I just have one tiny tweak I wanna make to that last scene. Otherwise no notes, A+ game.
[image description: A five-panel comic shows a ginger cat walking out of a dark, overgrown alley and up some mossy stairs into the sunlight. The small drone the cat is carrying in its mouth gleams in the sun. After reaching the top of the stairs, the cat places the drone onto the mossy ground and sits beside it, looking up at the sun in the sky.]
pairing †robert "bob" floyd x little sister!reader
genre †angst(y fluff??)
summary †you gave bob his call sign
âââ
Bob knows how unimpressive his call sign is. It would have saved him a lot of teasing and jokes and awkward situations if he had just chosen a different call sign. There was a story behind âBob,â one that he told very few. It was personal and it still hurt to talk about.
Maybe it was the relationships heâd formed with those around him, or maybe it was just the alcohol, but whatever it was, it possessed him to finally tell the truth behind his call sign when Phoenix made some good natured jab about it.
âActually, it was my sisterâs idea to have my call sign be Bob,â he spoke up. âShe gave me the nickname Bob because when she was little, she couldnât say Robert. It just kind of stuck.â
âSo thatâs what it is? A nickname your little sister gave you?â Rooster asked.
âThatâs adorable,â Phoenix cooed.
Bob laughed. The three of them were down the beach some distance from the Hard Deck, sat in the sand and just talking away from the crowd. That thingâthat confidence or security he felt around his two closest friends pushed him on.
âI only got into flight school after she died and um⊠I donât know, it was like a way to memorialize her. Make sure Iâd never forget.â
Phoenixâs smile fell, face softening. Rooster closed his mouth around whatever tease he was about to make.
âShe was always my biggest fan. She believed in me when I said I wanted to joined the Navy when a lot of my family didnât. When things got hard I could just think of her and how much I didnât want to let her down.â
Waves washed gently onto the shore. Rooster and Phoenix said nothing as Bob took a moment to collect himself.
"She was my best friend, my biggest supporter. I always said she was too good for this world. Maybe something somewhere finally agreed."
"Hey," Phoenix called gently. "I'm really sorry Bob."
"Yeah, she sounds amazing," Rooster agreed.
"She was." Bob wiped at his face quickly. "She um," he laughs, "she would do this thing where she'd call me Bob "Bob" like you do, Phoenix. It was just a joke really and I know she'd make so much fun of me for actually doing it but... I don't know, it just felt right."
Warnings : Top Gun Maverick Spoilers, Character death, angst if you squint, fluff
Synopsis : When the news of her father's death arrived, of all people that turned to her comfort, Bradley was the last person she expected to console her.
"You're joining the navy ? Are you insane ?"
"Like father like daughter ?" She raised her brows, smiling at the admiral.
Tom "Iceman" Kazansky stroked his chin, eyeing his daughter who he knew had so much potential in becoming a pilot. He had always wanted his daughter to figure out life on her own, it was against his parenting rules to push her into following his footsteps but there she was in front of him, telling the 1985 Top Gun graduate that she wanted to be just like him.
She's a wild with a free spirit, the admiral's daughter was always breaking rules, she was always getting into trouble, getting into fights, going home with injuries and cuts here and there made her earn a few scoldings from her parents, especially her mother saying things like "you're a girl for God's sake !". Tom Kazansky knew she got that from him and as she grew older, he knew there was nothing he could do to change her as a person.
He would always scoff, his daughter was a living copy of his friend, Maverick. The only difference between those two is their ego.
A smile began to form on his lips. Standing up from his seat,
"It's gonna be a long journey ahead, Kazansky"
"Tom ! What are you thinking ? She can die out there ! She's not like you !" His wife complained, practically shouting to him to change his mind, only if he knew how many sleepless nights his wife has suffered over the years with the fear of the naval officer pilot not returning after a mission.
"I think you underestimate the power of the Kazanskys" He chuckled snakily, pulling his daughter into a hug.
