#Maverick Imagine

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Limits

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick's new female friend brings out your spiteful nature. And seeing you with a new man is harder on Maverick than he'd like to admit.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, drinking, and did someone say bring on the angst?? Because you know I can deliver..

WC: 4000+

This is Part 5 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Captain?”

Maverick looks up when you step into his office. He’s sitting on the edge of his desk and there’s a woman standing between his legs, so close, she might as well be in his lap. When you enter, she steps away half-heartedly, looking slightly annoyed that her conversation with Maverick has been cut short.

Maverick’s cheeky grin falters when he sees you, and he clears his throat as he hops off his desk.

“Lieutenant,” he says. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him in shock, not sure how to react. The last several weeks haven’t been easy; in fact, you and Maverick have barely spoken since your mutual decision to terminate your romantic relationship. But seeing him with another woman is a whole new level of difficult.

“Lieutenant?” he says, lifting his eyebrows worriedly. He doesn’t bother to introduce his companion, with whom he is obviously very familiar.

You swallow around the lump in your throat and exhale slowly. Maverick isn’t the only expert in self-regulation. It’s a skill that’s proven quite useful, if not invaluable, during your tenure in the navy. And, although it’s always come naturally to you, recent events have seen that you receive plenty of practice. “Sir,” you say promptly, saluting Maverick in an entirely professional manner, as if you’ve never even had his tongue down your throat. “It’s about next week’s squadron dinner,” you say.

It's true that you meant to speak about the dinner – about how you were planning on skipping it to avoid an ever vigilant Cyclone who's been watching both you and Maverick like a hawk. Moreover, the less you see of Maverick these days, the better.

But the scene before you has severely shifted the trajectory of your plans. And the next thing that comes out of your mouth is hideously unrehearsed. “I was wondering if we were allowed a plus one,” you blurt out, your eyes darting pointedly between Maverick and his female friend.

Maverick stares at you mutely, as though it’s taking him a minute to process your request. “You want to bring a date?” he then asks, his eyes widening and subsequently narrowing in a matter of milliseconds.

You feel like you might sweat right through your uniform with the way he’s staring you down, but you stand your ground defiantly. “If I may,” you respond unemotionally; the way you’d address any other superior.

Maverick nods slowly, glancing at the woman who’s currently rifling through some papers on his desk. You ignore how comfortable she seems in his office, like she’s been here plenty of times before. “I don’t see that being a problem,” he says. “Who’s the lucky…?” His voice trails off and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Should be fun,” he finishes, giving you a wide, artificial-looking grin.

You smile back at him. “I agree.”

…

“Boyfriend,” Maverick says, his eyebrows shooting upward for a moment before he checks himself and pulls at the collar of his jacket as if it’s suddenly an uncomfortable fit.

You try not to acknowledge his reaction and instead introduce your date to some of your squadron mates. You’re not sure why Sam has decided to put a label on your relationship at this exact moment, but you’re not going to argue semantics in front of the one person you wouldn’t mind buying into this spectacle.

“It’s new,” you hear Sam blurt out, presumably cowering under the scrutiny of Maverick’s gaze.

You make a point not to look Maverick in the eye because you’re still upset about walking in on him last week when he was clearly otherwise engaged. But when Sam walks ahead, busy conversing with the other aviators, you feel a finger brush gently over the back of your hand. You pull both hands behind your back and square your shoulders to face your instructor.

Maverick is watching you solemnly. “This is good,” he whispers, although the tilt of his eyebrows says otherwise.

You can’t express how much it hurts to hear him referring to this situation as good, and yet, you nod, grinning rigidly. “It is,” you say, pausing to give him an opportunity to come clean about his own blossoming relationship.

But Maverick does nothing of the sort. Maverick is as unreadable as ever.

You’re about to walk away when the woman you’d seen in Maverick’s office appears from behind him. She nudges him on the shoulder to get his attention and shoots him a brilliant smile.

Maverick gives her a polite nod before turning back to you. “Lieutenant,” he says. “I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine.”

The woman beams at you and holds out her hand. “I’m Charlie,” she says.

You shake her hand and return her smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie,” you say. “Are you an instructor at Top Gun as well?”

She chuckles, throwing Maverick a flirty glance. “Not for a while,” she responds, looking back at you. “Not since this one made me rethink that particular career choice.”

Maverick drops his head with a laugh. “Sorry about that, by the way,” he says.

Charlie shakes her head. “Don’t be,” she replies. “It all worked out.”

Maverick nods, looking at her affectionately. “Charlie went on to bigger and better things. And by bigger, I mean she went on to design rockets.”

“Wow,” you say, both impressed and jealous of the woman who seems to hold a special place in Maverick’s heart.

“And look at how far you’ve come,” Charlie says to Maverick.

Maverick grimaces. “I’m right back where I started,” he remarks. “Full circle.”

“You’re right back where you’re meant to be,” she says earnestly. “And I’m proud of you.”

Maverick shifts his weight uncomfortably, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “We better grab a seat before Cyclone has an aneurysm,” he says.

You turn to see Cyclone watching the three of you with an irked expression from the table reserved for your group at the restaurant. He shakes his head ominously as you make your way toward the others. When the three of you arrive at the table, he mutters, “How gracious of you to join us.”

Maverick glances at him with a slight smirk but doesn’t say a word while Charlie lets out a small chuckle, taking her place beside Maverick at the table.

You lower yourself into the seat next to Sam, right across from Maverick and Charlie. Cyclone is sitting to Maverick’s right, aggressively perusing the menu.

“I hear the fish tacos are good here,” Maverick notes when Cyclone lays his menu down on the table in frustration.

Cyclone gives him a sour look. “Not a fish person,” he responds tartly.

You stifle a laugh, exchanging glances with Charlie, who is also snickering.

“There are non-fish tacos as well,” Maverick points out.

Cyclone nods grumpily. “Yes, I saw the entire section devoted to the various tacos they serve. I can read.”

Maverick bites the side of his lip to contain a grin. “Enchiladas,” he continues quietly, as if to himself. “Quesadillas, chiles rellenos…”

“I want a burger,” Cyclone declares, flipping through the menu anew.

Maverick shoots you an amused glance. “Let’s start with drinks,” he suggests, sliding a draft beer menu in front of his superior.

“Good idea.” Cyclone sighs theatrically, rolling his shoulders to loosen some tension.

“Hey, d’you want to share a couple of dishes?” Sam offers, tapping you on the arm to get your attention.

You glance over at him quickly, having almost forgotten he was there. “Sure.” You nod enthusiastically, even though it’s the last thing you would ever think to do.

Once all the drinks and food arrive, and you and Sam awkwardly try to allocate your respective shares of the dinner, Charlie pipes in. “How long have you two been together?” she asks, gesturing at you and Sam.

“It’s new,” Sam, the self-proclaimed boyfriend who has yet to work up the nerve to even kiss you, reiterates quickly while you chew on a quesadilla.

You wipe your mouth with a napkin before confirming, “Not long.”

Maverick’s eyes rest on you for a split second before he returns his attention to the ceviche in his bowl.

Meanwhile, Cyclone regards you with a dubious expression. “Where did you meet?” he asks gruffly.

“Through some friends,” Sam responds excitedly, as though it’s the most fascinating fact of the evening.

You take another bite of quesadilla and avoid looking directly at any of the three people sitting before you.

But Maverick cuts the silence short. “Is it serious?” he asks, and both you and Cyclone shoot him threatening glances. Charlie looks up from her plate, trying to interpret yours and Cyclone’s abrupt reactions.

Sam, meanwhile, is smiling blissfully to himself as he pokes at the contents of his fajita before rolling it up. “I’d say it has some potential of getting there,” he says.

You nearly choke on a pepper upon seeing Maverick’s expression transform from mild amusement to unequivocal displeasure. His jaw muscles contract as he forcefully stabs at his dinner with a fork.

Sam clears his throat nervously and speaks in a noticeably higher pitch, “Of course, I can’t predict the future.”

You roll your eyes and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s none of his business, anyway,” you say.

To Maverick’s left, you see Charlie’s jaw drop slightly in her shock at your informal – bordering on impolite – addition to the conversation with your superior officer.

Cyclone chuckles quietly, finally appeased by your interaction with Maverick. “At last, something we can all agree on.”

Maverick smiles politely. “I was just making small talk,” he says, laying his fork down without finishing his meal.

Cyclone gives him a flat look and leans forward to address his friend. “Charlie, how long are you in town?”

While Charlie and Cyclone engage in conversation, Maverick catches your gaze inquisitively, as if he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are so penetrating, you feel like he can see right through you. He must know that your relationship with Sam isn’t even close to being serious. He must know that you’re probably going to break it off that very evening. He must know you only brought him because you were hurt and you wanted to hurt him back. Because Maverick has reconnected with someone of significance and is involved in something meaningful.

You tear your gaze away from him irritably. You’re about done letting Maverick stir up your emotions without so much as saying a word. You’re about done caring for a man who’s done nothing but cause you pain.

You rise from your seat and excuse yourself, heading for the bathroom near the back of the restaurant. No sooner do you break through the door, than you collapse onto the nearest sink and break down. You don’t even care that your mascara is leaving streaks down your cheeks, or that the tears are clouding your vision. You don’t even care that your hands are gripping the basin so tightly that your fingers are cramping.

You glance up at your reflection in the mirror; pathetic. How did you let yourself fall this far? This hard? This fast? You run the tap and dab some cool water on your skin, patting at the trails of makeup that your crying spell has left behind.

You take a deep breath, staring at your glistening face with a scowl, preparing yourself for the remainder of the evening. But just as you make your way for the door, it opens, and Maverick enters.

You jerk back in surprise, despite his history of showing up in places he isn’t supposed to be.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You panic. He knows. He knows that you ran away to cry. And this makes you furious. “I’m fine,” you respond curtly. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you add, gesturing to the door behind him.

He pulls his eyebrows together like he isn’t quite convinced. “You’re not okay,” he says.

You grit your teeth in anger. He can’t just ignore you for weeks and then try to comfort you like he gives a shit about your feelings. “Why are you here, Maverick?”

Maverick presses his lips into a thin line and breathes out steadily. “I was worried about you.”

You scoff resentfully. “Don’t be.”

Maverick sighs and lowers his head. “I can’t help it.”

You attempt to keep your voice even despite all the shaking your body is doing. “You better go, Captain,” you say spitefully. “Before Cyclone finds us. Or Charlie.”

He watches you soberly. “You asked me to stay,” he reminds you.

You stare wistfully into his eyes. He’s right, of course. You’re the reason he’s still here. Your relationship with him has been strained but civil since the incident on the carrier. There has been a mutual effort to avoid unnecessary encounters, and an unspoken understanding that, while romance is out of the question, it will take some time for both of you to move on completely. Obviously, you did not expect him to move on by moving in on someone new. Or old, in the case of Charlie, because the two of them go way back, apparently.

You struggle to remember why you’d wanted this – wanted him to stay despite knowing that nothing would ever come of it. In the moment, you were desperate not to lose him. But watching him carry on as though nothing ever happened between the two of you is absolute torture. You’d rather not witness just how little you actually meant to him.

You shrug. “Error in judgement, I guess,” you respond coldly, echoing his words from the night Cyclone had caught the two of you in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Maverick nods. “Been there,” he says pensively before turning to walk out. Just before he does, however, he glances back at you and adds, “I’ll wait out here until you’re ready.”

“Don’t,” you say.

Maverick meets your gaze with a weary look. “I’m not leaving.”

“What’s Cyclone going to think when the two of us come back together from the bathroom?”

Maverick shrugs. “I have no control over what Cyclone thinks.”

“What’s Charlie going to think?”

Maverick pauses in the doorway. “What’s Sam going to think?”

You roll your eyes. “He won’t even notice.”

Maverick watches you quietly for a moment, then says. “I doubt that very much.”

You lick your lips as a fresh round of tears threatens to obscure your eyesight. The fact that Sam isn’t here to check on you but Maverick is has not escaped you. “Go, please,” you whisper.

Maverick wavers slightly on the spot and, after a brief interval, holds his hand out to you. You glance down at it hesitantly as your stomach flips violently at the though of touching him again. Clearly, you’re angry with him, but the part of you that loves him always wins.

