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iznsfw · 10 months

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Like a Feather From a Swan’s Broken Wing

LE SSERAFIM's Nakamura Kazuha x Male Reader Smut

7,468 words

Categories | agent!You, ballerina!Kazuha, cunnilingus, daddy kink, spanking, fingering, slight bondage

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This is a commission in which I was given the task to write literally anything I wanted (thank you!)

“The art of pleasing is the art of deception.”

— Luc de Clapiers

The gun’s in a steady direction, only looking forward. It’s aimed at the dark, at wherever the partners of the man you’ve been hunting for months might hide. On the darker side, you wish that if there would be anyone coming out, it would be the man himself so you'd be able to shoot him. He's the source of more headaches than you could count and the one who keeps you up late at night, and never for a good reason.

It's the selfish part of you speaking. You shouldn't let that interfere with the operation.

You're in uniform, wrapped head to toe in camouflage green. It feels heavy on your skin, but that doesn't stop your determination. You'll carry the weight of your uniform before you carry the burden that is him, who prolongs the operation, leaves your coffee powder short, and keeps the nation in distress.

Today, you'll catch him, once and for all.

Look around briefly. The night covers you completely, and hopefully doesn't cover the enemy, too. You only take a flashed look; quickness is a skill you once were unlearned in but developed later into the senior years of your profession.

Physical strength is another—the door meets the ground with a harsh thud after you kick it down. Training isn't easy by any means, but it's worth it. Hopefully this mission is the same as well.

Teamwork is a skill you learned, too, for like a flock of crows, you and the squad enter the warehouse. Altogether, they're shouting. They call for the victim (add an "s" for plural form, if necessary), telling her she's okay. Everything's going to be alright, they say, no need to worry.

However, they promise a much bloodier end for the kidnapper, who's probably lurking in the shadows.

"Come out now!" Yunjin shouts. She's frightening when she's angry; her brows are downturned and her fierce eyes are locked onto any movement. Hands on her gun, she's always prepared. "We're not going to ask again!"

"Scan the whole place," Sakura, your leader and chief, commands the rest of your team. The hate for the man glistens in her eyes; for her fierce predator looks, the team often dubs her as the cat of your group. "Don't leave one stone unturned."

The cramped warehouse is emptied out by the sounds of boots on the stairs. You take over the mission half and half: you, Sakura, and Yunjin on the first floor and Chaewon, Wonyoung, and Minju on the second.

Your half of the team knocks over the boxes. They spill out packing peanuts and hints of drugs packed in Ziploc bags. Doors fly open and welcome you into empty darkness. Above you, you hear the newer ones in the squad yelling. It's an amateur habit, but maybe it would work. Maybe it would finally draw the criminals out to justice, and all of this would be over.

But, of course, when they run down the stairs with faces devoid of any recognition and your face mirroring theirs with disappointment, it's clear that this whole thing is far from its end.

In fact, you're only at the beginning of a long, uncertain road.

Thread twisted around pins lead to everywhere but the answer. You've been staring at the billboard for too long, trying to piece together the olden newspaper scraps and sticky notes, but there's nothing. Any signs of an answer bring you to nothing. Each path, strung by thread and yarn of colors signifying this and that, draws to a dead end.

If you don't work harder with your team, Bae Suzy would be dead, too.

So why haven't you caught the abductor yet?

You and your team sit at the rounded table. They look solemn, and perhaps a little irritated. You can't blame them—the mission you thought would be the last became another one to the list of failed rescue operations.

They're getting tired of this, and if it were any other case, they'd let go of it. But this is Bae Suzy you're talking about—she's famous, reputable, and intelligent. She's an accomplished actress, a loveable idol, and an excellent model. All of these make her the treasure of many high-class individuals who’d pay billions and fans who'd give their lives to have her back, so you have to go through. Whether you like it or not, that’s how the story goes.

Your boss, chief Miyawaki Sakura, crosses her arms sternly. High curved nose, straight-set lips, and eyes that never failed to scour through the team, she nods at you. It doesn't take a sign language translator to get what she means: start talking.

"The mission was aborted due to fallacies in translation and sources," you say. You're using your classic, signature neutral tone for meetings like this one. There's an edge to it today, though. No one dares to tell you about it. "One of our sources translated the location and transferred the information to us incorrectly, hence bringing us to another failed operation."

Your teammates nod. Sakura sighs, pinching her nose.

"Due to this," you continue, slapping down on the table a picture of Bae Suzy, in which she smiles charmingly and waves to a mass of reporters, "we must conduct further readings into the case to ensure that the information is accurate. For Bae Suzy, and for us."

Another series of nods from across the room. Most of them are half hearted.

"So, do any of you have a proposal as to where the kidnapper is now? And where he might have brought miss Bae?"

The quiet Kim Chaewon raises her hand. She used to be the one who brought and made the coffee, but after she helped you solve a cold case during her night shifts, you brought it upon yourself to let her join the team. She listened to the seminars well and was excellent in the training. She had potential, is what you're saying, so you're more than glad to hear from her side.

"I believe the kidnapper is a dancer. Maybe he’s brought her to a studio."

"That isn't relevant," says Sakura, venom in her voice. It’s wholly unintended for her to lash out at the new member of the squad, but her exhaustion is getting the better of her today.

Chaewon blushes. "I believe it is, chief," she retorts timidly. "He left ballet shoes and leotards in the last operation. It might lead us to his location, especially if he's the sentimental type."

"And you say that after we ransacked an old man's warehouse? After he thought we were little shits playing soldiers and looking for some coke?"

“B-but the operation was your idea!”

"I launch all operations, honey," Sakura informs her, smiling with fake sweetness. "What do you do?"

"Sakura," you warn. Your words are tight. You don't have it in your soul to deal with her feistiness today. Any other day you would have let the bickering go on, but the failed mission has downed your spirits.

Silence passes around the table. Wonyoung's looking around, waiting for someone to speak. Sakura's staring daggers into the flushed Chaewon. Minju and Yunjin are as quiet as they can be.

Let the silence ferment with acknowledgement: "Thank you, Chaewon, for your input. Any other ideas?"

"I believe Chaewon is right,” Minju pipes up. “We received a letter from the suspect after the operation.”

You smile, both at the good news and the fact that Minju is, so far, the prettiest out of the squad, and doesn't have only a pretty face but the good wits to back it up, too. That's part of the reason why you love welcoming her point of view, but a letter sounds interesting. Probably even more interesting than getting close with Minju, a thought you entertained more than you should.

“Were there fingerprints?” you ask.

She hands you the letter, which is wrapped in an envelope with newspaper and magazine letters carefully pasted on its front. “No. He probably used gloves.”

You carefully rip the hood of the envelope upwards and pull out the folded paper. You then read it out loud:

"To the police, agents, and detective teams—

"You won't ever find me. I float through the crowds unseen. I glide through the lake of circumstance like a swan. I bring her along, and though she's a kitten scared of water, she's mine now. Forever.

"It would take years before you're even able to save your precious little Suzy. It might not even happen at all.

"For that reason, although I abhor you more than you'd think for you all are built on a system of lies and corruption, I offer you this clue:

"I have flown to other nations where my flock calls for me in our garden. Will you be able to shoot me down?

"Soar with me,

"The One Who Dances, A Flame Eternal."

It must have taken hours to cut out all those magazine letters. That's one thing you'll commend the abductor for.

"'The One Who Dances,'" says Wonyoung in awe. She realizes that Chaewon was right about him being a dancer. For someone as young and new to this side of the profession, it’s like watching a thing straight out of a thriller movie.

"'The One Who Dances,'" Sakura repeats, but in a more sarcastic tone than the interested girl. She scoffs. There's a smile on her face that’s amused despite the situation. "Boo, what a fucking nerd. Did he take up human sciences or something?"