"You're gonna be one hell of a pilot, sweetie"
'Y/N Kazansky'
'Frosty'
A call sign that slightly resembled her father's.
People in the navy said she got it from her 'cold' personality, but she would always disagree. In fact, she gets comfortable with people easily, except one man.
Bradley Bradshaw, AKA "Rooster".
She could remember being the best of friends with him throughout middle school, at some point she had a crush on him. That was until he sold her out to the principal, earning a suspension from school when she was defending a bully.
"Violence is dangerous, Kazansky, YOU'RE dangerous." He told her.
They became sworn enemies ever since, exchanging snarky remarks and insults to each other and by the time the two of them applied to the navy, she didn't want to lose against him.
But, there was a turning point.
Her heart dropped hearing that Bradley's papers were pulled from other applicants. She had thought that they would've been in the navy together.
In terms of who pulled his papers were kept from her. Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell did not want her to find out that Maverick was the cause of Bradley's career postponement.
She remembered staying in the corner of a room alone after the news of the successful applicants came out.
'Bradley didn't deserve this' she thought.
They were enemies, yeah, but it was only to his eyes. Did she hate him ? no. Does he hate her ? probably.
She was over the snitching thing after a month, but it looked like Bradley doesn't want to be her friend anymore as he gradually started avoiding her.
That's when she thought that he was going to make himself regret for letting her go and the competitiveness began.
On the other hand
There was only one person Bradley hoped would see him. He thought that she was at least going to comfort him and put their problems in the past. He was ready to start fresh with her but she never came to see him.
Y/n had only stopped being competitive because there was no one left she wanted to beat so bad. Never once had she ever meet him during those times she was in the Fighter Weapons School.
This was the point which made Bradley think that their friendship was done for good. He had developed this mindset that the only reason why her papers weren't pulled was because of her admiral father.
He scoffed at the thought, 'It's a good thing she has a father'
Little did he knew, when she let her guard down because of him, he ultimately became ahead of her over time.
Lieutenant Kazansky eyed her name tag, sitting inside the locker room alone with a drooped posture, her face turned downwards towards her uniform.
The news of her father's incurable illness had just reached her.
She closed her eyes tightly, releasing a deep breath. A tear slid town from her eyes, her hands still grasping her uniform.
Crestfallen, she realised that her father's days were numbered.
"It's okay if you want to take some time off and spend the rest of the time with your father, Kazansky"
She wiped her tears, hearing her superior's voice. Turning to face him, she quickly stood up and replied him.
"No sir, with all due respect, I have a duty and a country to serve, I would appreciate it if I have the chance of continuing my job, sir"
"Very well Kazansky"
She rarely see her father after the news broke out, she didn't want to see him in that state, even speaking hurts, her mother told her while begging her numerous times to come home and she did, sometimes.
Each time she gets home and meet her sick father, They would always have a heart-felt conversation and the proud smile on his face would always reappear when his daughter comes home.
He would always smile looking at her in her uniform, eyeing her name tag which resembles to his. 'Frosty' and 'Iceman'. And she would always break down after each visit.
She went home again the time she was called back to Top Gun for a mission.
"I've been called back, Dad"
Tom Kazansky turned his body to type
'I know'
"So you were the one who recommended me to them ?"
Tom furrowed his brows, typing onto his keyboard again
'Of course not, they wanted the best of the best'
"So you didn't do anything ?"
'I told you, you're gonna be one hell of a pilot'
"What if I don't come home ?"
Tom immediately shook his head
'you must. I put my trust in someone I know who will make the mission a success and bring you all home in one piece'
"Will he be there ?" She asked her dad, He raised his brows and in an instant he knew who she was talking about.
"You still like him don't you ?"
"Of course not !" The younger Kazansky knitted her brows, glaring at the man in front of her. She was in denial, lying to herself and everyone but she knew that deep down she had feelings for Bradley Bradshaw
"You can lie to everyone, but not me."