Slowly, you step forward and place your hand in his. He pulls you in the moment you make contact, wrapping his arms around you as he releases the door to the bathroom. He lets his face drop, pressing his mouth to the top of your head.

After a prolonged – mostly silent – embrace, you detach yourself from his arms and give him a nod. “I’m ready,” you say.

Maverick nods back without a word and then opens the door for you.

…

It’s past midnight when you hear the knocking, followed by some irregular footsteps and a string of quiet – but still audible – curse words. After a moment of hesitation, you unlock the door.

“Captain?”

Maverick is standing in the corridor before you, although calling it ‘standing’ might be a bit of a stretch. He’s not exactly stable on his feet.

You glance up and down the hallway to make sure that no one has seen him. “What are you doing here?”

Maverick is watching you with a squared jaw, as though he means to keep the purpose of his visit to himself. He breathes his frustration out through his nose before veering right into the doorframe.

“Sir!” you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his arm like you might have any chance of keeping him upright were he to topple over.

“Sir?” he murmurs, and you could smell the liquor on his breath. He catches your gaze now that you’re closer and, in another moment, his eyes begin to slip down your face before they finally close. “I told you,” he says, his mouth twitching as he grimaces. He pushes past you into the room.

You quickly close the door behind him, hoping nobody heard the commotion. Praying he’ll have the sense to keep his voice down.

But Maverick, it seems, isn’t nearly as concerned as you are about disturbing your neighbors. He rounds on you with a resentful expression and shakes his head. “I knew this would happen.”

You blink at him in confusion. “What?” you say. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Maverick says defeatedly. He takes a step toward you, his eyes flitting between yours as if he’s checking to see if you can relate.

But it’s a weekday and you had just drifted off to sleep when he’d started drumming on your door, so you’re not exactly following. You furrow your eyebrows. “I happened to what?” you ask.

Maverick watches you miserably, taking a step back now, as though he can’t decide which is worse: being closer or farther away from the source of all his troubles. “You two make a fine pair,” he manages to say, but not without a break in his voice.

You purse your lips, looking away from him. You’re not going to comfort a man who’s standing in his own way. After all, it was his decision not to be with you. Besides, Maverick brought his own date to the dinner, so you aren’t feeling overly sympathetic.

Maverick tears his gaze away from you and smacks a hand over his face. “What am I doing here, Lieutenant?”

It’s a fair question, to be sure; one you wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to, yourself. But you’re more immediately concerned about the consequences of Maverick’s unsanctioned visit to your quarters than the reasons behind it. “Maverick, it’s the middle of the night,” you say, shocked at how firm you sound despite the tremor travelling through you.

Maverick’s eyebrows converge and he shifts his jaw as his eyes well up with tears. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding slowly.

“And you’re drunk,” you add when he takes a step toward you again.

“I am,” he admits, still in a whisper.

You ignore the stutter of your heart as he nears. “You can’t be here,” you warn.

He watches you wretchedly, giving his head a subtle shake. “I can’t,” he agrees.

You can hardly breathe when he finally stops before you, his soft eyes trailing down your face. His hand is coasting up the side of your neck before you even know what’s happening, and by the time his fingertips are hovering at the nape of your neck, you’re so lost in his gaze, it’s a miracle you’re still standing. Unsurprisingly, you aren’t in the state of mind to respond.

“I lied,” he says with a slight rasp despite the effort he’s exerting to steady his voice. “I think he’s terrible for you.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Sam,” he says. “He’s not the one.”

You pride yourself on your patience and understanding, even in trying circumstances; you’re not an unreasonable person by any means. But even you have limits. And, tonight, Maverick is testing every last one. “Are you the one?”

Maverick stares at you, his eyes swimming. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

You breathe out forcefully, astonished at his audacity. There is only so much you can let this man get away with. “Then, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, pushing past him aggressively. You whip around sharply and point at the door. “Get out.”

…

The following afternoon in the briefing room, Maverick reviews the morning's flight footage with barely a look in your direction. He doesn’t even comment on the impulsive maneuver you pulled that left your partner confused and resulted in an uncoordinated hustle to regain momentum, costing your team valuable seconds that could have ended in tragedy were it a real dogfight.

Once the briefing is finished and the room begins to clear out, Maverick approaches your desk. “Can I have a minute, Lieutenant?” he asks in a subdued sort of tone.

You glance up at him grudgingly but don’t respond until the last of the pilots have left the room. “Is it about the Cobra Climb?” you ask monotonously.

“What?” He quirks his head in confusion before briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head. “No,” he says, and then adds, more emphatically, “No.” He lets out a heavy sigh and lifts a leg over the chair in front of your desk, sitting on it backwards to face you. “I want to apologize to you.”

You groan. “Not again.”

Maverick steals a glance at the door, ensuring that the two of you are still alone, and then he lays a hand over yours on the desk. “I’m sorry about last night. Showing up at your place – less than sober.” Maverick lowers his gaze with a disappointed frown. “I – I had no right. I have no right,” he says, looking back up at you. His eyes flit between yours imploringly, burdened with all the guilt he carries.

“Stop,” you say assertively, pulling your hand out from under his grasp. You can’t listen to another word. This entire relationship has been a series of failures in self-control, each one a ‘mistake’ in Maverick’s eyes for which he subsequently has taken full responsibility. You rise from your seat and gather your things mutely.

“Y/N,” he says hoarsely, standing up after you.

You shake your head. “I don’t need another apology, sir,” you say bitterly. “I just need some space.”

Maverick nods. “Of course,” he says. “And I’ve been denying you that – and I apologize –”

“I said, stop!” you exclaim, shooting him a threatening look.

Maverick trails you as you make your way to the door – the exact opposite of your request. You rush out of the briefing room, and he follows, not far behind. Thankfully, there’s no one in the hallway because he’s behaving irrationally, to say the least. He reaches for your arm and pulls you around to face him.

You gulp, staggering the moment you meet his gaze, the aching in his eyes undermining your determination.

“Let me finish,” he pleads in a whisper.

You exhale sharply. “Finish, then.”

Maverick slowly lets his hand fall away from your arm now that you’re no longer a flight risk and, this alone, hurts, because you want him to hold you forever. Even when you’re fuming, even when you’re yelling, even when you hate him.

“Seeing you,” he says slowly, evenly, as though he’s trying to compose himself as he’s talking. He takes a breath and tries again. “With another man –”

“Come on.” You scoff, even though your heart is already buzzing at the thrill of making Maverick jealous. “You can’t expect me to not date –”

“I don’t expect that,” he says. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

You think about the way you felt seeing him with Charlie and you’re instantly sorry for causing him that much pain, regardless of whether it was intentional or not.

“I was angry,” he says quietly. “At myself, mostly…” he trails off, moving his head to the side and lowering his gaze. “But also at you. And I blamed you for the way you make me feel.” He pulls his bottom lip under his teeth and grimaces. “But that’s not your fault,” he whispers shakily. “That’s on me.”

You bite into your lip to keep it steady. You wish you could look away because the devastation on his face is undoing you, but you aren’t strong enough. You take a step back and take a shuddering breath. “Please don’t look at me like that,” you say, your voice unsteady. You can barely get a grasp on his words because you’re too absorbed in his eyes.

Maverick’s eyebrows lift inward, as if your request has him concerned – or confused. “Like what?”

You roll your eyes – as if he doesn’t know like what. “Like that!” you respond as he takes a step toward you in alarm. “Just stop!” You sigh in frustration, unable to articulate your thoughts because his eyes are still commanding all of your attention.

“Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, agitated.

“It’s the way you’re looking at me,” you explain angrily.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” he asks urgently. “I need you to hear me.”

You shut your eyes and shake your head. “Enough, Maverick!” you exclaim.

Maverick stills immediately, watching you uneasily.

“You’ve been tiptoeing around me, treating me like I’m injured or in need of assistance –”

“I’m not –”

“You are and I’m tired of it. Why didn’t you call me out on the Cobra Climb?”

Maverick stares at you like you’re unhinged. “You want me to reprimand you?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “If you’re going to be my instructor – just my instructor – then instruct me. It was an idiot move and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You were distracted –”

“You’re making excuses for me! Why?”

“Don’t question my teaching methods,” Maverick says in a low voice.

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re afraid of confrontation so you’ve been avoiding me. You didn’t even think to give me a heads up about Charlie!”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “What about Charlie?”

“Whatever,” you grumble. “Just don’t stand here and proclaim that my bringing a date to the squadron dinner somehow threw you for a loop.”

Maverick studies you silently so you boldly meet his gaze. His jaw is set but there’s a tenderness in his eyes that nearly draws you in.

“Stop coddling me,” you say firmly.

You watch his Adam’s apple rise then fall as he gulps down whatever retort he decides to keep to himself. His jaw muscles contract once more as his eyes settle over your face.

You tear your gaze away. “And quit looking at me like you…” You sigh, unsure how to describe the inimitable combination of exasperation and affection you see in his eyes.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice rising in volume. You can tell that he’s becoming increasingly defensive as your blows continue.

You’re annoyed that he’s annoyed and you blurt the words out before you can stop yourself. “Like you’re in love with me or –”

“I CAN’T LOOK AT YOU ANY OTHER WAY!” he roars.

You freeze. Stunned by the volume of his voice. Stunned by the emphatic delivery. Stunned at his words.

He turns away in a huff, placing one hand on his hip while the other is balled up into a fist at his mouth.

“This was your idea,” you say quietly as he slowly turns back to look at you. You aren’t the one who refuses to even try, and he needs to acknowledge that.

“I know,” he whispers, his eyes brimming with tears.

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. “Then stop,” you implore.

He shakes his head, pulling his lips into a rigid line. “I don’t know how.”

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[simpforrooster]

i love when you call me pete.

pete ‘maverick’ mitchell x f!reader

t/w: mentions of an age gap, some smooching. drunk!maverick

summary: maverick almost drunkenly tells reader how he feels about her

a/n: lowercase intended! wrote this on my phone and have autocaps off xD two fics in one day!!!

maverick laughs as jake, one hand over his own eyes, takes aim at the dart board.

jake hits a bullseye. mav pulls out his wallet, and reluctantly hands jake a folded bill. your eyes roll at the captain’s stupidity. jake never misses a bullseye.

the guys surely hustled the poor man. mav’s hand falls on jake’s shoulder as he finishes off his beer.

“how long are you gonna stare at him?” phoenix asks with a raised brow.

“i am not staring,” you counter, knowing full well that you are indeed staring.

not that you could help it. the man may be twice your age, but he’s hot. even phoenix, happily engaged to bob, gets her an eye full of the elder captain.

you wipe down the bar in front of phoenix and hand her another lemon drop. tucking the rag in your back belt loop, you turn to hand another regular their drink.

ever since penny hired you, you’ve managed to take care of the bar almost as good as she does. she lets you take on the slower days of the week alone, and the two of you manage the weekend crowds together.

once everyone has been taken care of, you turn your attention back to your friend. you catch her admiring her ring. she looks up at you with a grin.

“sorry,” she shrugs. you shake your head.

“no indeed. i’d be gawking at that rock all day if it was mine.”

“you know you said that entire sentence looking at him and not me, right.”

you startle. she’s right. you’d basically been undressing maverick with your eyes. imagining your left hand heavy with a ring.

“you’re impossible,” she laughs.

your heart picks up its pace as maverick saunters, or better yet, sways up to the bar.

“four more, please. on my tab, babe.” maverick holds up five fingers, a giant grin on his face.

babe?

you lean over the bar and lay his thumb back against his palm. “that’s four.”

maverick looks down at you and then back to his hand. a chuckle falls languidly from his lips. “you’re right.”

phoenix raises a brow at you, out of sight from mav, who is looking at you like you’re his center of gravity.

“have i ever told you how gorgeous you are?” maverick says, still holding up those four fingers. the comment turns your insides into jelly.

“are you drunk, pete?” you ask him. there’s no way he’d be saying any of this if he were sober.

his hand falls to the bar top and his eyes fall closed. he stands there a moment, gathering himself, you assume.

his eyes open, those blue irises almost knocking you off your feet with how intense they look at you.