"That's not relevant," you tell her, avenging Chaewon (and defending yourself, too, because you also studied human sciences. That's not fair. You aren't a nerd.)

"I’m telling you, those essays they make those kids do rot their brains. Oh, and shut the fuck up. This is why you aren't a team leader."

Choose to ignore her. "I… I just don't get it," you say hopelessly.

Your hair is thin between your fingers as you crawl your digits into it. They're tense, just like you are. You've been tight and stressed through the whole investigation process, in fact, because you've rolled through every possible location: a school, a secret hideout, an old building. None of them are occupied by the criminals. None of them have Bae Suzy.

"We're getting there," replies Yunjin softly. She pats your shoulder and looks at your billboard of pictures and clues, too. "We already know Suzy's being held captive. We just don't know where."

She's lying. That's what friends are for: to lie to make you feel better in situations where it's impossible to be. In that case, Yunjin’s an excellent friend because you're getting abso-fucking-lutely nowhere. It's been one failed rescue mission after another, and it doesn't seem like the next one would be successful either.

"That's the problem, Yunjin." Twirling the black ocean of coffee with a teaspoon, you point to a newspaper clipping thumbtacked to the west side of the board. "Last time, they said the kidnapper took her to the USA because she was seen at the airport."

You rise from your swivel chair to tug out a printed screenshot of the CCTV at said place, and raise it for everyone to see. It shows the timestamps and Bae Suzy looking scared as she stares into the crowds.

"But then she went back to Dutchland," Sakura adds.

“Correct.” Take another grayscale photo where Bae Suzy waits unwillingly at the airport, and tap on the sign at the very front of the line she's in that says the name of the country. "The sources are just as confused as we are."

Yunjin's furrowed brow quirks. She picks up the folder and goes through it. The papers reflect in her black-rimmed glasses. "Why would she be in Dutchland?"

"Because," jab a thumb into the picture of Suzy again, "Dutchland means something to the kidnapper. He wouldn't have gone with Suzy there for nothing. It risks everything."

Dutchland is the main setting of the case, actually. Everything begins and ends there. Everything you know about the kidnapper lies in the note he addressed to the police, issued by Minju earlier.

Wait—

Pull out the kidnapper's letter again. It's impossible to mistake it for anything else even through the mess on the table when it's smoother than the other scratch papers. The identifying marks are your fingerprints from pen ink branded onto the thin piece of parchment.

Open it, rolling it out on the table like a mantle. It's a mantle of clues you run your finger on. Flown to other nations… soar with me… our garden… The One Who Dances…

Your breath catches in your throat. "Chaewon," you say, looking up at her, “you’re a fucking genius.”

One Leaf Academy is a rich, well-established school for aspiring ballerinas and professional dancers alike. There can't be any other the abductor was referring to. There's only one particularly famous ballet academy in Dutchland, and since he's mentioned that he was the one who danced, this was it. The "garden" mentioned in the letter helped map it down to one location.

It looks good even from bird's eye view. You can see it properly without the pane of a window standing in the way. When you’re part of the squad, flights aren’t taken on planes. Instead, you use helicopters, government-owned and government-approved.

It took only two days for Dutchland to issue an agreement to let you through the borders. They love Bae Suzy, too, apparently. They love her so much that the process went by quickly and you weren’t even stressed about it. There’s more things to stress about later on, but there’s no use in lamenting the future when the present is already good as is.

The green helicopter lands in the forest behind the school. It camouflages among the leaves and trees, giving you the freedom to hop out of it as noisily as you’d like.

Twigs and branches snap under your feet as you do, and you have to catch Sakura to stifle her trip.

She slaps your hands away and brushes down her dress, as if your touch ruined it. "Keep your fucking hands to yourself."

"You're welcome, Sakura," you say, shrugging.

"Can you two please stop fighting?" Wonyoung asks. Her delicate voice, irresistible even to the hardhearted Sakura, ceases the argument before it could continue.

Pull the ridiculous blazer they made you wear on and look at the team. "Everyone ready? You know your jobs?" you ask.

"I'm the mother," says Sakura spitefully. She glares down at the gradient dress assigned to her. "I'll pretend to take pictures and talk to you through the phone."

"Who's the baby daddy?"

"For once, I beg, shut the fuck—"

"Guys," Wonyoung repeats with a more pleading voice.

Sigh. The fight was on you and it's up to you to end it as well. So, turn to: "Wonyoung?"

"I stay behind and watch out for suspicious people," she replies, back to her usual bright but professional self. You hope she doesn't lose the shimmer in her eyes years down the road of being on the investigative team. You'd hate for her to go through what you had to deal with.

"Yunjin?"

"First round of backup with Chaewon unnie." Yunjin taps the gun hidden in the loop of her jeans.

"Minju?"

The girl blushes. "Look for Bae Suzy," she says in a small voice. She looks pointedly at you. "And you?"

"Find the abductor." Look down at your shoes and wonder if they'd ever experience a trip that isn't about work. "Put an end to everything."

Everything's been fleshed out already. There are backup plans of backup plans, earpieces hidden on the sides of your head when the need to communicate comes. This is how it usually is with undercover work.

You ponder, for a moment, and think if it would forever be like this: a game of cat and mouse, always led on but never going through. It just fuels your passion to find Bae Suzy once and for all.

"Remember, this is a recital," Sakura informs all of you. She points to the backdoors of the ballet academy, which suppresses classical music from the inside. "We have to fit in. Don't drop your cover."

She looks at you and narrows her eyes. “Even if somebody tempts you.”

"Operation One Leaf, launched immediately."

You enter the recital with the subtle earpiece strapped to your lobe and your steps light. You carry your posture well, and with the suit, draw looks from the other parents and from children, too. They're wondering if you're the owner of the place, or maybe you're a well-dressed teacher? A wealthy father? They'll never know because you won't dare tell them.

Regard them with a cold yet polite nod and walk through the sides of the chairs. There's not much of the audience left, but you still have to play your part.

You lock eyes with Minju, who steps into the recital wearing preppy yet casual wear. Mouth her good luck. She smiles, but proceeds into the backrooms without another word. Right. She plays a part in the mission, too. You shouldn't disturb her.

"You're here, agent," she says anyway, tapping onto her own earpiece. Her voice rings in your ear. "Break a leg."

Sakura gets in a little while later. As per her job, she pulls out the communication device disguised as a phone and lifts it to the air, "recording" the dancer on the stage.

Blend in with the crowd as you will. You're a little embarrassed by the attention you draw with your suit since the whole thing is supposed to be undercover, but there's no going back now. You have to act the part.

So: stride confidently into the room, never looking down. Take the first seat you see at the very front and look at the performance.

That's kind of how it all started: a look. It wasn't supposed to be anything else, but yes, one single look keeps you hypnotized, not just because of the dance, but the girl who performs it.

She might as well be a swan in disguise. She's got this resilient, princess-like look on her face that's more alluring than it should be. Even her hair serves her royalty; it elegantly floats around her neck and shoulders as she prances and twists.

The uniform, a long-sleeved blouse finished off with a flattering tie and a flowing skirt, doesn't hide her gracefulness. She moves in it as if she were the swan lake herself. Her movements are as fluid as can be. Each rush and lift of her leg guarantees an upskirted moment in which you're allowed to bask in the beauty of her legs and the fullness of her butt, and you know you shouldn't look. You're better than that; you shouldn't let a young, pretty girl stall your job, but there you are, front seat at a recital for professional senior high ballerinas, hypnotized by a ballerina's dance.

You have to snap out of it. You have better and more important things to do than mentally undress a pretty dancer, yet your eyes are glued on her. It's like your vision was programmed to catch every twirl and glide she makes across the platform, to relish the poke of her chest through the blouse that's a little too small, to yearn for her.

The music is just a dreamful background to her. You're dazed. Hypnotized. Locked into a passive position because of her.