The admiral stood up from his seat, walking towards his daughter who was still in uniform, Y/n stood up to help her father which he declined.
Iceman patted his daughter's shoulder with his palms, smiling again. The proud look that would never disappear whenever he saw her. He grabbed her hand to stroke it.
"you two...should...rekindle"
"I want...a grandchild...before I go"
Y/n playfully hit her father, earning a chuckle from him.
"I have a question, dad"
Her dad eyed her, to ask what it was
"Who's the better Kazansky ?"
Iceman chuckled, opening his mouth to answer
"We'll answer that...when you get home...."
He then pulled his daughter into a tight hug, a hug so warm and welcoming that she did not want it to be over.
"Good luck....sweetie"
-----
The moment that she saw him enter from the Hard Deck's entrance, she could immediately recognise his face even when he was wearing sunglasses.
He became more attractive over the years she didn't see him. He definitely grew taller and his shoulders grew broader. He had a clean, neatly trimmed and tidy moustache that suited him, and the Hawaiian shirt that he wore only made him even more charming.
It was the same for him, when he stepped into the bar, the first person he could spot was her. She became more gorgeous, her striking features of her face were captivating, her smile is magnetic, making himself almost forget the time when his heart raced when she smiled at him.
He hate to admit but he missed her, so much.
"Bradshaw" she greeted first
"Kazansky" The flat tone that he used to reply to her was a sign that he still didn't like her. He was nice to everyone but her...and Hangman.
Years of not seeing each other, They were still avoiding each other.
"You got beef with Bradshaw ?" Hangman asked her, opening a bottle of beer then passing it onto her
"Just some old stuff" The two of them eyed the man who was heading for the piano.
"Well it doesn't look like 'just some old stuff' when he replied you"
"Get off my ass, Hangman" she rolled her eyes at him when she could recognise the familiar chords on the piano that Bradley was playing.
She knew this song anyway.
'You brought my wheel, but what a thrill'
'Goodness gracious great balls of fire !"
The whole bar cheered up as they started singing the song which included Kazansky who stood close beside Bradley. For a moment, for one night
Every differences between them were put aside, enjoying themselves for one night, one night before they were snapped back into reality.
One night before their training for a highly intense mission started with Maverick as their instructor.
That night was before Hangman decided to expose Bradshaw and Maverick that he was flying with Nick Bradshaw AKA "Goose" When Bradley's father died.
"That's enough !" Maverick yelled, attempting to break out the fight that almost occurred.
She was one of the people that held Rooster back. They weren't on good terms, neither were they talking to each other but Hangman was out of the line.
The night at the Hard Deck was before Phoenix, Bob and Coyote almost lost their lives.
The evening that they went to the infirmary, She decided that she needed to get closure from Bradley, she thought that they should be working as a team and having beef in between them in highly unprofessional and childish.
She overheard a heated argument between Maverick and Bradley that hindered the two of them from having a conversation.
"Kazansky" Her superior, Warlock called
"yes sir ?"
His face was gloomy, full of sorrow. He had this look of sorrow that was written all over his face. With a heavy heart, he broke the news to her.
"It's your father"
She knew. She instantly knew what had happened. She immediately knew that he was going to tell her that her father has passed away.
A hush fell as she hung her head lowly, her eyes filled with tears that escaped, staining her cheeks. She blinked away the tears, only for it to blur her vision, letting out a deep breath, replying to Warlock
"Thank you...for telling me sir..."
Her superior then went to the room beside where they were standing to break the news towards Maverick and Bradley.
The two men stepped out from the room after a heated argument with a tragic news.
He could see her from the corner of his eyes, she was standing still, eyes looking at her foot with her fist closed. His eyes softened, he could only imagine what she must be going through. He knew what it was like to lose a father. Bradley knew how close Y/n was with her father.