“i may be drunk, but that doesn’t mean i’m lying about you being gorgeous.”

phoenix grins at you over his shoulder, maverick completely oblivious to her.

no, he’s definitely only noticing you. every moved you’ve made, he’s tracked it. well, as well as he can given that he’s shitfaced.

maverick shrugs a shoulder. “maybe sober me is just nervous to tell you that.”

“pete,” you breathe. “you’re a naval aviator. there’s no way i make you nervous.”

“god, i love how you say my name,” he admits. before he can say anything else, jake and rooster appear at his side.

“come on, pops, we’ll get you home.” the men each take an arm, seeing as maverick can hardly remain upright.

he tries to shake them off. “i can’t go until i ask y/n out.”

your hand comes up to your mouth, your heart picking up pace again.

“let’s try tomorrow, mav,” rooster murmurs to his godfather. maverick vehemently shakes his head.

“no. i have to tell her now. i have to tell her i—,”

“oh no you don’t,” jake says, forcing maverick away from the bar. “you will not finish that sentence until you’re sober. she doesn’t deserve a drunk admission.”

rooster shoots you an apologetic look, handing you his card to close out the three of their tabs. you move on autopilot. punching in the men’s names, clicking on them, swiping the card, repeat. you hesitate on pete’s account. god, he did have a lot to drink.

that’s all that was. drunken words. he won’t remember any of this in the morning.

once the men are out the bar and pete is loaded in the back of the bronco, you turn to phoenix.

“what the fuck?” she screeches.

“i told them not to let him approach her with as far gone as he was,” bob comments, saddling up in the barstool next to his fiancé.

“what are you talking about, bob?” you ask.

bob shares a look with phoenix.

“you’re nuts if you’ve never seen the way he looks at you.”

“please don’t get my hopes up, bob,” you tell the bar, already fearful of those hopes plummeting once maverick comes to his senses and takes everything that just happened back.

you close out the remaining people at the bar. phoenix and bob hang around with you, walking you to your car once you’ve got the hard deck locked up.

the dagger squad take turns staying with you when you have a closing shift. they’re more protective of you than a set of new parents.

you hug your friends goodbye and drive to your apartment.

~

the next morning, your doorbell wakes you up with a start.

literally rolling out of the bed, you hit the floor tangled in your sheets. the doorbell chimes again. searching for a pair of pants, dread fills you as the doorbell rings once again.

what could be so urgent at..7 am?!

your mind runs through every possibility.

the doorbells chimes for a forth time just as you throw the door open, shrieking, “what?!”

pete mitchell stands on your stoop. he looks like hell. the two of you stare at one another, while pete grips the flowers he’s holding with a death grip.

you open the door wider, silently inviting him in. he follows you to the kitchen and settles at your island. the silence in the room thickens as you set to work making coffee. you feel his eyes on you the entire time.

“listen, y/n,” maverick starts, but you cut him off, sharply holding up a finger. you fish two mugs from your cabinet. you fill his mug to the brim, spooning two teaspoons of sugar in it. you fix yourself a little coffee with your creamer. setting the coffee in front of him, you step back and lean against the counter across him.

waving your hand, you tell him to proceed.

“i’m so sorry about last night,” he says, finally laying the flowers down. he runs his hands down the front of his jeans, wiping away the sweat.

“if you’re about to take it all back, i really don’t want to hear it, mav,” you tell him.

“mav..” he repeats to himself, looking at your counter top. “last night you called me pete.” he brings his eyes to yours.

you stare at him. okay, he remembers that.

“i don’t want to take any of it back, y/n.”

your breath catches at the back of your throat.

“i want to apologize,” he continues. “you didn’t deserve a drunken admission. i was being cowardly. because believe it or not, you’re ten times scarier than an f-18.”

when you say nothing, he keeps on.

“i know how to handle an f-18. i know what makes it work, how to get it back on track. i know that plan inside and out.” he takes a breath. “i don’t know how to navigate this. you.”

“me?”

“you. god, y/n. you have the ability to wreck me to my core. and i have so terrified to admit my feelings to you.”

“come on, pete, you can’t mean that,” you tell him, folding in on yourself.

“of course i do. the guys told me talking to you drunk was a bad idea. i thought i could handle it, but you just looked so gorgeous, i couldn’t help it.”

you are fully aware of how you looked last night during that fiasco. and gorgeous surely wasn’t it. not with your tank top and cut offs. and you know your hair had to be a mess. it always was at the end of a shift.

maverick rises from his stool. coming around the kitchen island, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking terrified as he walks over to you.

“i am sorry i tried to do this shitfaced,” he whispers, a breathe away from you. “tell me i didn’t ruin anything.”

he’s never stood this close to you, and it’s doing odd things to your heart.

“you didn’t ruin anything, pete,” you tell him. his eyes drop down to your mouth, silently asking permission. you nod, not trusting your voice to not betray how much you want this.

maverick pins you to the counter, his hands on either side of you, holding his weight off you. you speed him up by balling your hand in his shirt and pulling him down to you.

maverick grins as his mouth meets yours, falling back into his normal self. you can fill the confidence flowing through him as his hands move from the counter to your body.

his expert hands fall exactly where you need them. he deepens the kiss, his tongue running along your bottom lip. opening up to him, he pulls you tight against his body.

“fuck,” he breathes against your lips.

“tell me about it,” you murmur.

he plants tantalizing kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“pete,” you moan. he tightens his hold in response.

“i love it when you call me pete,” he says, returning his kisses to your mouth.

masterlist.

[worldofheroes]

Unexpected

pete “maverick” mitchell x fem!reader

summary: you take a shower in Maverick’s office bathroom and something unexpected (but welcomed) happens.

warnings: 18+, language, unprotected sex

wc: 968

a/n: based on this request! oh my this is… something else 😅🥵😍

“Okay, y/c/s, that’s enough. It’s late. Head back to the tarmac,” Maverick says over comms.

“One more run?” you ask.

“No, Lieutenant. Land your plane, that’s an order.”

“Yes sir,” you mutter, turning your plane around.

After you land, you go through your post-flight checklist.

“Y/c/s,” Maverick calls out.

You stop and slightly turn your head.

“You’re doing great, you know that, right?” Maverick asks.

“I can do better.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself, y/n,” Maverick whispers.

“No promises,” you mutter.

Silence falls between the two of you.

“Listen, I just want to shower and head home,” you say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“The showers are on the other side of base,” Maverick states.

“Yeah, I know?” You furrow your brow.

“My office is right over here. Has its own bathroom. I’d rather you use that one than head across base at this hour.”

“Mav, it’s a military base, I’ll be fine.”

“Please,” Maverick says.

You pause, weighing your options. If you just go with him to his office, you’ll get home faster.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Lead the way.”

Maverick nods and heads towards his office. You follow a few yards behind him.

“The bathroom’s through there,” Maverick says awkwardly, motioning towards the door.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

You push the door closed, but it doesn’t close all the way, which you don’t notice.

You start to get ready for your shower, taking your hair down, brushing it, turning the shower on, and you start to undress.

After you pull your shirt off, you look in the mirror and make eye contact with Maverick, who’s watching you.

He looks away. You open the door a couple inches more.

His eyes meet yours again in the mirror. You pull your sports bra off, leaving you now topless in front of your instructor.

Maverick steps inside the bathroom, closing the door completely behind him. He moves closer to you.

Your breath hitches in your chest. Maverick pushes your hair back out of your face.

You start to pull his shirt off, and he helps you, tossing it on the floor.

His hands slide down the sides of your body, and start to undo your pants. Your hands also make their way down his body, doing the same.

The two of you pause there, studying each other.

You step out of your underwear, and Maverick follows your lead.

A whimper escapes you. Maverick closes the space between you, and his lips land on yours. A hand caresses your face.

“Maverick,” you whisper.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells you, kissing you again.

“I need to shower,” you tell him softly.

He nods, moving his hand away from you.

You step in the shower, and shortly after, Maverick joins you.

Without realizing, you move closer to Maverick and wrap your arms around him, letting the water fall on the two of you.

You think you hear Maverick moan.

He kisses you again, pressing himself against you, and you can feel his hardening cock.

“Mav,” you whisper.

“You can’t blame me,” he says with a small smirk.

You smile slightly at the light-hearted comment. Your hand slides down his torso, and you wrap your fingers around his cock.

There’s no guessing that a moan comes from Maverick this time.

“Shit,” he mumbles.

“Do you want..?” You trail off of your sentence.

Maverick nods. “Can I?”

You nod.

Maverick gently pushes you against the tile of the shower. You gasp at the sudden coldness against your bare back.

He grabs one of your legs and lifts it up, holding on. Maverick presses the head of his cock against your center.

“Oh,” you moan. “Please,” you beg.

Maverick pushes into you.

You both moan in pleasure as he works you open.

“Fuck, Pete,” you say, throwing your head back.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he says, kissing your neck.

“You like it when I call you Pete?” you ask in a slightly teasing tone.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, burying his face into your neck.

“Then fuck me harder, Pete,” you say.

“Shit, yes ma’am,” Maverick practically growls as he thrusts harder into you.

You try to keep your moans quiet, but Maverick’s cock is hitting you just right.

“That’s it,” he encourages you.

“Oh, Mav,” you cry. “I’m gonna.. I’m gonna come.”

“Shit,” he mutters. “Where can I?”

“Fuck,” you moan. “I want your cum filling me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Pete, I want you to fill me.”

“Shit,” he mutters again.

His pace quickens even further, and you feel yourself reaching that edge.

A few more thrusts and you come undone, moaning in pleasure as Maverick reaches his orgasm moments later, cursing and saying your name.

When you both come down from your highs, Maverick kisses you, hard. He releases your leg from his grasp and you push your body against his.

“What are we going to do now?” you whisper.

“Haven’t thought about it yet,” Maverick replies, sucking on your neck.

“Mav,” you lightly scold him. “I don’t want any marks.”

“Mm,” he hums against you, now kissing your collarbone.

“Mav, seriously,” you tell him, pushing him away.

Maverick sighs. “I don’t know, y/n,” he mutters, not making eye contact.

The two of you stand in the shower in silence, the only noise being the running water.

“I still need to shower,” you mumble, looking away from your instructor.

“I’ll leave you be and try to think of something,” he says.

You nod.

Maverick leans in and pauses for just a moment before he kisses you again, this time softer and more delicate.

“I don’t think we made a mistake,” Maverick says as he steps out of the shower.

“I don’t know, Mav.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

You close your eyes, letting the water run down your body as you try to think of what to do next.

[helloitstsyu]

Confession | Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

My masterlist

Pairing : '86 Maverick x f¡reader

Summary : you have a crush on maverick, he notices. Maverick pushes you to confess.

Warnings: alluded smut. Mostly overall fluff.

Requested: by anon. Thanks for requesting i hope you enjoy!<3

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

What's to like about him? He's so full of himself and he doesn't follow the rules. He happens to be your instructor too, your commander. He is trouble. But that doesn't stop you from developing a crush on this cocky commander.

That's what you should've seen in the first place. Not his pleasing smile, amazing hair, and perfect eyes, or his impeccably hot exterior. Maverick is hot. He is damn hot. But the more turning weeks you spend in Top Gun near his presence, the more you notice what a gentleman that he actually is. And that.... made you fall even deeper for someone's out of your league.

The result of your uncontrolled emotion is that you find yourself insanely shy around him. You have no idea you can be that shy. But whenever he's around, you'd feel your heart double beating in times. Perhaps you're so scared that he'd notice, or perhaps you're too afraid to make a fool of yourself in front of him.

"Mayday, mayday, we got fuck me eyes in the area," Dingle, your RIO whispers to you.

"Gosh, Dingle!" You slap his back as he laughs contentedly.

Dingle's the only one who knows about your crush on the instructor. You didn't tell him of course, he figured it out. He said it's obvious since you acted so differently around Maverick.

"The hell are you talking about?" you play dumb and act as if it weren't true.

"Come on, Pep, you're so caught right-handed."

Looking back straight up, Maverick is across the room playing a game of pool with another naval aviator. He bends down, eyes straight and sharp as he aims for the ball to the pocket. Your eyes follow the lengths of his arms. His toned arms... your gaze just involuntarily follows the veins on his arms. Maverick then takes his shot. He hit the nail on the head, he perfectly nailed the shot. Gosh, he even makes playing pool look so hot, he makes everything look so hot.