You want this ballerina. You can't do anything but look and want and long.

It's almost heartbreaking when her performance ends. She bows deeply, and you swear she's fired you a wink right before she rises up again.

You have to get to know her. You want to ask her out, maybe even escalate things further on the first date if she’s willing. But you have a mission to do. The squad and saving Bae Suzy come first.

Regretfully, you stand from the monobloc chair and turn your heel. But then there she is, dressed in perfection and uniform, and looking prettier up close when she shouldn't be that close but she is close and you swear one more centimeter closer and you'd be closed up to her lips.

"Hi," she says, casually.

That deep voice, fuck.

Wait, when did she get here?

"I, uh, hi? Wait, how did you… why are you—"

"Please." She rolls her eyes, sets a hand on her tiny pinch of a waist. "Did you think you weren't obvious staring me down?"

"Well, uh—"

(What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you stuttering and stammering and stumbling over your words like you aren't more mature and older than her? How could she say that to you and disregard that fact?

You couldn't be assed to know, but she's intimidating you in a whole different way: making you feel like the platform she dances on by acting sweet but not too sweet, flirty but not over the top. That's what you know, but here's the problem: you have little idea what to do.)

"Calm down," she says. She's a tall girl, but smaller enough to smooth down your blazer and close it softly around your chest. Her eyes are enticing. "I'm just playing with you."

Swallow. Try to collect your composure back into a neat pile, but it overflows and ceases. "Excuse me," you say, voice shaking, "do I know you?"

She pushes out her pink bottom lip, bites it, then shakes her head. "It's Kazuha, if that rings a bell."

"If I didn't know your name, Kazuha," you say, "I'd say I recognize you from somewhere."

"You do?"

"Yeah." The more you talk, the more she looks like Bae Suzy. "You, y-you kind of look like someone I'm looking for."

Kazuha guides you with a hand around your wrist and walks you to the backroom. You have no sense of direction when your eyes are sealed onto her gorgeous face, perfect with their brown eyes and sculpted nose. It's a tour guide to danger, and you don't even know that you're hiking.

"Is she your wife?" She rubs the back of your hand with a thumb, looking at you with such authentic concern that you almost fall for it. Almost. "Girlfriend?"

"No." Breathe through your nose. "Just someone I have to look for."

Slam. The door shuts, and now you're effectively pinned upon its wood like a poster. Amazing how a woman smaller than you could do you like that: have you weak at your knees as she keeps you on the flat of the door, stares you down with no hatred in her eyes, but sultriness. You don't know how you pick up all those clues when she's not speaking, but Kazuha, as you come to find out, isn't like any other girl. She's known her whole life to speak through her body, and the message from her hands pushing you into a flattened position and her leg propped next to your hip is clear.

You’re not sure if you want to open her note and read it.

"Tell me," Kazuha says, chastely, although her actions are anything but, "am I as hot as her?"

Your eyes widen. It's utterly unprofessional; you as an agent shouldn't even begin to engage in a conversation about how the victim's sexually attractive when she might be in the most vulnerable place right now.

Stutter again. Broken words become a new language you're fluent in, and might as well be a native speaker of with how much Kazuha learned you into it. You have her slim, hot body pressed up against yours to thank, and the look in her eyes. The tilt of her pretty little head. Her subtle, knowing smirk.

"I can't talk about that with you," you say, because it's true—you can't. You have a mission to do and your morals to keep.

"Sure you can," Kazuha counters. Her eyes glimmer. "I'm the top student in One Leaf. They basically made me a star when they knew that my name meant 'one leaf,' too. Isn't that funny?"

"What's your point here?"

"The point is," she says, leveling your gaze, "if I fuck you right here in this room, they wouldn't give a damn."

She has a hold of your hands, imprisoning them and trapping them on the slopes of her sizable chest. Your breath hooks on nothing and is released incompletely. Kazuha's breasts are so soft, not the biggest but fill your hands up so well that you'd take them over any other pair.

Have to resist the voice inside you telling you to squeeze. "What are you doing?" you ask.

"Tell me, what do men like you want?"

Kazuha curls your hand into her flesh so that she's making you squeeze—

"Tits—"

—then leads it below her pleated skirt, lets it cup the globes and touch places that should otherwise be left untouched—

"—or ass?"

Both are tastes of heaven. The two choices are soft yet alluring. But you really shouldn't, though you want to rip that skirt clean off her legs and spank her till her cheeks are red. She deserves that for tempting you, for being such a bad girl when she's otherwise excellent at being a ballerina.

"I can't talk to you about that," you have to repeat. But it sounds more like you're convincing yourself rather than her.

Oh, and she's far from being budged.

Kazuha pulls you by the tie and drags you to the nearest monobloc chair. There are plenty of other seats just like that here in the utility room, but she chooses to throw a beautiful, toned leg over each side of your hips and sit on your lap instead. Her ass snuggles your crotch and her legs keep you trapped onto the chair.

"What about now?" she asks.

Then her hips start to sway—it's another coax for you to drag out of your shell and do what you shouldn't. It's another dance besides ballet that she knows well, and you can tell from how her thighs flex and bounce underneath your touch, she's very good at it.

"K-Kazuha… fuck—"

"Come on." She's straight up dry humping you, dragging her perfect pussy up and down your growing erection. Her eyes and mouth both pose a challenge: "Tell me I should stop. Tell me you want to do anything that isn't to fuck me."

Kazuha rubs herself on you. She uses your clothed cock as a personal toy for a few delicious seconds, then rises from your lap to unbutton her blouse. One by one, they undo themselves and the pale skin of her chest is revealed. There's her small cleavage. A collarbone carved from perfection. Her beautiful chest. Too much is what it is, yet your perverted self can't stop gawking.

You remember Sakura's words earlier. She told you not to drop your cover, not to get tempted. You dislike Sakura, yet it's her warning that ignites your hesitation. She suspected that you'd fall like this. She was only trying to hold you back.

"Well? What's gonna happen then?" Kazuha crosses her arms. They frame the underside of her tits, a perfect picture. "Do you want to go out there and find some stupid girl or fuck the one on your lap? What's it gonna be, daddy?"

You're not a daddy kink type of person. In fact, you don't really have that much of a sex drive. Intercourse and the like are things you have no time for when your job is like this, much less a discovery of a daddy kink.

So why is your dick so much harder now that she's said it?

Why are your hands on her hips?

Why are you carrying Kazuha's lithe form and placing her right on a desk?

Why are you kissing her?

When your lips and hers meet, an apocalypse is birthed. An apocalypse of sex, hunger, and desire breaks out. Your eyes are closed, yet your hands and Kazuha's own know exactly where to touch and hold. She unbuckles your belt and pulls down your pants. You slide your greedy fingers over Kazuha's perfect buttcheeks. Tug off the ridiculous shorts that saved her performance from being pornographic. Rip off the panties that are sticky with need.

"Oh, ohhh, you like that?" Kazuha moans while you kiss her neck and chest. Don't bother to rip off the uniform when it looks incredibly sexy on her fit body. "You like me calling you that, daddy?"

"Quiet. We're making this quick."

"So you do want to fuck me."

Thighs touch your lips when you make your way down. Or is it the other way around? Whatever, the point is that Kazuha's thighs are a delicacy. They're full yet sculpted and would look great looped around your head. Luckily, you find that the sopped core between them is more delicious.

Lick a line from the bottom of her slit right up to her bundle of nerves. "Who says I want to fuck you?"

"D-daddy!" Kazuha gasps, covering her mouth.

"You're quick to call me that." You kiss the insides of thighs then start trailing your tongue around her clit. On top of it. Under it. Each side is subject to immense pleasure. "Where's the shame, little dancer?"

"Right on with the nicknames."

You splay Kazuha's pink lips and stick your tongue in between them. Her hips buckle forward. Her eyes are all wide and eager and needy, and it takes a few more thrusts of your tongue to have them shut.