She turned to face him with her tear stained face, His heart ached to see her like this, to see her miserable face. Y/n walked away from Warlock, Maverick and Rooster towards the locker room where she would be alone, isolated.
The atmosphere of the locker room which used to be light and bright became so silent. Seating alone in darkness, she recalled her last moments with her father .
"Good Luck, Sweetie"
That was the last time she could ever meet him, talk to him, hug him...
She knew that his days were numbered, she knew that he didn't have a lot of time left but what she didn't expect was death being so cruel.
Bleakness completely engulfing her. She felt her throat closing up, sighing heavily, letting her head drop, She buried her face into her palms, the tears continued to stream down.
Tom "Iceman" Kazansky is dead.
-----
She wasn't a soldier that day. She was a daughter.
The tears that were on the edge of her eyes only dropped when her mother received an American flag and when his casket was lowered down.
Then she was alone again after the funeral, she said she wanted to be alone to her mother.
"You'll always be the better Kazansky, dad..."
Looking at his grave stone, she could hear a familiar voice rung through her ears
"Still here ?"
She wasn't alone then...
"Spare your insults for another day, Goddamit Bradshaw"
"I'm not here for insults, Y/n" He took of his peaked cap, taking a step closer to her.
"Your father was a good man"
"He was..."
His eyes observed her facial expression, the wind blowing on her face, the weather, dark and gloomy, he could see her clearly and up close after years of not seeing each other.
Grief.
That was the only thing he could see from her.
The two stood by beside each other, there was a moment of silence between the two of them before she spoke up, still looking at the admiral's headstone.
"Why are you still here ?"
"I don't know" He answered
"You don't know ?" she scoffed, asking him a question
"You know what were his last words to me ?"
"'You two should rekindle' was what he said" It was only at this time did she turn to eye him.
"I tried to understand it, I tried to...I knew he didn't- he didn't have a lot of time and I-, I didn't want to see him so much after finding out, I couldn't- I couldn't-"
Bradley listened to her, his eyes were soft and he was attentive. He noticed that her eyes were getting wet with tears.
"Shit, I didn't get the chance to say goodbye to him" she chewed her lower lip, then she just mumbled incoherent things through her hands and choked on her sobs.
Bradley gambled his whole life on the next thing he was about to do.
"Come here" he walked towards her, closing the space between them with a hug from him. Bradley stroked her hair gently as an act of comfort.
His mother did this to him when his father died, it was his turn to comfort someone he cares about.
"Let it out, let it all out" He spoke tenderly while she began to sob harder on his chest, tears of pain running down her cheeks.
This was the first time that they hugged in probably a decade. No, this hug was different. All the times they hugged before, it was playful, this time she felt warm, like a blanket wrapped around her, a feeling of complete comfort. She felt safe around his arms.
"I'm here...I'm here even when I can't make it better..."
Be Still My Indelible Friend | Female Bell! Reader x Jason Hudson
A/N: Hi!! I am back with a rare oneshot! This takes place after the reader, aka Bell, who doesn't know what is real and what isn't without Hudson around, the house becomes a warzone in as Bell fights for her life against Adler. Hudson witnesses the aftermath of it. Please beware I didn't edit this at all and said fuck it. (1.8k words)
You glanced outside the opened window, feeling a warm summer breeze gently glaze over your icy yet sweaty skin. Your labored breathing began to calm down at the sight of his car shifting into park and the headlights turning off. He slammed the door shut, walking over to the passenger seat and grabbing his briefcase.
Hudson.
His name seemed to be synonymous with safety.
His face was devoid of his usual aviators, his appearance looking a little less tidy than usual. A loose necktie, slightly wrinkled shirt with the top few buttons left undone, an evident five oâclock shadow, and an atypically worried grimace smeared across his face, this time looking even more disgruntled (and more tired) than usual.
You heard the keys jingling as he went to unlock the front door and and despite the original relief at the sight of his car, you couldnât help but feel an impending sense of dread at what his reaction could be to the dead body of Russell Adler laying on the floor, his blood starkly contrasting the perfectly white tile of the kitchen.