You shake your head and palm your face. "This is getting worse, Dingle.."

"Just tell him, take your shot, Pepper," Dingle tells you.

You shake your head. The idea of telling him that you have a crush on him always makes your stomach flip. How could you? You couldn't even stare at him right in the eyes for too long.

You take a deep breath and leave a heavy sigh. "What is wrong with me?!" You ramble.

"What's wrong with you?" The voice that you're far too recognized speaks.

You reopen your eyes to find Maverick comes to you and Dingle. You widen your eyes slightly at Dingle, cursing him non-verbally to not warning you that Maverick is coming in your way.

"Something's wrong with you, Pepper? Is everything alright?" Maverick asks with concern in his eyes. He reaches out his hand to hold your arm, showing the emphaty he feels as he practically asks you whether you're okay.

"Uh... excuse me, i need to go to the toilet." Dingle says.

You quickly turn your head to him. Beg with your eyes to not leave you alone with Maverick cause god knows you couldn't comprehend it alone.

"Sir..." Dingle politely nods to Maverick before leaving us be.

Maverick looks back at you, "Uh... I'm–I'm okay, sir."

"Yeah?" Maverick skeptically wonders about your answer. Out of nowhere, an unreadable slight smirk appears on his face. "You don't really sound sure..." he smiles mischievously.

"Uh..." you chuckle awkwardly, looking down at the floor rather than back at his green eyes. "I'm sure,"

You glance back to his face. "Thanks for checking in, though, sir." You smile then eyes away from him again. You already feel your heart thumping.

Maverick purses his lips and nods. "Okay.... okay, if you say so,"

You nod. "Well... do you want to play po—"

"I'm actually-- not really feeling okay. Maybe i had too much beer... could you excuse me, i-imma go back to base." You cut Maverick before he could've finished what he's trying to say.

You stand up from your stool, and stupidly you stumble on your own feet. Maverick's quick to catch you before you fall. You look up to his face. His face stays inches above yours. You have never been this close to him. Feels like your heart is about to beat out of your chest.

"Oohh... careful," he casually says. So casually like it means nothing to him.

You stand up straight to your own feet again. Awkwardly laugh it off. "T-thanks... um, goodnight, sir." You walk hastily out the door.

-------

"Pepper," Maverick calls you out just after you rise from your seat. You've seen this coming, especially after that near hit you did earlier.

"Do you mind staying behind? I'd like a word," he says.

You exchange a look with Dingle. But eventually you wait till the last person is out of the room, leaving you and Maverick behind. You walk up to him. "Sir?" You ask.

Maverick walks around his table and sits on the edge of it, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What happened?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together.

You look down from his intense gaze, shaking your head, "I lost control of—"

"No, I'm not asking you that," he interjects. "What. Happened?" He emphasizes the question.

"We talked about what went wrong technically. But what happened? You never step out of your game." Maverick asks solemnly calm. The way he should've been furiously mad kind of making you more nervous.

"I.... i lost focus,"

"You lost focus?" Maverick repeats, eyebrows raising.

"I.... I'm sorry, sir. I-it won't happen again,"

"Lost focus.. you jeopardize your team's safety, your RIO's life."

You look down. Embarrassed by your failure. "I know, sir. My apology."

"You lost focus.." Maverick sighs, "So where was your focus? What's so important that clouded your mind, Lieutenant?"

Beat. You feel like you're pushed to the corner, checkedmate. How can you answer that? That your mind replays the scene of last night when Maverick touches you. When his face stays inches above yours?

"Uh.... um..." you stutter.

Maverick smiles mischievously, "Cat got your tongue, Lieutenant?"

"I-it's nothing, sir."

"Nothing? I don't buy it." Maverick thinly smiles.

Maverick walks towards you slowly. "Eyes on me, Lieutenant." He orders with such authority in his voice yet still sounds soft.

You feel your palm starts sweating, heart racing.

Maverick smirks. "What got your focus..?" He asks as he walks towards you ever so softly. Making the room feels a drop temperature hotter. "Or... rather.. who?".

"I- i- uh...." You feel your lips trembling so you bite on them.

His eyes drop to witness the scene. "You.... what?" He mutter, eyes locked to your lips. That made your knees limp, you feel like you're about to pass out.

He keeps taking a step closer to you till there's no more room, and he's invading your personal space. You could feel the warmth of his breath fanning to your lips. His eyes look deeply into yours, like he's digging onto you. Your chest heaves. And the closeness of him makes you dizzy. "Y/N," his voice calls you back into reality. Maverick softly grazes his fingers over yours.

You couldn't think clearly with him in mere inches away from you. So the next thing out of your mouth just slipped before you caught yourself. "I have a crush on you." You breathlessly confess.

Maverick's smile slowly can not be attained. The way he says nothing and just smiles there sends you into an anxiety loop, so you ramble on stupid things all at once. "I- i know it's stupid. I'll–I'll get over it. I shouldn't have—" Maverick slipped his hand behind the nape of your neck and just shut you up with his lips seal to yours.

It surprises you at first but, you feel your soul leaves your body. You close your eyes and just sink into him.

Once he breaks away the kiss, your mind buzzes from the after impact of it. Reopening your eyes again, you meet the heavenly greens of his eyes and his perfect smile. "I knew," Maverick retorts softly.

"You're not so hard to read, Pepper,"

You chuckle. Feeling your cheek already burning. "This is a dream," you mutter.

Maverick grins. "Well, Y/N, tell me... can your dream feel this?" Maverick presses his lips to yours again. Hand circling around you and bring you closer to him while the other keeps holding the nape of your neck.

With your body completely pressed to his. Hands to each other's body, and tongue starts colliding in a passionate rhythm, you didn't bother to think whether this is real or not. Even if it's a dream, you want it to last because Maverick tastes like a pure ecstasy. The moment he takes a step forward, pushing you back till you find yourself presented against a table. Any moral misgivings have left the room, and both of you are hurrying to have more taste of each other. Maverick grabs your jaw, set your face aside to have access to your neck. He kisses your neck, starts soft, then gradually picks up his pace. He sucks and nibs the sensitive skin, traveling all around, finding your one spot that got you ticking.

"Maverick..." You whimper.

The exit out of this is already too far. None of you both can stop the overdriving temptation. Your fingers grip on his shoulders. The more he sucks and nibs, the more heat you feel in between your legs. You keep pulling him closer as if there's any gap left. You could feel his hard on pressing onto your center, that sends your mind even more rattling than before. You try to hold back your moans but find yourself helplessly to do so.

His hand explores all your body. Groping your breast from outside of your suit. He's moments away from unzipping your flight suit but a distraction come,  and you both hear a dim voice of the Admiral coming.

Quickly, Maverick leaps off you, just in time for Admiral Caine opening the door. Still with ragged breath, you hold onto the ledge of the table for dear life, your mind still buzzing from the pleasure seconds ago.

"Sir," Maverick stands up straight and slightly nods at the admiral. He's so unbothered as if nothing has happened just seconds ago. While you're still.... trying to compose yourself.

Admiral Caine looks at the both of you. Something must've pass his mind because you could see the skeptically in his eyes. But he knock it off and instead calls Maverick for a word.

Maverick glances at you before leaving the room without saying any words. The moment the door slams close, that's when you truly can breathe.

Dreams do always stop whenever it's getting good.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Planes, Love, & Rock ‘n Roll 🎸🩶| Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar!reader (romantic), Bradley Bradshaw x reader (mother/son-type relationship), Dagger Squad (platonic)

📨 = requested works | TGM Main Masterlist

Content warnings: Fluff, slight profanity, flirtatious banter, light suggestive content, mentions of past drug use. | Female!reader (she/her)

Series Summary 🩶: The Dagger Squad didn’t know much about their former instructor turned friend, Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. Only Rooster had insight on all there was when it came to the famous pilot, and his love life certainly fell into that. When the squad shows up unannounced to Maverick’s San Diego home for his birthday weekend, they are greeted with the shock of the lifetime when it’s revealed Maverick’s lady once ruled the radio of the decade they were born in. And what better way for them to properly meet one of the greatest rockstars to ever exist than by attending the bands reunion concert that night.

Imagines:

It's A Long Way To The Top

The Rockstar, Her Husband, & Their Dagger Ducklings

The Daughter of Rock 'N Roll 📨

The Romantics 📨

Memory Lane 📨

Social Media AU:

Part 1

[cinebration]

Dogfight Preview (Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Reader) [One-shot]

Premise: Maverick gives a lesson on dogfighting.

Warnings: none

Gif Source: unicornships

“You’re Maverick.”

Maverick glanced up from the perspiring beer bottle in his hands and squinted against the sunlight. You resolved suddenly into focus as you stepped into the light, relieving him of the blinding rays.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he answered, frowning. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so.”

Maverick leaned back in his seat and took stock of you, the furrow in his brow deepening. You wore a black shirt, your flight suit unzipped and tied around your waist. He couldn’t read your expression as you met his gaze.

“I need help in dogfighting,” you said, as though picking up that his appraisal was over. “You’re the best dogfighter here.”

Maverick couldn’t help the faint smile that touched his lips. “I just have experience.”

“Hence why I’m here asking.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m allowed to do one-on-ones.”

“I could get Admiral Simpson’s authorization.” You glanced over your shoulder at the crashing waves along the shoreline. “Although I doubt he’ll like being bothered with this.”

Anything with Maverick’s name attached was likely to stick in Cyclone’s craw, that much was certain. Maverick followed your gaze out over to the surf, attention arrested occasionally by the swoop and dive of seagulls.

“You’re not part of the team,” he stated carefully.

“Not right now, no. But getting trained by a legend would certainly help that.”

Nodding, Maverick pushed himself out of his chair. “Why the hell not? I haven’t been up in the air today yet.”

A sharp smile spread over your face, the kind Maverick had seen on some of the most eager pilots—himself included. He smiled back, crossing the sand with you wordlessly.

This will be fun, he thought.

~~

Forty minutes later, you both were up in the air. Maverick stayed low and behind you, glancing up through the cockpit to see your bird’s silhouette up against the bright blue sky.

“Are you a book learner or a hand’s on learner?” he asked.

Your voice came through the headset with a faint metallic background. “Sir?”

“Is it better if I talk you through it or if I show you?”

A few seconds of silence.

“Show me,” you answered.

Maverick swore he heard a challenge in your voice.

Alright, you asked for it.

Pulling hard on the throttle, Maverick climbed hundreds of feet through the air, bee-lining straight toward you.

He streaked past your wing, the sudden displacement of air nearly sending you rolling.

“Fight’s on,” he declared, swinging back around.

“Clearly,” he heard you mutter over the radio.

He chuckled.

Maverick moved to get behind you. You veered off, slipping just out of his targeting system.

“Not bad,” he said. “But I was going easy on you.”

“Oh, really?”

In answer, Maverick accelerated, the jet screaming as it followed his lead. He whipped around, his nose almost aligned with you. His targeting system fought hard to center on the box.

You pulled up hard, flying straight into the sun.

A smirk pulled at his lips. Not bad at all.

He caught you decelerating and dropping altitude in an attempt to slide under his belly and come out behind him. Mirroring you, he fell back behind you, the targeting system once again searching frantically for the box on your back.

You dropped out of the sky.

“Holy shit.” Maverick craned his head through the window of the cockpit, trying to catch you beneath him. “Haven’t seen that in a while.”

He pulled up sharply, looping back to force you ahead of him and to give him a chance to glimpse you in the sky. You were just underneath him, almost down to the hard deck. He gunned the throttle as you zipped forward, bringing his nose around.

You rolled.

The dogfight lasted for twenty minutes before Maverick finally got tone.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, smiling into his mask.

You slowed down in defeat, the radio silent on your end.

“How was that?”

“Informative,” you answered.

He frowned and watched you break off, heading back to base. A moment later, he followed.

~~

Maverick crossed the tarmac to you as you climbed out of the cockpit and tore off your helmet. It was jet black, angled away from him so he couldn’t see if you had earned a call sign yet.

“That was good,” he said. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“I never said I hadn’t done it before,” you answered carefully. “I just needed the practice.”

