’t help but wonder how your night turned out this way. You went from having the worst night of your life to dizzily encountering the person you could only describe as being your bar boyfriend.

You just recently moved to this part of San Diego for a newfound job opportunity, completely unaware of your proximity to the Hard Deck and a Naval base. You didn’t know anyone or anything, and as someone who isn’t necessarily very outgoing, it was hard for you to adjust. Not even your coworkers were easy to make friends with, so you slowly became more and more isolated.

The bar was kind of your last resort. You didn’t expect to find anything great, and you still don’t know what compelled you to go, but some hidden part of you figured that at least you could get some form of entertainment. Finding Bob, though, you never expected.

Conversation feels easy with him. He seems like a quiet guy, but he knows exactly what to say to keep you talking, and he offers insights of his own that just further the subject you’re talking about. Words fly from your mouths, and you can say that you’ve never enjoyed talking more. You bounce from common topics like work and hobbies to deeper breakdowns of memories and experiences, your smile growing wider every second. You’re completely in a world that was built brick by brick for you and him.

You’re so lost in the moment that you don’t even notice the woman who rests her hand on the back of your chair until she speaks. “Bob, you of all people? Never would’ve expected you to abandon us for a pretty girl.”

Bob reddens as you turn to face her. “Sorry, Nat.”

She holds a hand out to you, which you shake. “Call me Phoenix. He’s my backseater, and apparently a lady killer tonight.”

Bob stands as Phoenix gives him a pointed look. “Sorry to steal him away from you, but he’s taken way too long of a break from our pool game. I’ll give him back to you later.”

“You say that like I’m a robot.” He grumbles, showing just a hint of disappointment at having to leave your conversation.

You wave him away. “Have fun, Bob. I’d better go anyways.”

“Wait-“ he starts as you stand up, “-could I give you my number first?”

You secretly cheer inside of your head. You nod, and he takes a pen out of his shirt pocket. “Here.” He mumbles, writing it on a spare napkin and handing it to you. His fingers brush over yours, sending electrifying sparks throughout your entire body. You could get used to this feeling, you think. His hand hovers for a split second before regretfully moving away. “It’s, uh, it’s up to you, but I’d really like it if you called or texted. I had a nice time with you.”

You tuck the napkin into your bag, eyes soft. Bob thinks he’s never seen a sight so beautiful- the sun is setting behind you, and it casts you in a golden light as your mouth quirks up. “Of course I will. I had a nice time with you too.”

Your voice is quiet, but a sound that he relishes all the same. He could’ve gotten lost in you if Phoenix wasn’t impatiently tapping her foot next to him.

She pulls him away, and though he knows he’s up for a lot of teasing, Bob can’t find it in himself to care. He just knows that he needs to see you again, and you know that no matter what, you’ll make it happen.

[beezelarts]

I recently learned what “tapping out” is.

For those who don’t know (I’m not an expert by any means though): after graduating, the graduates have to wait standing at attention until a family member touches them. I’m pretty sure it’s more of a thing in the Air Force because I haven’t found anything on the internet indicating that it’s also done in the Navy.

But imagine if it was!!! Imagine our baby pilots having to wait after graduating from the academy for their loved ones to come and tap them out.

I’m pretty sure that Bradley didn’t go to the academy but the rest of them?

Just imagine Jake standing there knowing no one’s going to be there for him (family either dead or estranged) and then Javy comes up to him after being tapped out by his family and hugs him. Imagine that this is the moment they went from casual bunk mates to best friends.

[oh-great-authoress]

Slider’s the only admiral who never loses money in this club, because he never makes a bet to begin with.

He calls it the “How F***ing Stupid Do You Have to Be to Bet Against Ice Club”

Random Admiral: Hey Kerner, we’re making a bet on when Mitchell’s going to do something crazy and what, you want in?

Slider: Nope, not going there.

Random Admiral: Why?

Slider: Ice and I’ve flown with Maverick and known him for decades.

Slider: You’re just going to end up losing money to my pilot again.

Two days later in a confrerence room…

Random Admiral: *looks dejected*

Slider: So, how much was it this time?

Random Admiral, grumbling: Fifty bucks.

What if all the admirals have a secret club where they make bets on how long it will take for mav to do something menace-like and what said menace-like thing he does.

It’s called the ‘we keep losing money to iceman’ club, because ofc ice knows his little wingman better than everyone else.

[xihe1874]

I really really need an Icemav fic where they had been together in secret for quite a while before going to Top Gun together.

As soon as they found out that everyone mistook their tension as a different kind, they decided to bet on (like they always did) who would be the first to give their true relationship away. And instantly started white-hot competition.

So like, we will have the same locker room scene, but:

Ice's "I don't like you" actually means "I love you instead"

Mav's "Ice... Man" is because he uses the endearment habitually, and then rushes to add the full name.

After Layton, they can't help but kiss each other, right in the centre of the crowd. And that's what gives them away.

So they both lose. And both win.

[streetsweepershenanigans]

Maverick is 100% one of those people who memorized how to solve a rubix cube and can do it behind his back in like 5 seconds and refuses to tell Ice how he does it just to see his face. (He does teach Jake, though, and the cycle only continues.)