âBell!?â Hudson yelled as he swung open the door, placing his briefcase down, normally you wouldâve been awake at this time of night, all the lights would be on and youâd be cooking a late night dinner for the two of you. Instead, his house was a disaster area, throw pillows were scattered around the room, the rug was wrinkled and folded over itself, and drips of blood and bloody footprints your size dotted the hardwood.
âFuck.â He muttered to himself.
He silently reached into his briefcase, readying his M1911 (which he had always kept handy since Vietnam), flicked the safety off, and began creeping forward into his house. For such a large, stocky man such as himself, his footsteps were eerily quiet, a by-product of his over twenty years as a CIA agent.
Hudson pressed his back against the wall adjacent to the kitchen entrance, peeking over, only to find there was no danger after all, just you sitting on the floor, with a bit of blood seeping from an injury in your hairline to your temple, as well as glass dug into your feet. He then stood at the archway leading into the kitchen, the expression on his face was a far-cry from what you expected, instead of anger or fear or even both, it was simply just concern for you. His eyes completely ignored the dead body of one of his former colleagues. Hudson turned the safety back on on the weapon, placing it back into his briefcase where it belonged.
âBell, what did you do to yourself?â He asked, walking right over Adlerâs corpse, kneeling in front of you and taking your bloodied arm into his hand.
âA-Adler, h-heâ You sniffled, your breathing becoming more and more labored as you began to regale what just happened. âH-he attacked m-me. Iâm sorry, I didnât want to kill him.â You pointed over to Adlerâs body, and Hudson glanced over. He turned his gaze back to you, his brows furrowing.
âThereâs no one there, Bell.â
âWhat do you mean??â You looked at Hudson in utter disbelief before a moment of realization hit you. âOh. I did it again, didnât I?â
He pursed his lips, grimacing while nodding. âCâmon, get up.â Hudson hooked his arm underneath your knees, lifting you up. The both of you suddenly became acutely aware of how much your legs were shaking.
âHere.â He said quietly, steadying you and lifting you onto the counter with ease. Despite not having participated in field work for over a decade now, Hudson was still remarkably in shape. Even in his most exhausted, emotionally-charged moments, he still remained steadfast and unbreaking â indelible to the core.
If only that were me.
âHold me.â You sobbed, and he felt his heart practically break at your tone. He pulled you into his arms, not caring for the tears staining his shirt as you shook violently in his arms. Hudson shushed you, rubbing circles on your back to calm you. Slowly, the shaking began to cease, and he pulled back.
The both of you paused, staring at each other with sad eyes. Even in the dim light, you could make out the rare tear that had formed on the side of his cheek.
âIâm sorry.â You choked out, wiping the singular tear from his face. âYou deserve better. Someone who doesnât make you cry. You shouldnât have saved me.â You sobbed, and in one fell statement, you had shattered Hudsonâs heart once again. âYour life would be easier.â
âNo, no. Donât say that. Donât you ever say that.â He gritted his teeth and shushed you, cradling both your cheeks in his large palms, thumbing away at the blood dripping from your temple, attempting to soothe you and not caring for your blood that now stained his hands. âSaving you on that cliffside was the best thing I ever did.â
âYou saved a nameless terrorist. You choked out.
âNo. I saved you.â His hands gripped your wrists now, the look on his face almost pleading with you. âThe strongest woman to ever have ever given me the pleasure of her company. A hero who saved millions.â
âI donât feel very strong.â You sniffled. Hudson scoffed.
âYou wouldnât be here with me if you werenât, or even be here at all.â He paused for a moment, rubbing up and down on your exposed arms, hoping to give you some kind of comfort and grounding and to somehow, just maybe, make you understand the truth in his words. âIf Iâm being honest, most people, if they had gone through what you have been through, wouldâve killed themselves by now.â
âIsnât that what Adler would want? At least, thatâs what his voice is telling me in my head everyday.â
âDonât.â He said sternly. âYou know damn well-â Hudson paused, sighing at the realization at how harsh his tone had become, and a brief moment of quiet hung in the air.