“Well, you’ve got a pretty strong foundation, I’ll give you that.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, I have a demonstration tomorrow morning. Me and another TOPGUN hotshot are gonna show the rookies how it���s done. You should come watch, maybe learn a few things.”

He held his breath.

You flashed a smile at him. “I’ll be there.”

“Great.”

Nodding, you waved goodbye and strode off in the direction of the hangers. Hondo crossed the tarmac in the opposite direction, heading to Maverick. He paused as you passed him, exchanged a few words and a laugh.

Maverick frowned.

“You know her?” he asked when Hondo could hear him.

“Sure, that’s Reaper.”

“Reaper?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d she earn that name?”

“You never see her coming until it’s too late.”

He thought back to the dogfight. “Doesn’t seem too accurate.”

“Were you guys planning for tomorrow?”

Maverick faced Hondo. “What?”

“For tomorrow’s demonstration.” Hondo’s eyebrows knitted together. “You know you’re fighting her tomorrow, right?”

Maverick’s gaze whipped across the tarmac to you as you disappeared into a hanger. “She was testing me,” he muttered. “She probably wasn’t even really flying.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” A grin of disbelief split his lips. “Just that tomorrow is gonna be fun.”

[emmedoesntdomath]

ice, stirring his cake batter, not looking up: no.

mav, who had been reaching around him to stick his finger in said batter: I wasn’t gonna!

ice, smacking away his other hand: uhuh

~ mav, casually leaning against the counter: hey, babe, I was thinking- SHIT

ice, pretending that he didn’t just hip-check mav away from the icing he had been trying to taste: yes, dear?

~ *hours later*

*mav sneaking into the kitchen at 1AM to get a little bit of the cake he knows ice hid in the pantry*

ice, sleepily, from their bedroom: don’t even think about it

mav, jumping out of his skin: hOW THE FUCK-

[call-sign-shark]

✨ Might As Well Face It ✨

Summary: It started with sex, and it ended up with Pete Maverick Mitchell addicted to your love.

Words: 1.5k Tags:  masturbation, big smut allusions, love confession, age gap, student/teacher relationship, Pete is fucking addicted to you &lt;3

notes: Here is my contribution to @roosterforme 's playlist challenge Love is in the Air TGM. My song was Robert Palmer's Addicted to Love! Here, treat yourself with a video of Tom Cruise singing that song! This is also self-indulgent because I used my own call sign, Shark, for this xReader one shot. Enjoy! 💚

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He had kissed her.

No, worst than that. He had fucked her. 

His student. 

His twenty-five-years-younger-than-him student.

It all started two months ago when he decided to have a drink at the Hard Deck to relieve the stress of the day. Coyote almost crashed his plane for he had fainted during a maneuver. Fortunately enough, he managed to wake up before it was too late. Following this anxious event, all Pete wanted was a few beers, a hot shower, and a good night of sleep. When he sat at the bar counter, his eyes fell on you - you were dancing and singing to the rhythm of Addicted to Love’s electric guitars. You, the student who had driven him crazy since day one. 

He had sipped on his beer, his eyes burning with desire as he enjoyed the sight of your attractive body swinging. His focus shifted from your bratty face to your curves: first, he watched your breasts bouncing at each movement and could not help imagining how good it would feel to lay kisses on them. Then, he looked at your hips he could easily imagine grabbing while fucking you. Finally, he had bitten his lips when looking at your butt - Gosh, the only thing he wanted was spanking it to punish you for arousing him like that. He might have drunk a bit too much or maybe was it his young self breaking free, he could not tell.  Still, he had waited until you decided to leave and offered to bring you home with his motorcycle. The last thing he remembered was you, pinned against the wall of your bedroom, as he filled you with his cum.

Hot water was raining down on Pete Mitchell, who had buried his face in his forearm that was resting against the wet tiles of the shower walls. His heart sweated.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

He asked himself out loud, his breath shaky. He growled with pleasure. His free hand was holding his cock firmly, moving up and down along his length. Fuck - he had never been so hard in his entire life. The slow and languid strokes he had started with quickly turned into frenzied movements. Each time Pete closed his eyes, his mind was assaulted with the memories of your heated encounter. He could still hear your voice chanting, calling him “Sir” as he pounded you with his hips crashing against yours at each thrust.  His body shook.

After that first fuck, he had told her it was a mistake and that they should not do it again…Only to pound her harder two days later, right in the hangar in which he reached his lessons to the squad.  Another kiss was what it took.

“Fucking brat…” 

He swore, hating you for making him feel that way. 

“She could be your fucking daughter, you dumbass.” 

He swore again, hating himself for wanting you so bad. All his muscles tightened for the fire burning in his abdomen became far too much to handle. Pete threw his head back and let out a long, masculine, and final moan. His cock throbbed while releasing his seed. 

He remained there, motionless and panting, stars dancing in front of him. 

Damn, something was definitely wrong with him. 

That was why, two weeks ago, he left you in the morning. On your nightstand, there was a little paper plane with a note written on it.

He tried. He really tried to resist - He even did his best to avoid you. But those last two weeks without you had been the worst of his life. And here he was, jerking off constantly, thinking about you, and suffering from both physical and mental withdrawal symptoms.

After a while, Pete got out of the shower and grabbed a towel he wrapped around his sharp hips. He ran one of his hands through his wet hair to slick them back and looked at his own reflection in the mirror. Despite masturbating in the shower two times in a row, the Captain’s throat was still tight and he could barely breathe.  It has been only two weeks but his body wanted more of you. His soul wanted more of yours.

He could never get enough of you.

His brows furrowed at the piercing green eyes that were looking back at him, afraid of the feelings blazing in his heart. He could not believe it. Pete Mitchell used to think he was immune to the stuff - and by stuff, he meant love stuff. He was the one who broke hearts. He was the one making girls go crazy - at least when he was younger. 

What was he supposed to do? The wiser thing was to eat something and go to sleep, but he could barely do that since your last encounter for his mind was clouded by all the thoughts he had about his hot student and her sweet liquor lips he craved so much it hurt. Maverick, the man and legend, might as well face it: he was addicted to love. Torn between his reasonable self and his feelings, Pete’s mind was tormented.

Should he stick to the good decision of not flirting with his student? Or should he risk losing everything to be by her side?  The man shook his head and grabbed his clothes to put them back on. He had made his decision - another kiss is what he needed. 

The entrance’s door slammed behind him, for he almost run to his motorcycle. Riding it, he took a quick look at his watch to check the time. It was 9 pm but he could not care less: he needed to talk to you. He needed to see you, to kiss your lips, to touch your body, and to sink in your arms, apologizing for the stupid decision he took when he left you all alone in that motel room. 

Pete drove to your house, enforcing the speed limits Maverick style. When he arrived in front of your home, he got up from his bike and knocked at the door. His heart beat in double-time as he waited for you to answer. One, two, three minutes passed but no one came to the door. Pete’s seductive smile faded from his good-looking face. Maybe you were not home?

He took a few steps back, his emerald eyes watching through the living room’s windows. His brows furrowed when he noticed that the lights were on inside your house. After another few minutes, Pete lowered his head, disappointment on his face. Why would you talk to him after he dumped you with a paper note and avoided you for two full weeks? A long sigh escaped from his lips before he pinched the bridge of his nose as if he could feel a headache coming.

“I’m a fucking idiot…”  He said to himself, out loud. Goose was probably facepalming himself up in Heavens, for he had never stopped being the same loser with girls he was when he was young.

“Yes, you’re a fucking idiot Pete Mitchell.” 

Pete jumped at the sudden feminine voice he heard right behind him. He turned around and was welcomed by the blessed sight of your beautiful silhouette. He opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out. Your beautiful eyes unsettled him.

Your instructor wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, realizing that he can’t be saved anymore. The mere fact of facing you again had him damned for eternity

“Cat got your tongue, Sir?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. Your mischievous eyes stared at him.

“I’m sorry Shark.” He finally managed to utter. 

“I know, that’s what you wrote on your stupid little paper plane.” 

“No, you don’t understand. I am really sorry.” 

Pete walked towards you. He was close, so close that your chest was almost pressed against his. You raised your head towards him to keep looking dagger at his green eyes.

“I was terrified. Terrified because I realized can’t live without you. I can’t and I don’t want to. I’ve felt more alive the past two months than I did in my entire life. But the truth is I am twenty-five years older than you, on top of being your teacher."

"That's why you fucked your student daily for two months and dumped her."

"I was afraid of getting fired but I don’t care anymore. All I want is to be with you and never leave.” 

"Seriously Pete. As if this Valentine's Day was not shitty enough... "

"I'm serious Shark. I don't want to leave anymore."

His eyes glimmered as he talked to you. He was struggling to hold back his tears.

A small twinge of pain pinched your heart at the sight of the legendary Maverick struggling to express the feeling he had for you. One look at his emerald eyes and all the grudge you hold against him disappeared.  What kind of superpowers he had, you thought.

“Pete.” You gently pressed the palm of your hand against his sharp jaw.

“I’m so sorry, I swear I am,” His gaze dived into yours. 

A smirk stretched the corner of your lips. Somehow, that apology was all you needed. Your fingers brushed his warm skin and traced the crow’s feet at the outer corner of one of his eyes. It was true, he was old enough to be your dad. And you could both get in trouble for your relationship... But you fell for Captain Mitchell.

And he fell. Harder.

“Might as well face it, Mitchell. You’re addicted to love.” 

“No,” he retorted, “I’m addicted to your love, Dear.” 

“Fucking idiot” You could not help but chuckle. The kind of bratty chuckle that sent Maverick to Heavens just by listening to it.

“Your idiot.” He whispered, his face coming closer to kiss you. Yet, you stopped him by pressing your index fingers on his lips. Surprised, Pete looked at you, perplexed.

"Another kiss, and you'll be mine." Your voice sang, quietly, words candy-coated with malice.

Pete snorted, amused. The way his eyes squinted when he smiled was irresistible. He chased away your finger with a head movement, only to capture your lips with his.

He was ready to risk it.

What did he have to lose? After all, he was already yours.

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credits:

Gif by @pohjanneito Mav's handwritting font by @k9effect

[rebelliousstories]

Cranberry

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Reader

Fandom: Top Gun

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Death, Light Angst

Word Count: 2,100

Masterlist: Here

Summary: A certain unusual flavor that has held a special spot in the Mitchell and Bradshaw family every Christmas.

Christmas 1985

“Alright! I’m here! I’m here! I’ve got the goods!” Pete’s loud voice rang out into the government issued housing known as, the Bradshaw abode. A two foot tall blur came barreling towards his knees, and it was only a split second decision that still kept them in tack. He grabbed the youngest Bradshaw and hoisted him hip on to his hip.

“Uncle Pete!” Bradley exclaimed, hugging his favorite uncle. The man hugged him close, never once letting go of the boy or the bags in his hand.

“Hey bud! Oh, I missed you.” His words were music to the woman’s ears as a certain blonde haired lady rounded the corner.

“Pete!” Carol exclaimed, piling on to the hug that was started without her. Maverick took one arm and wrapped it around her, while pressing a brotherly kiss to her cheek.

“Hey Carol.” Pete took a deep breath in, finally enjoying being able to relax a bit with his closest friends.

“Oh, so this is where everyone went.” One more set of arms piled on to the group hug and encompassed them all.

“Hi sweetie.” Pete teased at his taller friend.

“Hiya hun.” Nick threw back at him. The one great thing about their friendship, is that each one could give as good as they got. But they were there to enjoy time as a family. Slowly but surely, each layer peeled away to reveal the bags that were still in Pete’s hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Should’ve taken these first, Pete. Here let me get those.” Carol tried to reach for the bags, but Maverick went head and stepped towards the kitchen to set them down. As he did, he felt Bradley being pulled from his arms by Goose, allowing him to move freely.

“I got it, Carol. Just tell me where you want stuff.” He offered, watching the woman fight every bone in her body not to take over.

“I just… well, alright.” While Carol and Maverick were busy in the kitchen, Bradley and Goose were busy playing with each other in the living room. A huge tree sat in the corner, complete with lights, ornaments, garland and other pretty decorations. It provided endless hours of entertainment as Bradley was still so little. He was amazed by the lights and colors coming from the tree.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Pete and Carol were having a blast doing the last minute preparations for their big Christmas dinner. Turning the giant turkey in the oven and basting it, toasting up some Hawaiian rolls, making the side dishes, and most importantly making the cranberry sauce. It was the one thing that Carol always insisted on making from scratch herself. An old family recipe that had been passed down for generations. It had become a staple of any holiday meal, or even one made on special occasions.