However, it doesn't take a lot for Kazuha to moan. Her voice is tinged with deep tones, and they pronounce out prolonged cries as you toy her cunt with your tongue. Her thighs threaten to crush your head, but, if anything, you'd welcome it. You're happy to be trapped in between her luscious legs and keep the feminine scent of her pussy right up close. Her juices could be your water, the food would be her core itself—you're already eating it like a meal anyway.

"Of course. If you want to play games, I'll give in." Toy with her clit, then proceed to give it harsh sucks and slurps that her lower body spasms. "I'm just playing along."

Kazuha bites on a bated breath and beats the table with a bent hand. "What if I'm not playing around, daddy?"

"Hm?"

"What if, fuck, I'm not playing around?" She pushes you deeper between her legs and wraps them around your head. She toys with the sides of your ears. "Maybe I like fucking people who obviously shouldn't be doing it. Maybe I like calling a hot man daddy. It just feels so good for me. Did you ever think about that?"

And maybe you like fucking a girl who's a hindrance to your mission. Maybe you like eating out her wet cunt, driving your tongue deeper into the soaked fuckhole, and doing everything you wanted to do to her when she was onstage.

But all of that is just one maybe after another. As far as you're concerned, you don't actually like doing it, yet when Kazuha whines and squirms like that, your mind is quickly changed.

Self-discovery, you guess.

"So do it," you challenge her. Look up at her while you quickly rub her clit. "Call me daddy."

"Daddy, hngnnn, fuck, daddy!"

Kazuha's pussy creates the most obscene wet sounds. Your index finger doesn't rest; it fires away at her clit, her most sensitive spot, and urges it to become more swollen. More sensitive. More desperate.

Push her other leg up for more access. As you expected, it effortlessly rises. Who knew that her years of dancing as a professional ballerina would translate well when eating her pussy? You love how her thigh quivers and tries to stay upward while you eat her out. That's one thing ballet didn't teach her: to stay stabilized when there's a tongue and finger assaulting her center.

"Are you usually this wet, Kazuha? After you dance out there with your legs and thighs out for everyone to see?"

"No, no, I'm not wet! You're, hnnn, daddy," her eyes lose focus and she rolls her head back, mouth gaped, "oh, fuck, daddy, I'm gonna cum!"

Start to jack yourself off to the unholy, R-18 scene of Kazuha approaching orgasm. Is it a known thing that ballerinas are the most beautiful when they cum? If not, it should be, for Kazuha's blissful face—eyes shut, mouth wide with moans—and her shaking legs enchant you. They draw you into her and have you rubbing and tapping at her core to coax out more euphoric reactions from her.

Slip your fingers inside her. Be greeted with a fountain of liquid and scent. Appreciate how tight she is when it's only your fingers in her.

"God, daddy, not there!" Kazuha screams. Have to dodge a few times for her kicking and flailing legs to miss your face. "I'm so sensitive there, oh no, you can't—oh, fuck—daddy!"

Her deep voice thrills your erection, and you could have cum on the spot with her if you were more focused on rubbing her orgasm out. A bit of squirt stains your fingers, but you end up getting more stains of girl cum on yourself as you go on fingering and rubbing.

Kazuha rubs her own nipples as she settles down from her high. "That, that was—daddy—"

You hush her. There's no time to talk. You unravel Kazuha's tie and wrap the little gray thing around her wrists. You knot them tightly after you wring her arms behind her back. She watches on with confusion, wondering why you're suddenly being so horny.

If she asked, you'd explain that it's because of her. Who else could be the culprit when she's there with her incredible thighs and perfect, fuckable body? When she's the feistiest little thing who just turns out to crumble if the right guy crosses her? Everything about Kazuha seems to be designed and fabricated to tempt you, and look at you giving in.

"You're tying me up, daddy?" she asks, tone varying between disappointment and excitement.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

She's so cute, really—she closes up to you with the biggest eyes of hurt and want, with her slim lips curved downwards into a pout. "You have to fuck me," she says, like it's a promise you made that she's been waiting on to be granted for a while. "It's not fair. You can't even fuck well, daddy, and you're tying me up? You must be joking."

Scoff. "I wasn't so bad at fucking when I ate your pussy."

"I was just moaning to make you happy." Kazuha leans forward, presenting her exposed cleavage and face that looks otherwise innocent besides the smirk. "I love making big handsome daddies like you happy."

Her words and cutesy tone send chills down your spine. She's so attractive that it's becoming scary, even when she's bound by the hands.

"Don't you feel bad, daddy?" she asks with a timely lull of her head to the side. "You're giving your whole career away to fuck me. You're supposed to be doing something else, aren't you? Something other than fucking me? So why are you here?"

Her words hit too close to home. "You don't know anything about me, Kazuha."

"Sure I do."

"Turn around."

"Make me. Holy shit, daddy, you have such a big cock, but you're so pathetic. You didn't expect to fuck a girl tonight, did you? But you saw me and thought about it. And now that I've figured you out, you got mad. Why's it the fault of a good little girl like me that you're doing the wrong thing? Maybe it's because you know you're such a bad person, a bad guy—"

You grab her and push her stomach down on the table. Your rod slips inside the ballerina, and she breaks.

And it's everything you've ever wanted: she's hot and tight and wet around you. Her bouncy ass lives up to its description as you pump at a rapid fire pace inside her. Her pussy's so tight that it feels like it's pinching you to keep you inside, and you do exactly that. You'd never want to be anywhere else.

But you still make sure to pull out to let your length breathe, then submerge them into the tightness of her vagina again. Her lips cling to your dick. They don't want you to be anywhere else either.

“Say you’re sorry.”

"S-sorry, daddy!" she's quick to say. A broken mirror lies across the table, and from there you can see the expressions of winces and moans on her beautiful face.

"Fucking mean it."

"Kazu… ha, Kazuha… Kazuha's sorry, daddy!"

There's a certain power you impel on this thrust specifically, and it sends her legs buckling. Place a hand on her bound wrists to keep her in place just like she did when she had you trapped to the door.

Frankly, you did it for the chance to slap her cheeks. Spank one and it jiggles beautifully. Spank the other and her hole tightens. Make it a point of yours to spank there particularly, all while keeping the unyielding quality of her hole. It's how you keep the brat that is Kazuha on a leash.

"Daddy, daddy, fuck!" she screams. "You're so, so good, please keep fucking me!"

"Contradicting yourself." Pull out, much to her disappointment, and slide your cock up and down in the plateau of her asscheeks. The flesh of her ass hugs you.

"Why'd you pull out, daddy?" Kazuha asks. She looks back at you and pleads with the shimmer in her eyes.

"I wanted to see if this ass is as soft as it looks."

For a few blissful moments you fuck Kazuha's ass cheeks, but never really entering her puckered pink hole. It causes her to whine and pout. It's impossible to not give in to such a pretty face, so you continue for a few seconds, letting the pleasure entice your cock to a full solidness, then pause.

"Are you a good girl, Kazuha?" Rub her pussy then bring your slick digits to her mouth.

Kazuha licks them clean and nods repeatedly. If you weren't so focused on riling her up, you'd go back to the moment your squad nodded their heads as you went over the mission plan. "Yesss, daddy."

"So much you'd let me fuck this perfect pussy till I'm spent?"

"Yes!"

Twist Kazuha around and prop her on the desk. Then, you tear her blouse. Buttons soar in the air to make way for her full, ab-ridden midriff to be exposed. Her tiny slutty waist has your mouth agape. Her small breasts peek through her black lace bra.

"And let me cum all over this midriff?" you ask, staking the deal higher.

"Oh, what's that?" Kazuha smirks. "Is little old daddy scared to breed me?"

Her character when she's not being fucked confuses you just as much as it arouses you. She looks way better when she's being a submissive little dancer, though.