It had bothered him because such a statement was outright false. Adler didnât know you were alive (And Hudson intended to keep it that way), but he saw the silent guilt carried on his shoulders at Langley. Not that he had ever confided in Hudson about this, but it was clear in the way he was more observant, the constant look of displeasure that had originally carved itself onto the manâs face in Vietnam became even deeper, the smoking habit had worsened. It all started after you.
âYou are not his puppet anymore. He cannot control you. He did not break you.â Hudson broke the silence, finally finding the right words.
âThat psychiatrist would disagree.â
âStop joking around, okay?â Hudson sighed, exasperated, no matter how much he loved you it was still hard not to get annoyed when you were so callous about your own trauma. âYou are unbreaking. Even through all of this, you have not been broken. Cracked, maybe, but still whole nonetheless. I need you.â
âYou donât need someone who just fought with a hallucination.â You laughed, finding a sort of dark humor in all of this. âYou donât need a brainwashed terrorist who can barely take care of herself at this point.
âYes I do, and you are not a terrorist. You are more than MK-Ultra, you are more than your trauma.â He asserted. âYou just need some help.â
âI need a helluva lot more than that.â You mused, laughing softly. He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. âDo you think if I hit my head hard enough my memories would come back?â
âShut up.â He chuckled, âLetâs get you cleaned up.â
Hudson grabbed a rag, wetting it slightly and holding it against your temple, dabbing lightly to clean up the residual blood, relieved that the wound had finally clotted and was no longer gushing blood. Itâd be hard to explain another ER visit to the VA. He also grabbed a pair of tweezers and gauze from the junk drawer, plucking out shards of glass and wrapping your feet in bandages.
âFollow my finger with your eyes. â He held up one finger, swaying it to and fro, making sure you didnât sustain any brain injuries that would only exacerbate the problem. You did as he asked, and he nodded his head in approval. âYouâre fine right now, but take it easy tomorrow, âkay?â You nodded glumly, and he silently worked on cleaning the blood away from your hands, bandaging them up with gauze.
He paused for a second, his gaze fixated on your face, and in that moment, he could feel every single feeling he had ever had for you began to resurface.
Funny, because Hudson hated you and everything you represented at first. He really did think you were some terrorist, but during his time at Die Landebahn, doubts started to cast a shadow of his previous simplistic viewpoint. He couldnât comprehend how you, of all people, could be capable of plotting the death of hundreds of millions of people. There had to be something else at play.
âSometimes I wish we were back at that safehouse.â You said, your voice meek and quivering, but you kept eye contact with him, your eyes looking at him with what seemed to be something almost akin to affection. âThings were easier.â
âI would hardly say that.â He chuckled lightly, his hand absentmindedly resting on your thigh as he seemed to inch closer and closer. âI hated your ass.â
âI was happy.â
âNo, not truly.â Hudson pursed his lips. âYou know that just as well as I do. You were brainwashed, Bell. You didnât know any better.â
âThey say ignorance is bliss.â You shrugged.
âWell âtheyâ are idiots. I like you the way you are now, because on the occasion that you are happy, I know itâs you and not some programmed robot version of you.â
âIâm happy when Iâm with you.â You whispered and offered a small but sweet smile. Hudson felt a blush creep into his cheeks.
âMe too.â
Your noses were practically touching now, your mouths only inches from each other, open in anticipation and your eyes both closed.
âKiss me.â You sniffled.
âYes maâam.â Hudson obliged your offer, practically crashing his lips into yours in a rough, sloppy, but unmistakably loving kiss. He could feel your tears pressing against his cheek but he could hardly care at the moment, he was far too invested in his moment.
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