The family sat down for their meal, and Carol set the cranberry sauce delicately down on their table. For the rest of the night, there was conversation, laughter and entertainment in general. The cranberry sauce was always the highlight of the meal. No one was allowed to know exactly what or how much of anything was put into the sauce, but none of them cared. No one cared what she put in the sauce, only that it was delicious and a staple of their table.

//

Christmas 2020

“Babe! I’m back from the store. I got everything you needed.” A feminine voice rang out, carrying bags into the home. Pete wiped his hands down on a rag before stepping out into the foyer to help her with them.

“Thank you for getting these, dear. It really helped.” Maverick grabbed majority of the bags and pressed a loving kiss to his partners lips, before moving to the kitchen to prepare the very last thing they had to make. An old, and worn recipe card laid on the counter amongst all the ingredients that they needed for this particular dish.

“You’re welcome, Mav. Do you need or want any help?” She wrapped her arms around his body and pressed another kiss in between his shoulder blades. Maverick pressed his hands to her arms, yet shook his head.

“No, I got this. You go ahead and get ready for company. I’ll take care of this.” And with that, Maverick stayed in the kitchen while his lover went off to go get ready. He tried to follow the recipe as closely as he could, but these were written in not quite so accurate measurements. Finally, he understood when she used to say, “southern measurements.” It confused him to no end. A pinch, a smidge, a helping; these did not make sense. How much were each of them? By the time he finished the batch, his lover appeared from their bedroom, looking refreshed and festive in her brilliant red sweater.

“Mav, you okay honey?” Her hands trailed up his arms while he was standing over the pot on the stove.

“Will you taste this?” Pete gave the spoon with a small helping of the sauce to her lips. When she tasted it though, her face scrunched up in displeasure.

“How is it both too sweet and too salty?” She questioned, staring at the offensive cranberry sauce.

“I don’t know. I can’t understand these measurements so it didn’t turn out like I had hoped.” Maverick admitted, thrusting the card in front of her eyes. They scanned over the card and turned to her partner with a certain mischievous grin.

“Would you like me to help?” She teased, already getting to work on restarting their work station.

“If you think you can do better, be my guest.” He waved his arm to the mess he had made. She worked to first clean and dispose of the cranberries that had been used already, before setting up to try again.

As she read the recipe card, and followed the corresponding instructions, Pete was suddenly thrust back to all those years ago. Every Christmas and Thanksgiving where he watched Carol move around the kitchen to make this simple dish. He had a hard time shaking the memories of Carol and her loud, obnoxious singing that would inevitably bring him and Goose into. The way she would dance with Nick in the kitchen as she finished up their meals, or after them.

His mind blended them together, unable to discern one from the next. It brought him a sense of comfort that he had not felt since her untimely death. She seemed to understand the writings on the small piece of paper, as her movements never slowed preparing the dish. Turning off the stove, she set the pot off to the side to cool and grabbed a new spoon to scoop out a bit of the sauce to try. She blew on it to cool it down even faster and after several attempts to eat it, it was finally the perfect temperature for her to sample. Letting out a pleased hum, she grabbed another spoon and gave it to Maverick. He, too, stuck it in the cooling pot, and blew on it a few times before bringing it to his lips to enjoy. But he could not enjoy it. All that he could do was keep tears at bay. Noticing her lover bent over the counter with the heels of his palms in his eyes, she set her spoon down and wrapped her arms around the pilot.

“Mav, what’s wrong?” She asked, and he heard, but he could not bring any words to his lips.

“Pete?” She pried once more, and got an embrace in return. The man had turned around and brought her into his arms, while placing his head into the crook of her neck. There was no noise from the man, but there was a wet spot slowly forming on her sweater from where his head laid. She did not try to get him to talk anymore, just stroked a hand through his hair and over his back as he worked through whatever he was feeling at the moment. His tears slowed, as did the shake in his shoulders, to a point where he felt comfortable enough to pull his head from her neck. Pete wiped his hands across his face, trying desperately to remove the evidence of tears, however her hands caught the few stragglers that were still falling.

“I’m sorry. That just… that tastes exactly like how Carol made it every year. And your mannerisms are so similar in the kitchen. I’m sorry.” Tears welled up in Maverick’s eyes, but none dared fall. That was until she returned her hands to his face to cup it so gingerly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Mav. It’s okay to miss her. It’s okay to still hurt when you think about her.” She assured him, stroking gently over his cheeks. Pete grabbed her hands in his, and turned to place a soft kiss to each palm, before taking the hands from his face and holding her close.

“Thank you.” He whispered, leaning in to steal a kiss straight from the source. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, and enjoyed the feeling of closeness with her lover before they both were drawn away by the sound of a door opening. Turning in his arms, the couple watched a young mustachioed pilot walk through the door, taking off his boots, and removing his sunglasses.

“Mav?” He called out. The couple turned back to each other, and disengaged to go greet the man. Bradley stood in a Christmas patterned Hawaiian shirt, which Maverick was shocked he could even find but he guessed anything was possible with the internet now. Once the couple came into view, the woman ran up and greeted him.

“Bradley! So good to have you here.” She hugged him close, and he allowed himself the small bit of affection.

“Good to be here, Mrs. M.” He responded, only drawing back when she did.

“Bradley.” Pete now greeted, with a handshake, but that quite got drawn into a hug as well.

“Uncle Pete.” Both men knew what he said, but neither dwelled on it for too long. They pulled away as well, and went to the table. Both men grabbed plates of food, and set them down on the table. However, Bradley was stunned to notice the homemade cranberry sauce on the table. It looked so similar to-

“Alright, boys. Dig in.” Everyone went to work plating and serving themselves the bountiful feast before them. The couple placed a little bit of cranberry sauce on their plates, but when Pete passed the dish to Bradley, he refused.

“Sorry. I don’t like cranberry sauce.” He dismissed the plate that was still in the older pilot’s grip.

“Just try it, Bradley. Trust me.” Thy stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, before the younger pilot took the dish from Maverick, and dished some onto his plate. The couple watched Rooster as he tore off a chunk of bread and reluctantly ate the cranberry sauce on his plate; wanting to get it out of the way to hopefully wash down the store bought taste with the rest of his food. But this did not taste store bought. This tasted homemade. This tasted exactly like the cranberry sauce he ate growing up when his mom was still alive.

He could not believe what was in front of him now. In disbelief, he stared at Pete, who simply nodded his head with a wide grin plastered on his face. Turning, Pete’s lover was staring nervously at the man, hoping she did it justice.

“Did you make this?” Rooster whispered, fearing if he raised his voice even a little bit, that he would break whatever spell this one little dish had over him.

“Mav found an old recipe card that your mom had when she would make this. He tried to make it but he can’t read southern measurements like a woman can.” She joked, jabbing her eyes towards said man teasingly. Bradley vaguely heard a, “they’re so confusing,” and “not real measurements,” from the man, but his ears were rushing, drowning out all sound. Eventually, he took another bite, and another, and another, till there was no more sauce on his plate. It tasted like home. A home he had lost and never found his way back to yet.

“Thank you.” Bradley looked the woman in the eyes, hoping that his sincerity came across as much as he felt it. She rubbed his shoulder from here she sat, and everyone turned back to their meal.

[topgun-imagines]

Will You Be My Wife?

Requested: yes

Summary: on Valentines Day, Maverick finally asks you to marry him. 18+

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Smut.

Pairings: Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x fem!reader

Maverick fiddled anxiously with the small velvet box in his pocket. He was standing outside your door with a bouquet of flowers in hand. Normally, Maverick never would have been this nervous to have dinner with a woman. But you seemed to change everything about him. You were the one person that was able to make Maverick rethink how he acted. Now, he wasn’t as much of a lady's man as he was before. Ever since you came into his life, Mav found himself more anxious to please you and make sure that you got what you needed. He found that he loved you more than he ever thought possible. Which is why tonight, he planned on proposing to the love of his life; you. 

Maverick sucked in a breath before knocking on the door, glancing around nervously as he waited. You pulled open the door moments later, smiling widely when you saw your boyfriend. Stepping aside, you opened the door wider and invited him in. Once he was beside you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek as he passed you the bouquet. It was a beautiful bunch of red roses. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Happy Valentine's Day, Baby.” He murmured against your skin. You smiled up at him before moving into the kitchen to find a vase. Mav followed after you. 

When the two of you stepped into the kitchen, Maverick was instantly hit with the smell of biscuits and stew. There were candles on the table and a bottle of wine in the middle. Mav smiled at the thought that you had put into it. A little while after you started dating, Mav told you that his favorite meal was biscuits and stew. His mother had always made them for him as a hood. It was like a comfort meal for him. 

Mav waited as you filled the case with water and put the flowers in. Then, he pulled out your chair for you and gestured for you to sit down. Once you were comfortable in your seat, he moved to the other side of the table and sat down as well. You and Maverick both dished up, both digging into your food once you were ready. Mav groaned in pleasure as the delicious taste of the stew exploded across his taste buds. You smiled, happy to know that he was enjoying the meal. 

The rest of dinner passed quickly, both you and Maverick grabbing one last biscuit before you were finished. Once you were finished with your biscuit, you moved to go stand from the table, ready to start washing dishes. However, just as you were about to stand up, Mav’s hand shot out to grab yours, pulling you back down with a pleading expression. You could have sworn that he looked nervous. You sat back in your chair, fixing Mav with a confused expression as you waited for him to talk. As he cleared his throat, Mav stood from the chair and moved to stand beside you. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him suck in a large breath. Before you even knew what was happening, Mav was fishing something from his pocket and dropping to a knee. You gasped quietly and moved your shaking hands up to cover your mouth. Your boyfriend smiled up at you before he began speaking. “Honestly, baby, I had a whole speech planned. But now, here in front of you, it’s like I’ve lost all words,” The last part was a breathless whisper, his eyes glancing over you as if he couldn’t believe that you were his. Tears lined your lashes. He brought the box up in front of you, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “I love you, baby. And that is never going to change,” He opened the lid of the box slowly. “So, will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?” 

A sob bubbled up and out of your chest, causing the tears to steady down your face. Maverick watched you nervously, waiting for the worst to happen. “Oh my god,” You whispered quietly. “Yes. Of course I’ll marry you, Pete.” Maverick's face split into a wide grin, his own lashes holding unshed tears. Grabbing your hand, Mav slipped the beautiful ring onto your finger, before leaning up and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. One of your hands wound into his hair as the other rested on the back of his neck. “I love you. So much.” You gasped into his mouth. 

Maverick hummed against your lips before pulling away. “I love you too, honey,” You instantly captured his lips in a kiss once more. Mav groaned deep in his throat when you bit down on his bottom lip. With one last kiss, Maverick pulled away from you causing you to whine quietly. With a smirk, Maverick suddenly scooped you out of the chair and began carrying you up the stairs. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.” You grinned up at him before you began pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw. His jaw instantly tightened. A groan spilled from your lips as you sucked a mark into his sweet spot, biting into it lightly afterward. 

When you finally reached the bedroom, Mav dropped you onto the bed causing you to giggle softly. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you watched Mav strip off his shirt, revealing his extremely defined abs. His jeans were next, leaving him standing in front of you in his plain white boxers. With a large smile on his face, Mav moved up the bed toward you, coming to a stop when he was directly above you. With a grin, you slipped your shirt off and tossed it off the bed. Maverick began kissing up your neck as his hand reached around your back, undoing your bra in mere seconds. 

Your pants followed soon after, leaving both you and your fiancé in your underwear. As Maverick kissed across the expanse of your chest, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth causing you to let out a content sigh, his hand trailed down your body, coming to a stop at the top of your panties. A high-pitched whine escaped you when his fingers slipped under the band and began rubbing delicate circles around your clit. You moaned breathlessly as one of his fingers moved lower, teasing around your entrance. “Please.” You moaned out. Maverick sucked a deep purple mark into your skin before soothing it with his tongue. Moments later you felt one of his fingers prod at your entrance. 