"Bad girls don't get to be bred."

Push inside her. Yes, you're doing this again. Kazuha's abs flex, and the breaths she takes and releases become more strained.

As you pound her, she looks at you with this face that's lost any elegance from dancing. It's looking like she's slightly sleepy with pleasure, like she wanted to lay there while she let you have your way with her. And you'd be glad to—her ripped uniform and pretty legs would spur you on in no time.

You grab her ass and start dragging her to yourself, too, to fill her deeper. It works; your tip makes it to her womb and right then and there you're tempted to be hypocritical and breed her anyway. You'd love to imagine how her face basked in pleasure would look when you fill her with your load. You'd love to see her pull the weight of being bred well and dance out there with no care that your semen's rolling down her soft legs.

But she doesn't deserve it.

"Pleaaaase, I'll be so good!" she says. Her hands end up on your shoulders and she's kissing you everywhere. "I'll be a good girl, daddy, just fffucking fill me up. I'll never… I'll be…. oh!"

You're going too fast. Your sudden burst of energy leaves her on the edge. On the wall, to be more precise, because you're ruining and rearranging her insides so well that she's knocked onto the walls again and again.

"Daddy…"

Kazuha winces. Moans. C-cries? She doesn't know what to do. Her legs feel hot and she feels like she's going to burst anytime soon. Your cock's impaling her in all the right ways, grazing her cervix and G-spot but also parting her walls just so that the pain transforms into pleasure. "Gonna cum now, daddy, please let me—oh, please—"

The last word comes out wrung in between pitches. Kazuha shudders and squeals. The pleasure's overwhelming her so much that she's let go of her strength. Her legs feel too weak. Her throat, although you haven't fucked it, is sore. Then you're painting her abs, white fluid against and above and over white skin, and she immediately fingers some of your release and pushes a digit inside herself. She's a resourceful girl besides being an excellent ballerina. Good to know.

"You really didn't breed me, daddy?" she asks sadly.

You regret not doing so seeing the hopeless look on her face. "Sorry, but I've got to—"

Your eyes size up to planets.

—"go."

It's only at the finish of your sentence that you realize that you're right. You do have to go. Why are you here when you have a mission to find the abductor?

"Shit, shit, shit!" Pull your pants up and fix your blazer. It's cool inside the utility room, but your blood's run cold. "I have to go, Kazuha. I—"

Kazuha rolls her eyes. "Fix your earpiece first, daddy. You're a mess."

You blindly follow her words before you even suspect why she knew about the earpiece, or why it's off. After you tap on it, you hear the following, haunting words:

"Mission aborted. Mission aborted. We've been betrayed."

"No, no, no." You shake your head over and over. You can’t believe that was happening and you missed out on assisting your teammates out. Speak through the piece in a shaken voice, "What's going on? Yunjin? Yunjin, what's going on?"

"What the fuck?" she says, obviously infuriated. "I've been trying to reach you, agent! Where the hell are you?"

Look around. "Uh… I met a girl. We're in the back."

"Fuck. What's her name?"

"Kazuha."

Yunjin's voice reaches an alarm you've never heard from her. "Get the fuck out of there, agent! Get away from her, kill her, I don't give a fuck, just run!"

"B-but why?"

"The kidnapper's not a 'him,' she's a 'she'! It's a trap!"

As Yunjin's voice echoes from your earpiece in the small room, Kazuha's creepy smile grows.

"Yunjin," flash a look at the ballerina, who’s still smiling, then at the ceiling, "I don't understand."

"Get your fucking head in the game. 'The One Who Dances', agent. 'One Leaf'! The answer was right in our face, it's her!" Yunjin's practically shouting now. It deafens you, but you hear every word loud and clear. "She impersonated Bae Suzy at the airport, agent. The ‘cat’ in the letter wasn’t about Suzy, it’s about Sakura! She betrayed us!”

You look at Kazuha, and suddenly her smile isn’t as alluring as it was when you were fucking her. It speaks of an impending doom. It tells you that you should really run, but there wouldn’t be much change if you did because she’d still catch you. You’d still end up dead.

Suddenly, all the pieces to the story that played behind the scenes fall into place. They connect too well for it to be false. You never questioned once why Sakura led you in each of the operations, and now it’s clear why she did: she was holding you back from saving Suzy. There was a reason why she was team leader. How did you not catch it?

And Kazuha… she didn’t come up to you just because she wanted to, did she? She had a partner and a purpose. You were searching for the culprit ever since you stepped foot into the academy. It didn’t hit you once that you might be fucking her.

Kazuha takes a few steps towards you and lays her forehead into your chest. “You’re not mad, are you, daddy?”

How did her tie suddenly disappear from her wrists?

#kpop smut #female idol smut #idol smut #girl group smut #genshin smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim smut #nakamura kazuha smut #kazuha smut #lesserafim kazuha smut #le sserafim kazuha smut #idol x reader #idol x male reader #male reader #reader insert #x reader #pov smut #kofimission #commission

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ofstoriesandstardust · 2 years

Text

same mistakes pt. i (bradley “rooster” bradshaw)

a/n: @roosterbrdshaw made a post about a enemies-to-lovers, maverick’s daughter fic and this was born. i rewatched the movie last weekend and got a new idea, so i scrapped everything i had already written and started over. and then... it got out of hand.... so i’m breaking it up into a least three parts. uhm, kylie, write a slow-burn??? where are we??

title comes from one direction’s “same mistakes” don’t come for me

summary: (enemies-to-lovers, maverick’s daughter!reader) you and Bradley used to be best friends. key word: used to. as in, over, in the past, never gonna happen again. the sight of the pilot makes your skin crawl, disgust and anger curdling in your stomach. it definitely has nothing to do with the unspoken feelings leftover from your teen years. not at all. furthermore, being put together on a suicide mission is not your idea of a good time. no matter what, you and Rooster seemed to be doomed to make the same mistakes over and over again.

callsign: rebel

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | pt. ii | pt. iii

warnings: my shitty military knowledge, i swore, no the movie didn’t tell us what squadron Coyote originally flew with so i made it up, I am actually from San Diego so some of my personal experience is filtered in here sue me, okay really it’s just my love of burritos, i don’t know jackshit about flying a plane and it’s obvious, i tweaked some of the movie dialogue for plot reasons, justice for Coyote, Maverick’s a supportive Dad no matter how much his daughter fucks up (this will become apparent in the upcoming parts but we get hints here and there in this part)

word count: 5,126

Maverick took a deep breath, eyes flitting over the board of twelve students recalled for this special mission. “Is there a problem, Captain?” Cyclone’s voice called.

“You know there is.”

You walked into the Hard Deck behind Coyote, welcoming the familiar sounds of music and patrons talking amongst themselves at the bar. You breathed in a comfortable sigh, Coyote looking at you with a smirk. “Good to be home.” You said, seeing your Dad sat at the bar talking to Penny. Coyote laughed, moving towards the back where a tall, handsome blond was sat next to the pool table.

“You spend twelve weeks here for TOPGUN training and suddenly this is home?”

“Born and raised here, baby.” You said, pushing your trademark aviators to sit atop your head. You waved to your Dad as you followed behind Coyote. Penny turned, seeing you and giving you her signature smirk with a wave of her fingers. You weren’t sure what your Dad was doing back in Fightertown but you had a suspicion he’d gone and pissed off the Admiral overseeing his project in the Mojave Desert. The blond shot up out of his seat, pulling Coyote over into a hug.

“Machado, man, what’re you doing out here?”

“Got re-called from the Green Vipers for a special mission. You?”

“Same thing. Wondering what kind of mission they’re asking us to fly for. Who's your friend?” Coyote opened his mouth, presumably to introduce you when the man’s attention shifted to a group of three nearing the table. Your eyes locked on a tall man sitting in the corner, who was quietly observing and eating peanuts. You lifted a hand from where your arms were crossed to wave at him and he gave you a shy smile back, waving in return.

“Fellows, this here’s Bagman.” You hear the woman say, attention shifting back to the group.

“Hangman.” The blond said, shooting the girl a bright smile. Her eyes locked over towards you, clearly getting ready to ask about you. You noted her pin said Trace and you realized who were standing in front of. Few pilots made names for themselves like Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, so yeah, you’d heard of her.

“Whatever.”

“Who's your friends?”

“Payback.”

“Fanboy.” Hangman’s eyes slid over to a brunette approaching to the table and you could’ve vomited at the sight of him. Of all the goddamn pilots...

“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.” Rooster took off his aviators, squinting at the sight of you next to Hangman.

“Hangman.” He responded, giving the man a curt nod. “Rebel.”

“Rooster.” You responded, and the table’s interest piqued.

“Two of you know each other?” Phoenix asked.

“Our old man’s used to fly together. Let’s just say that I’m not a fan.”

“Coincidentally, neither am I.” He sneered at you in response and you returned the look.

“Your old man a pilot, Rebel? I didn’t know that.” Coyote said, turning to you. You shrugged.

“There’s lots you don’t know about me, Machado. I’m a woman full of secrets.” You taunted, a sly smile on your face. Coyote opened his mouth to respond but then the bell rang as the bar went up in cheers and you looked over to see your Dad groaning. Typical Maverick. Hangman turned towards the bar to get another round and Coyote looked down at you with a questioning look. As Phoenix talked to Rooster, you leaned over as Coyote whispered in your ear.

“The hell was that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look, there’s Yale, Harvard, Omaha, Fritz, even Halo. What kind of hell mission is this?” Someone asked as you pulled away from Coyote shrugging.

“That’s not the question. Everyone here is the best of the best. The question we should be asking is who the hell are they going to get to teach us?” Phoenix responded. Your eyes flickered over to your Dad who was still chatting with Penny. Nobody better than Maverick...

The bell rang again, pulling your from your thoughts. The bar began to chant “overboard, overboard” as Coyote and Hangman moved towards the bar. Towards your Dad specifically. You rolled your eyes, smiling as they picked him up. He winked at you as he was not-so-gracefully tossed out of the bar by the pair. The bar cheered again as notes on the piano began to play. Your stomach soured as you realized who was singing. You caught a glimpse of your Dad outside the bar, stone-faced. You looked over at Coyote, who was staring at you long before you made eye contact. As the bar sang along to Rooster’s song, you screwed your eyes shut and willed yourself to not think of old memories that were better off locked deep down. Fuzzy memories of growing up with Goose and Maverick singing to you both at the piano. Memories of Rooster singing around the house as Carole made him clean, long before Rooster was Rooster and was only just Bradley. Memories of Bradley teaching you how to play piano when you were 13. Memories of Bradley singing softly the night your heart had got broken for the first time when you were 16. Memories of yelling to ABBA in the car on summer road trips as a teen with him.

As the bar began to chant Rooster’s name, you bit down the nausea that was surfacing. You wanted out. As the group that had surrounded the piano moved their way back towards the pool table, you pulled out your phone, shooting your Dad a quick text, asking if he wanted to get burritos and catch up. You bit your lip as he typed back, confirming he’d get them and meet you at the house. You shut the phone and looked up, making brief eye contact with Bradley. You sighed, rolled back your shoulders, and told yourself to shake it off.

“Alright, I’m headed out.” You said, slipping the phone into your jacket pocket.

“We just got here like two hours ago. Why do you want to go back to base already?” You rolled your eyes and laughed at Coyote, walking away from him backwards.

“Back to base? No, no, me live here. Me go get dinner and then me go sleep in my own bed.” You said, mocking Coyote. Not that base, or even temporary, housing from the military was bad but getting to sleep in your own space was a comfort and privilege one was not often allotted in this line of work. He flipped you off as you cackled, pushing your way through Phoenix and Rooster. The brief contact with him made your skin burn and you tried not think about it too much. You waved goodbye to Penny as you called an Uber back to your place. Your car lived at the house, with one of your neighbors taking it out every once in a while to make sure it didn’t die. The place was technically your Dad’s but with him being gone so often, it had sort of, unofficially, kind of become yours. You thanked the woman who dropped you off as you noted your Dad’s motorcycle was already sitting out front. You unlocked the door, peeking your head around. “Dad?” You called, kicking off your shoes.

“Kitchen.” You heard and you moved towards there. He must’ve just gotten back, with the way the burritos weren’t even out of the bag yet. He smiled at you, pulling you into a hug the moment you entered the small kitchen. “Mmm, it’s good to see you kiddo.” He said, pulling away. You laughed as you opened the fridge and got out two beers.

“You too, Dad.” He pulled the burritos out and sat at the table and you exchanged your respective goods. “So, what Admiral did you piss off now?” You asked as you popped the cap on your beer. He chuckled.

“Cain.”

“The old one?” You asked, wrinkling your nose.

“Sweetie, they’re all old. I’m old.” You shrugged.

“Whatever.”

“So who was the kid you were with today?”

“Coyote? He’s my wingman back at the Green Vipers. You wouldn’t happen to know what we got recalled for, do you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes slightly. Your Dad sighed and took a well-timed sip of his beer.

“You’ll find out tomorrow.” You sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“It was weird to see Rooster today.” Your Dad nodded, clearing his throat.

“Yeah.” He agreed quietly. “The two of you still not talking?”

“You’d know it if we were.” He sighed.

“Hate that the two of you are like this now. You guys used to be such good friends. I mean, maybe even more...” He prompted, a teasing smile on his face. You groaned.

“That’s gross, I never had a thing for Bradley.”

“Mhmm.” He responded, taking another bite of his food with that all-knowing grin. You tossed your beer cap at him.

“Stop, I didn’t!” He chuckled as you pouted. “Even if I did, it wouldn't matter now.” He sighed.

“I know.” A solemn air took over the room. It was times like this that made you miss the little happy family you’d before Carole had died and Rooster had cut you off. You sighed.

“I miss Carole.”

“I miss her too.” Your Dads respond, looking at the counter, clearly somewhere far away. A silence passed between the two of you, which was finally broken by your Dad, as he seemed to return to the present. “So, Coyote, huh? Anything going on there that I should know about?”

“Dad, no.” He laughed as you stuck out your tongue.

“Hey, I’m just saying. I’m getting old, I want grandkids sooner rather than later.”

“Dad!”

You zipped up your jacket as you made your way to the classroom, greeting an awaiting Coyote, and unfortunately, an awaiting Hangman. You rolled your eyes as you pushed past him, heading towards the classroom. You pushed the classroom door open, where Bradley was sat at the front. Payback, Phoenix, Fanboy, and the tall man from last night, whose name you noted as Bob from his patch, were stood in pairs on either side of the aisle. “C’mon, you’ve known me for less than 24 hours, how can you hate me already Rebel?” Hangman asked from behind you.

“I don’t have to know you for any longer to know that you’re a pilot who thinks they’re better than they are, and have an obnoxious ego the size of Texas.” You snarked back. TOPGUN pilots like Hangman were a dime a dozen. Cocky, arrogant, competitive, assholes.

“C’mon, Rebel. Hangman’s rough around the edges but he’s solid once you get to know him.” Coyote defends, slapping his friend on the back. Phoenix barked out a laugh as the three of you stopped in front of them.

“Yeah, no, don’t take Coyote’s word for it Rebel. Hangman’s not someone you want to get stuck with as your wingman.”

“Harsh, Nix. I’m the best wingman there is.” You laughed, not missing the way Rooster’s head turned at the sound.

“No, Bagman, I think that’s me.” Phoenix snickered at your response. “But quite frankly, if I had a choice I wouldn’t pick any one of you to be my wingman with the exception of Coyote.” He fist-bumped you as Payback groaned.