His finger slipped into you, causing you to groan out in pleasure. As your fiancé slowly worked up open, your hand trailed down his abs to his boxers, palming him over the thin fabric. He moaned into your ear, picking up the pace at which his fingers moved inside of you. A second one joined the first as you thumbed over the tip of his cock. You moaned out as his fingers began massaging your spongy insides, pulling moan after moan from your parted lips. Mav rutted his hips against your hand, seeking the pleasure that only you could give him. It never felt the same when it was his own hand. 

You cried out loudly as his fingers sped up inside of you, hitting the sweet spot that only he knew how to find. The coil began forming in your belly. You gripped his cock firmly, spreading the pre-cum that had gathered on his tip across his boxers. He groaned deeply into your ear. High-pitched moans continued to fall from your lips as Maverick steered you toward the edge. Your cunt tightened around his fingers as you reached your high, loud cries echoing off the walls of the bedroom as you came on his fingers. Mav worked you through your orgasm, only stopping when you began to pull away, oversensitivity causing you to squirm. 

You panted lightly as Mav pulled back, fingers slipping from your dripping cunt. Mav pulled your panties down, pressing a kiss to your clit as he did. You moaned quietly at the contact, fingers clutching at the sheets desperately. His boxers were removed seconds later, Mav groaning as he fisted his cock. He moved back up the bed, pumping himself a few times before he dragged the thick head of his cock through your wetness. His lips were suddenly on yours, occupying every part of your mind as he spread your legs. The next thing you knew, he was slipping inside of you in one fluid motion. You both groaned quietly at the feeling. You tossed your head to the side at the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out, your eyes catching sight of the diamond ring on your hand glinting in the dim light. 

Mav slowly began rutting his hips into yours, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. He continued working his cock into you, pulling noises from you that you didn’t even know you could make. Your fiancé groaned as his head ducked down and rested against your neck. He began kissing your soft skin, occasionally nipping at it as he worked himself in and out of you. The sweet drag of your velvety walls against his cock was causing him to lose himself faster than he normally did. “I’m gonna come.” Mav warned you, thrusting into you sloppily as he worked the both of you toward your highs. 

“Me too.” You moaned quietly, fingers weaving into his hair and tugging harshly. His hips snapped into you, once, twice, three more times before he was spilling into you, his sticky release coating your walls. You moaned loudly as his thumb pressed against your clit, pulling your second orgasm of the night from you. Mav rutted into you a few more times before his hips stilled. Collapsing on top of you, he kissed over the marks that he left before slipping his softening cock from your spent hole. You whined quietly at the emptiness. 

Maverick maneuvered the two of you until you were resting against his chest, his fingers stroking over your hair softly. You stayed like that for the next few minutes, both of you simply enjoying laying there with each other. Your head was on his shoulder, tracing intricate patterns into his skin with your fingers as your eyes drifted shut. It was when you felt something prod at the skin of your thigh that you pulled your eyes open. Glancing down, you were met with the sight of Mav’s stiffening cock. You quirked an eyebrow, looking up to find him staring at you with a cheeky smile. “Round two?” He questioned before rolling on top of you. Needless to say, you were in for a long night. 

A/n: Thank you all for reading! Happy Valentine’s Day. Requests are open.

[shelfwar]

|Oh Wow|

Maverick X Reader !period!

WARNINGS: PERIODS, PERIOD PRODUCTS, NUDITY, USE OF WORDS. BLOOD, CRAMPS, MAVERICK BEING HORNY, 🔞 ILLUSION TO SEX

"Alrighty, first things first. Tazer you will be with Red temporarily as of today y/n is out for the day." Viper said as Tazer looked at me worried, wondering where his pilot was at today and honestly you didn't know where y/n was at.

After briefing for our exercise you jogged up to Viper. "Hey Viper." "Yes, Maverick?" "Where is y/n at?" "Said her stomach was hurting and she said she was afraid that she might hurl in the jet." "Ok, thank you sir."

You held onto your waist as the terrible cramps came in as waves, indicating its gonna be a rough period. Breathing though your nose you sucked in a deep breath before exhaling slowly clearing away the nausea.

You slowly sat up in bed and slowly made your way over to your dresser to dig out some comfortable clothing you only saved for this time of the month. Heading over to the bathroom you started a nice hot bath in hopes the warmth would ease the cramps.

Once the water was were you wanted you turned of the faucet and started to strip off your clothes, as you also took out your tampon and threw it into the garbage.

After that you stepped into the warm bath with a groan letting the water consume your body as you lowered yourself to the bottom.

99% of the day you spent your "day off" in bed resting so that you could be in the air tomorrow. You had called Viper that morning informing him what was going on and he surprisingly said yes to your sick day.

You closed your eyes as your body started to relax into the warm tub. Wanting to get your hair wet you slid down further until your head was fully submerged and pushed your feet until you were back to sitting.

Suddenly you heard your front door open then close as you heard the familer footsteps of your boyfriend coming closer. "Y/n?

You looked toward the door as it slowly opened to see Maverick in his flight suit. "Hi" "Love you okay." Maverick slowly approached you as his eyes racked up and down your body.

Kneeling besides you he planted a kiss on your wet forehead. "Never been better Mav, never been better." "Viper said your stomach hurts, is it true?" "Eh. It's off and on Maverick just- ow." You felt a strong cramp ripple threw your body as you winced at the sudden pain. "Hey, you okay?" He placed his hand on your shoulder "Yeah, just period cramps."

You looked up at him as his eyes softened. "Scoot forward love" "What?" "I said scoot forward love. I'm gonna come in with you." Maverick said as he started undressing himself as you slowly scooted forward, all while watching him.

Once he was undressed he stepped in behind you before sitting down and gently grabbing your waist pulling you to him.

"Where's the pain?" You moved his hand to where your ovaries lay and placed it there over your own hand. "Right here?" "God yes." You groaned as you leaned into his chest as he started messaging the area.

He started to plant kisses on your shoulder as you became putty in his embrace. "Thank you." "For what?" "Taking care of me." "Your welcome love." You turned your head as Maverick leaned down and kissed you.

One of his hands traveled up your side and to your breast as he gave it a squeeze. "Maverick?" You warned. "What, I just love touching them." "They hurt." "Oh sorry." Non of this business." "Ok." He pouted as he started hugging your middle.

"How was class today?" "You know same old same old. Ice being a complete douche bag, and well Goose being Goose." You chuckled as you snuggled up closer to him, making the now cold water tickle you.

"I'm cold." "Okay, let's get you out then." You slowly stood up and climbed over the tub and grabbed a fluffy towel. Soon Maverick did the same thing.

Once dried off you grabbed a new tampon and inserted in before putting back your clothes on. As Maverick rummaged through his pile of clothes until he found his white shirt and black boxers. You walked into your bedroom and headed towards the bed. Instantly you removed the covers and crawled into bed as Maverick followed right behind you.

You laid on your side so you could face Maverick. "Whatcha staring at love?" "Just thinking." "Care to explain?" "I dunno, Mav this has been racking n my mind for awhile." "I'm listening." "I think I wanna quit the navy."

The air around you two suddenly became heavy with emotion. "Why?" "Cause,I don't know why but I just want a normal civilian life. I already have a job lined up." "Oh." "I'm gonna just be strictly a air traffic control officer." "Really." "Yeah, I know your probably upset." "Love, I think you'd like that job a little better. When do you start?" "After top gun."

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Consequences

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: While hiding your relationship is an essential requirement of maintaining it, Maverick struggles to hide his feelings when another man becomes involved.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, and where would we be without the angst, people??

WC: 3000+

This is Part 3 in the There Are Rules universe.

You’re packing up when Maverick calls your name from the front of the room. You look up at him warily as the officers around you start rising from their seats.

Maverick clears his throat, his eyes locked on yours and, even as the rest of the room is bustling after a long day of flying and debriefs, you’re suddenly completely still. Everything always slows down when his gaze settles on you.

“Can you hang back a minute?” he asks.

You nod, sliding out of your seat. You head to the front against the flow of traffic while Maverick walks around his desk to meet you. He stands a good five feet away, riffling through some papers in his hand, until the last of the officers leaves the room.

Maverick glances up at you once everyone else has gone, gingerly setting the stack of papers down on his desk. “Lieutenant,” he says quietly. “That was some flying today.”

You blink at him, a small smile spreading on your face. Surely, he didn’t call you up here to talk about aviation.

Maverick watches you levelly, not a hint of humor in his face. “You broke the hard deck.”

“For a second,” you say, rolling your eyes. “To avoid a collision –”

“Breaking the hard deck is a collision with the ground,” Maverick interjects.

You sigh. “You would’ve done the same.”

Maverick shakes his head. “You can’t keep using that excuse.”

You stare at him moodily. “You’re not denying it.”

Maverick furrows his eyebrows. “We train like we fight, Lieutenant. So that we can fight like we train. You keep breaking the hard deck during exercise, you’ll end up crashing during combat.”

You seethe under the guise of a polite nod. “Yes, sir,” you reply.

Maverick narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side as though he isn’t convinced that you’re done arguing. “I don’t care if you’ve got bogeys on your tail chasing into the cliffside – you might as well have gone straight through the rock.”

You glare at him, holding back every single retort that threatens to escape your tightly sealed lips. “Yes, sir,” you manage to utter, gritting your teeth the moment the words leave your mouth.

Maverick watches you patiently, waiting for you to dispute his logic. When you don’t, he takes a step forward. “Lieutenant,” he says calmly, his eyes sweeping over your face.

“Captain,” you reply.

He moves just a touch closer, letting his fingers skim the back of your hand. “I need you to be more careful,” he says in a near-whisper.

His proximity dizzies you until you can hardly decipher his words. “Mm-hm,” you respond vaguely.

His thumb draws a couple of circles into your palm, but he never quite takes your hand. “You’re dismissed, Lieutenant,” he says in a low voice.

You close your eyes, letting out a wavering sigh when his breath warms the apple of your cheek. “Aye aye, sir,” you say quietly.

Maverick releases a partially stifled groan, pressing his head against yours for a moment before he steps away. “That shouldn’t turn me on,” he says, backing away further as he holds his arm out, pointing at you.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?” you ask, a little bewildered because you’re still stranded in a moment that’s already passed.

“You calling me that,” he says, shutting his eyes and shaking his head as though he’s attempting to clear it of your sorcery.

“Sir?” you ask.

He laughs tensely. “Stop.”

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. “Captain?” you say innocently, exploiting his weakness now that you’ve caught on. You take a step forward.

He sighs, bringing a hand to his face. “This is bad,” he warns as you approach, although there’s an amused grin on his face.

You bite your lip, smirking. “Do you like it when I’m bad, Captain?”

Maverick’s mouth drops open for a second as he watches you in awe. “Lieutenant,” he says hoarsely, placing his hands on your arms before you can come any closer. “If you’re trying to test my self-restraint, you’re winning.”

“Am I?” you ask softly, trying to push yourself against his hold.

Maverick moves his head to one side, setting his jaw as though he’s bracing himself for a difficult task. “I’m begging you,” he whispers, turning back to look at you as his breathing becomes more pronounced. “Don’t come any closer.”

“You started it,” you say.

He nods. “I won’t make that mistake again,” he says, finally letting go of you and shaking out his hands wearily. “We can’t do this here. If anybody finds out –”

“I know, I know,” you say. “There will be consequences.

…

Later that evening, you meet your squadron at the Hard Deck. You nod at Maverick and Cyclone, who are seated at the bar, but walk past them to join your friends. You spend the night going over the day’s hops with Phoenix, kicking Rooster’s ass at pool, and exchanging furtive glances with your instructor who has yet to run out of creative reasons to look over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of your group near the back of the bar.

It has been two weeks since the locker room fiasco but, in all this time, you and Maverick have barely had a moment alone. Between the grueling training and keeping up appearances, there has hardly been time for romance, so when you see Maverick getting out of his seat and pulling his leather jacket over the fitted, white t-shirt he’s wearing, you can’t help the disappointment you feel.

You down your martini moodily and rise slowly, leaning on the table.

“You doing okay?” Phoenix asks.