“C’mon now, that’s no way to make friends.” Payback stated and you rolled your eyes, moving towards the empty seat next to Rooster.

“Respectfully, I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to fly a mission.”

“Touche.” Phoenix responded from behind you as you slid easily into the seat next to Rooster. He looked at you briefly and then looked away. You heard the sound of the classroom door opening somewhere from behind you as you settled in.

“Bradshaw.”

“Mitchell.”

“That hasn’t been my last name in a long time and you know it.” Mitchell never had been your last name to start with. Your Mom’s maiden name was on the birth certificate despite the fact that she’d taken off not long before Goose died. Your Mom and Maverick were never married either, so there was no reason for Mitchell to be your last name legally. Still, most people knew you as Pete Mitchell’s daughter, something you and your Dad quickly made a secret once you joined the Navy. He had a reputation and he didn’t want your career to be tainted before it ever had a chance to start. It wasn’t even really a secret, but rather something that just wasn’t talked about.

“C’mon, you don’t even get along with Rooster man, and you’d rather sit with him than your wingman?” Coyote’s voice called from behind you and both you and Rooster turned.

“I’d rather not sit in a 5 mile radius of Hangman anyhow, much less in the seat next to him.” Rooster quietly laughed and you smiled. Maybe this time you guys could get things right. All thoughts of reconciling were vanished however, when two officials walked into the room, one of them calling you to attention. The class quickly stood up, as your eyes flickered over them. They introduced themselves, Cyclone and Warlock, and and began to explain the seriousness of the mission you’d been called back to fly. Then they introduced your teacher as...

“Captain Pete Mitchell, callsign: Maverick.” You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry at the prospect of your Dad being your teacher. Maybe you would settle for throwing up, as you suddenly felt nauseous. Rooster’s eyes hardened and you felt his gaze for a brief second before looking away. You had suspected it sure, but actually knowing... why was this suddenly so much more daunting than the dangerous mission now being explained to you? You sighed and took a deep breath before straightening up. Your Dad’s eyes flickered over you and Bradley briefly before he began to explain to parameter for training for the day. He listed out the groups. You’d conveniently go last with Rooster. You moved down to the airstrip, where you noticed your Dad calling after Rooster. Apparently, Hangman and Phoenix noticed too and the three of you shared a look.

Eventually, you moved back to the waiting room as the rest of the pilots listened in to those up in the sky. You giggled probably a little too much for Coyote’s liking after Hangman got his ass handed to him, but other than that, no one came close to beating your Dad. If you looked out in the window, you could see the pilots doing their 200 pushups with Hondo. Damn Payback and damn TOPGUN pilots and their egos. Eventually though, it was the last round of the day, and you and Rooster made your way out of the room and towards the airstrip. The two of you clambered into your planes and finished off the last-minute checks. Before you knew it, the two of you were up in the air.

“You see him?” You asked Rooster, and there was silence. “Great, don’t help me.” You muttered.

“Saved the best for last didn’t we?” Maverick’s voice came over the comms.

“Don’t let Hangman hear that, his ego will be hurt.” You knew full well hangman could hear you. You accelerated a little bit, moving up in the air to try and spot your Dad, and then... there. “Hey Rooster, look out.” You called, moving up more to get out of Maverick’s way.

“Don’t need your help.” He started and you sighed.

“Damn, okay.” You muttered. You watched from above as Maverick got Rooster out and you head a “Shit” along with a dial tone.

“Alright Rebel, your turn. Where are you?” You were seated just above Maverick, just far enough out of eye sight, but definitely too far away to get a hit. You moved downwards, praying to God your Dad didn’t spot you. And he did, just not in time. “Shit, kid.” He said, moving his plane forward, trying to get out of your target range. He was too slow, however, as a dial tone sounded through the comms.

“That’s a kill. You’re dead, Mav.” He groaned. “Go see Hondo about your push-ups.” You said, imagining the laughter back on base. You moved your plane back down towards base and it wasn’t long before your Dad caught up too. He pounded on the glass, catching your attention as you neared base. You looked over and he nodded, smiling and giving you a thumbs up. You laughed quietly to yourself as the two of you settled and landed. Rooster was already well into his pushups, but Hondo laughed at Mav nonetheless as he climbed out of his plane. You saluted Hondo as you pulled your helmet off and made your way towards the locker room. You by-passed Phoenix on her way out, presumably to go see Rooster.

“Hey, nice work today.” She said.

“Oh, thanks. You too. Sorry about y’all getting out.” She shrugged.

“Hangman leave you hanging. What can you do?” You laughed quietly. “Hey, we’re all gonna go get some drinks at the Hard Deck tonight, if you wanted to join us.” Despite your comment earlier in the day about not being there to make friends, you’d like for this group of people to like you, at the very least respect you, especially considering most of them had known each other since their TOPGUN days.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds great. Yeah, I’ll be there.” She nodded.

“I’m gonna go check on Rooster.” She said, nodding her head back towards the tarmac. “I’ll see you there.” You nodded and the door to the locker room shut behind her. You sighed out a deep breath, feeling a little tension from the day release.

You wandered into the Hard Deck, seeing Coyote and Hangman by the dartboard. While there were a few people at the bar, it wasn’t overly busy and no one else from the squadron was there yet. “Hey boys.” You called and they both turned to you. “Can I play?” Hangman smirked, handing you a dart as you approached.

“Show us what you got, Rebel.” The rest of the team slowly filtered in and eventually Payback and Fanboy walked in, getting beer from Penny and coming to stand next to the dartboard. As you threw another dart, narrowly missing a bullseye, Fanboy decided to break his silence.

“So Rebel, do share about how you managed to be the only person to get Maverick out.”

You laughed as Hangman took his turn, also missing another bullseye. “A magician never reveals her secrets.” You said, taking a sip of your beer. Out of the corner of your eye, you noted that Phoenix and Rooster had joined the crew in the bar and were headed towards you.

“No, actually I want to know how you did it.” Rooster said, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with you. You tried not to shudder as he came into such close proximity of you. The last two days were the closest you’d been to Rooster in years, ever since he cut you off for a reason you’d yet to know. You shrugged, turning your attention back to the bar.

“Tell you what, I’ll tell whoever buys me the next round.” Fanboy and Payback groaned. “Hey, I’ve got to be adequately compensated for sharing my knowledge.” Fanboy laughed at that but then Hangman was shoving another beer into your hand and sitting down.

“Spill.” He demanded. You shrugged again.

“Pure luck. I happened to be out of Maverick’s eye sight and took advantage of the fact that he was distracted with getting Rooster out.” Hangman scoffed. “I’m serious! Most of my career is reckless flying and luck.” Not quite unlike your father...

“So why the callsign Rebel then? Why not Lucky or something?” Payback asked. A ghost of a smile flickered over your face.

“I have tendency to break Navy regulations that are small enough that the Navy can’t discharge me for because my skills as a pilot outweigh the rules I break.”Coyote snickered at this, causing Hangman to raise an eyebrow.

“You have experience with this?” Hangman asked and Coyote nodded.

“Our last CO at the Green Vipers wanted to chuck her out of the squadron at least once a month but he wasn’t allowed to.”

“What’d you do?” Phoenix asked, the curiosity raising in her voice. You shrugged, fiddling with a dart. “I’ll wear my hair in braids instead of a bun. Not when I’m flying of course, but any other time. I paint my nails ridiculous colors. Sometimes I don’t make my bed, other times my uniform won’t be just right. Always small shit, always just enough to get on officials nerves. I won’t do it here because Cyclone and Warlock scare the shit out of me and I fully believe they’d dishonorably discharge me but everyone who’s tried before has been told no because getting rid of one of the Navy’s top pilots for an unmade bed seems ridiculous to higher-ups.”

“You mad woman? Are you trying to get discharged?” Payback asked incredulously. You shook your head.

“No, but I hate rules that feel sexist and outdated. And who the fuck cares if my bed’s made anyways?”

“The Navy.” Rooster responded and you laughed.

“Apparently.” He smiled at you and for the second time that day, you wondered if maybe this would be the time the two of you could get things right. You felt Hangman’s eyes flit between you and Rooster and you felt your stomach sink. A smirk began to appear on the blondes face and quite frankly, you wanted to smack it right off.

“You know, I just can’t help but feel like Rooster and Rebel here know more about each other than they’re willing to let on.” Rooster shot Hangman a glare as you bit your lip nervously. You didn’t care if Rooster told these people about your past but you didn’t want him revealing who your Dad was. You wanted them to respect you and you don’t want to blow your chances of getting selected for this mission.

“Fuck off Hangman, you know nothing.” Rooster said. Fanboy snorted.

“Bradshaw, man, don’t think we all haven’t seen the little side glances you take at her.” You groaned.

“Oh fuck off with that, would you?” Fanboy looked a little taken aback by your response.

“So there’s no secret thing you’re hiding from us?” Coyote said firmly. You shook your head.

“There’s no secret thing.” You confirmed.

“Okay, no secret thing, but any secrets you’re keeping from us?” Hangman said, looking between the two of you. Rooster scoffed and you shook your head.

“Grow up and stop being a nosy asshole Hangman. You’re not entitled to my life story or my secrets.” You said, grabbing your beer and moving towards Halo, Omaha and Fritz, who were over at the pool table.

“You say that like there is a secret.” He taunted and you turned slightly, just enough for him to see you flipping him off. You’d tell these people anything they wanted, but they couldn’t know about your relationship to Maverick. It would fuck everything up.

The next week of training was grueling. You knew this mission was going to push you to your limits mentally and physically but holy shit. Despite your initial success and luck on Day 1, no one had successfully completed the course since. As your squadron sat in the debriefing room discussing the day’s activities, a heated argument broke out between Rooster and Hangman. You’d unfortunately got stuck sitting next to Hangman and you wanted to, not for the first time, lean over and smack him. Hangman was getting closer and closer to pushing Rooster over the edge. “Stop being a goddamn asshole.” You snapped, turning to him. He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh shut the fuck up, Rebel. Stop trying to come to my defense like we’re fucking friends.” Rooster shot at you from a row behind you. Maverick looked bewildered at the commotion, unsure how to stop it.

“What the fuck did I ever do to you?” Rooster’s eyes narrowed as you fully faced him.

“You really want to get into it right now?” You shook your head and huffed, turning back around. Your ears were ringing with anger. Rooster cut you off with no warning or explanation as to why and he wanted sit here in front of everyone and act like it was your fault? Asshole. Suddenly, Hangman was making a comment about Goose and your Dad and Rooster was launching up across the row to Hangman. You pushed Hangman back as Coyote grabbed him, pulling backwards. Bob and Phoenix pulled Rooster away as Maverick moved in between the group. Your heart was pounding against your ribs as you and Rooster locked eyes.

“Holy shit, your Mav’s daughter. This is why the two of you don’t get along.” Hangman was saying and you whipped back to Hangman as the attention shifted. His eyes shot over to Rooster. “It’s true, isn’t it Bradshaw?”

“You finally got something right Bagman.” Rooster snarled, chest still heaving. Before you knew it, you were launching at Rooster yourself, but your Dad had been quicker, pulling you back away from the group and into his chest.

“To the grave, Bradshaw, that was supposed to go to the goddamn grave.” The venom in your voice transforming into hurt. You might’ve been able to get by it, deny it to the squadron, but Rooster had just confirmed it in front of everyone. Your Dad still had you by the arms as he dismissed everyone.

“You stay here.” He said to you, pulling you further back from the group. Hangman and Coyote went first, Coyote shooting you a look as he walked out the door that screamed we need to talk. Rooster followed with the rest of the squadron going after him. You didn’t miss the dirty looks and death glares that got sent your way. After the door clicked shut behind the last team member, your Dad’s grip loosened and you turned around to face him. He sighed, moving to sit down in one of the chairs but you stayed upright, chest still having as your ears slowly stopped ringing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to- You know I’m not-” He waved you off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sorry to be a Mitchell, and I knew it was going to come out eventually, but it shouldn't have come out like that and he knows it.” Your Dad shrugged, looking at you. “Why does he hate me?” You asked. You knew your Dad wouldn't have the answer, never had had the answer, but it was a question that had bothered you for years.

“Because he hates me, and you’re an extension of me. He’s never going to forgive me for what I did.” Your Dad finally answered and you cocked your head in confusion. In all the years that you’d mourned your friendship with Rooster and then grown to hate him yourself, this was the first time your question had never been followed with an “I don’t know.”

“What’d you do?” He sighed, clearly debating on telling you.

“I pulled Bradley’s application to the Naval Academy.” You stumbled backwards, reeling.

“You what? Why- why would you do that? Why didn’t you tell me?” He sighed, looking away from you.

“I figured the less you knew, the better. That way, Rooster would still have you, wouldn’t let it affect his friendship with you. But that’s clearly not what happened and I- I didn’t know how to fix it.” Your mind reeled as you took in this information. You shook your head, finally finding your voice.

“I’m going for a drive.” You finally stated, heading for the door.

“(Y/N)-”

“I’ll see you for training tomorrow Mav.” You called. You knew the usage of his callsign stung and it was meant to. But you needed a moment to process what the hell had just happened and what the hell you had just found out.

You shut the door to your car in the parking lot of the Hard Deck as you grumbled. Why the fuck your Dad had called you all out here today was beyond you. You squinted as you saw the figures of Fanboy, Payback, Phoenix, Rooster, and Bob gathered at the edge of the beach. You debated making a run for it before they spotted you, but you didn’t get a choice as Coyote’s arm clapped down on to your shoulders. You startled, looking up at him, and unfortunately, Hangman who was next to him. You rolled your eyes and pushed his arm off, moving towards the group at the edge of the beach. “Oh, sweetheart, c’mon. Why do you always run away from me?” He called as the pair followed after you.

“Because you’re a dick.” You shot back, officially catching the attention of the group. “Didn’t your Mom ever tell you it’s not cool to insult someone’s dead parents?” Phoenix scoffed as you arrived in front of them.

“You’re one to talk. You’ve been keeping the secret that you’re the instructors daughter since Day 1.” Your eyes narrowed.

“Would you have respected me if you’d known?” You challenged. “Look, enough military officials who know his reputation give me enough shit. I’m not going to let this squadron, or any other, do the same. I’ve earned a right to build a name and career for myself separate of Maverick. The least you could do is give me enough grace to do so.” You noticed Payback and Fanboy’s stature soften as Bob shot you a small smile. Rooster was pointedly not making eye contact with you, but honestly, you couldn’t care less considering you still wanted to punch him in the nose. Phoenix opened her mouth to respond but then Maverick was calling for you, motioning you all down to the beach.

“Why in the hell does he have two footballs?” Hangman muttered as the group moved through the sand towards him.

“Fuck if I know.” You responded, causing Coyote to laugh. The group stopped in front of Maverick, where the rest of your squadron awaited.

“Today, we’re gonna play dogfight football. Offense and defense at the same time.” You blinked at your Dad who chuckled at your response. Where did he get these ideas...

As Maverick split you all up into teams, Fanboy grabbed your arm. You stopped, looking at him. He offered out his fist. “May the best pilot win.” He said, looking at you expectantly. You chuckled, fist-bumping him.

“Oh, I intend to.” He laughed and followed Payback over to their side as Hondo explained the rules. You smiled, following Coyote to your area. You knew what the gesture had been indicative of. A truce.

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