You nod, feeling the significant weight of your head as you perform said action. The third martini must have been a double. Still, you straighten your back and release the edge of the table. “Never better,” you respond, taking care not to lose your balance as you spin on the spot. You let out a sigh upon seeing Maverick’s back as he nears the door and start unhurriedly for the bar.

But before you reach it, a man in service khakis steps into your path. Not only is he wearing an exuberant grin, he’s also still sporting his aviators despite the late hour and lack of sunlight indoors. “Hey there, gorgeous,” he says in a jubilant voice.

Cyclone looks up from where he’s seated at the bar and raises his eyebrows in your direction before pointedly turning away. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Maverick has come to a halt near the exit.

“What’s your poison?” the man asks, putting a hand on your arm and gesturing to the bar.

You watch him quietly for a moment, trying to decide whether you’re devious enough to take advantage of the situation. After all, the moment the man lays his hand on you, Maverick turns to watch you from where he still stands by the door, and you can’t say that the pissed off expression he’s wearing isn’t wildly attractive. But, ultimately, you look up at the man who’s now putting his arm around your shoulder, and say “I’m good, thanks,” and slip out from under his embrace.

“Come on,” the man insists, taking a hold of your wrist as you start to walk away. “One drink, sweetheart.”

In your periphery, you see Maverick start to make his way back toward the bar. “No, thank you,” you reiterate, pulling your hand out of his grasp.

But when you turn away, the man steps into your path. “Don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he says, putting his hands on your waist.

Before you can respond, you hear Maverick’s voice, much closer than you would expect him to be. “I believe the lady said no.”

You glance over to see the threatening look on his face despite the composure in his voice.

“Hey gramps, how ’bout you take a hike?” The man chuckles.

You notice Cyclone turning back to face the three of you, his eyebrows hovering even higher than the last time you saw them. He meets your gaze with a cringe just as Maverick narrows his eyes. “Step away,” he says in a low voice. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

The man leers at Maverick. “Or what?” he asks, tugging you forward.

It takes but a moment for Maverick to wedge himself between the two of you and grab the man by the collar of his uniform, nearly lifting him off the ground. “I suggest you get out of here right the fuck now,” Maverick growls, displacing the man several feet. He drives his back into the bar before finally letting go of his shirt.

“Woah! Woah!” the man yells, clearly not prepared to take a beating for what he thought might be a decent hookup. He holds his hands up, cowering. “I’m leaving, pop.”

Maverick glares at the man as he stalks off in a hurry. You glance nervously between Maverick’s curled up fists and the relaxed set of Cyclone’s shoulders. He’s watching Maverick in amusement. “Well, that was entertaining,” he comments while Maverick continues to seethe.

You wince as Maverick’s jaw hardens in response, not entirely optimistic that Cyclone won’t end up in his path of destruction. You bite your lip as Maverick finally releases a controlled breath and looks in your direction. His eyes sweep fleetingly over your face, although he holds your gaze for a deliberate moment before turning to Cyclone. “I can’t stand that kind of arrogance,” Maverick mutters, reaching for a bar stool next to his superior.

Cyclone smirks at him pointedly. “That’s ironic.”

Maverick gives Cyclone a flat look but doesn’t respond.

Cyclone takes advantage of the break in conversation to glance in your direction. “You alright, Lieutenant?”

You gravitate warily toward the bar. “I could use a drink,” you respond honestly.

Cyclone calls over the bartender while Maverick looks over his shoulder to steal a glance in your direction. He’s wearing an unreadable expression and this about doubles your level of anxiety. Cyclone distributes six shots of Tequila between the three of you and, lifting his shot glass, says, “I thought you were leaving, Maverick.”

Maverick eyes Cyclone impassively. “Is that your toast, sir?” he asks.

Cyclone chuckles. “Why not?” Then he downs his shot.

You follow suit, squeezing your eyes shut as the bitterness of the liquor settles in your mouth. You let out a quick breath before sticking a wedge of lime between your teeth and cringing as you bite down. When you notice both Cyclone and Maverick watching you in amusement, you give them a forced smile. “Oh my god,” you mutter around the lime wedge still in your mouth. “So good.”

The men laugh and you take a breath of relief, feeling the tension dissipate. Maverick raises his second shot glass and, while Cyclone reaches over the bar for the saltshaker, winks at you with a discreet smile. This tiny gesture is enough to send a ripple of electricity through your body.

Cyclone lands back on his barstool with a loud sigh and offers Maverick the salt. Maverick holds up a hand to indicate that he isn’t interested so Cyclone just shrugs and starts sprinkling his hand.

You glance at Maverick just as his eyes linger on yours once again and the desire to touch him becomes disastrously overwhelming. You feel your heart begin to race when you recognize the longing on his face before he squares his jaw and looks into his shot glass. He brings it to his lips, but Cyclone stops him with an outraged “Maverick!” He looks at Cyclone in surprise while the latter shakes his head in disapproval. “It’s your turn to give a toast.”

Maverick lets out a weak chuckle, reverting his gaze to the liquid in his glass. “To the mission, of course,” he says. He takes his shot quickly and then looks at you with a mild squint, as though he’s studying your reaction.

“Of course,” Cyclone agrees and, as he tips his shot glass back, you feel the back of Maverick’s hand brush lightly against your knee.

That’s when the troupe of enthusiastic aviators arrives at the bar. “Excuse the interruption,” Hangman says. “But this looks like a party I want to crash.”

Maverick raises his eyebrows at him. “Typically, I advise my pilots against crashing,” he says.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes at Maverick’s joke while the rest of your squadron gathers around.

Maverick rises, allowing the newcomers access to the counter, and gives you a subtle wink as he moves through the swam of aviators. “See you kids tomorrow,” he says with a smirk.

“Captain!” you exclaim, leaping from your seat and squeezing through the bodies crowding the counter.

Maverick glances back at you warily. “Lieutenant?”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering how appropriate your ensuing request might sound. “Mind giving me a ride back to base?”

Maverick blinks at you mutely before his eyes briefly slide over to Cyclone and then back to you again. “Sure,” he says pleasantly.

You give him a tight smile before turning to bid your friends a good night. Cyclone gives you a quick nod and returns his attention to the beer someone’s just handed him. Apprehensively, you make your way toward Maverick, who’s about halfway to the door. Maverick turns on his heel as soon as you reach him and marches briskly toward the exit. “Keep up, Lieutenant,” he mutters under his breath as you pick up your pace.

“Are you mad?” you ask quietly as he holds the door open for you.

Maverick meets your gaze. “No,” he says with a shift of the jaw as he fights to keep a straight face. “Impatient.”

You raise your eyebrows, stepping over the threshold with a small laugh. Maverick walks out after you and gestures to the parking lot at the side of the building.

Once the two of you are past the large windows of the establishment, you feel Maverick’s fingers weave through your own. The afternoon sun has sunk below the horizon and the long shadows of palm trees start to melt into the soft darkness of dusk. It's thanks to this cover of nightfall that Maverick pulls you aside behind the Hard Deck and, after a quick glance over his shoulder, finally looks you in the eye. “Good evening, Lieutenant,” he says and, even in your pocket of darkness, hidden between the spotlights of two unsuspecting streetlamps, you see the twitch of his lips as his mouth curls upward.

You smile back at him. “Good evening, Captain,” you respond, not meaning to sound quite as sweet as you do, only you’re so enamored by his eyes, it’s damn near impossible to keep from melting.

Maverick brings your hand up and presses it to his mouth, closing his eyes as he lets out a breath. He shakes his head, meeting your gaze with a more serious expression. “Sorry I intervened,” he says.

You blink at him in surprise. “I’m not,” you respond. “I mean, I know you know I can handle myself.”

Maverick chuckles. “I assure you, I don’t doubt your competence.”

You lower your gaze to watch his hand tighten around yours. “It was nice, having you stand up for me.”

Maverick reaches up with his other hand to lift your chin. “I almost decked him.”

You laugh. “I noticed.”

“I think I reacted before I realized that I probably shouldn’t have.”

“Hmm.” You pause, searching his face. “I know the feeling,” you say finally, perhaps a tad sarcastically.

He watches you quietly for a moment, knowing exactly what you’re getting at. “Your barrel roll,” he concedes.

“I was inverted before I even realized it.”

Maverick nods. “You’ve got great instincts.”

You gaze at him thoughtfully. “My point is, I don’t think I would have done the same maneuver at a lower altitude. Another reflex would have kicked in.”

“Look, I’m not going to stand here and deny that you’re a talented pilot. But I’m also not going to commend you for a reckless stunt that put your life in jeopardy and nearly caused your pursuing aircraft to lose control,” Maverick states firmly.

You pout your lips teasingly. “Not even a little?”

Maverick grins reluctantly. He brings his head down to rest over yours. He’s silent for a moment, breathing calmly, in unison with you. “That was some flying today, Lieutenant,” he mutters finally, echoing his morning lecture in an infinitely more agreeable tone. Affectionate. Proud. “Couldn’t have done it better myself,” he half-whispers. His hand moves to cradle your cheek while he places a tender, burning kiss on the corner of your mouth. Your lips part as you let a soft, whimpering sigh escape in the midst of your mounting desire. His lips linger longingly on your cheek before he shifts his weight to move closer and kiss you again. He’s not even kissing your mouth and the passion of the moment is already driving you wild.

Then, just as you’re about to insist on a proper French kiss, a booming voice impedes your plans. “Maverick!”

Maverick leaps away from you like he’s been stung, as though this action might negate what Cyclone has undoubtedly already witnessed. “Sir,” he starts, his tone confident despite the alarm on his face. “Let me explain” –

Cyclone silences him by holding up a hand. He glances mutely between you and Maverick. “I don’t have to tell you what kind of position this puts me in, Captain.”

“I understand that, sir,” Maverick responds with a stiff nod.

Cyclone stands quietly for what seems like a full minute before speaking again. “This ends now,” Cyclone declares levelly, the hushed quality of his voice adding a threatening tone to the statement.

“There’s nothing to end,” Maverick assures him. “This was an error in judgement, and it will not happen again.”

Cyclone juts out his chin in a grimace and shoots a stern glance in your direction. “This ends now,” he repeats, ensuring to enunciate every syllable to emphasize his point.

You don’t say anything, but Cyclone doesn’t wait for you to respond. He heads out into the parking lot, leaving the two of you behind.

Maverick drags a hand over his face. “Of all the fucking people” –

But you don’t let him finish. “Nothing to end?” you say hurtfully. He looks up at you wearily. “An error in judgement?”

Maverick watches you resignedly. “What would you call it?”

The despair on his face frightens you; makes you consider the possibility that his response to Cyclone might have been more deliberate than simply a spontaneous evasive maneuver.

Maverick sighs. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. You meet his gaze; his eyes brim with tears but his jaw is set. “I take full responsibility.”

As if you want an apology. As if you need to place blame. You take a step toward him, but he retreats.

He lets out a labored breath and blinks back a flood of tears. Then, he says in a strained whisper, “This ends now.”

You might’ve accidentally broken the hard deck but, just like that, Maverick intentionally breaks your heart.

Read Part 4

Tag List:

Not sure when Mav's tag list got so long! As always, let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my works <3 The rest of the list is in the comments.

@wandering-wah

@callsign-sunshine

@ghost-heart34

@birdy-bat-writes

@matya4

@wkndwlff

@nyx2021

@bellamy1998

@oliviah-25

@alexxavicry

@army24--7

@thefandomimagines

@dracosluvbot

@smit41

@scenesofobx

@Criminalmindsandmarvel

@lunamoonbby

@malums-trash-can

@malindacath

@karleetakeenan

@callsign-echo

@toothemoonanddback

@broketraveler87

@atarmychick007

@shanimallina87

@creativitybeware

@xoxabs88xox

@Yoyop7

@hallecarey1

@nik2blog

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@kpopgirlbtssvt

@lilianashomaresparza

@latetedslesetoiles

@Elenavampire21

@starberryhorse

@ginger-gabsq

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@risingtripletaurus

@callsignmaverick5

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@hermaeusmorax

@littlebadariell

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

[simpforrooster]

the best pilot in the navy.

pete “maverick” mitchell x f!simpson reader

summary: your admiral father allows you to work control room during the uranium mission, despite your relationship with maverick. the pilot who’s a pain in his ass.

t/w: some angst, language. fluff at the end. not sure if the specifics are navy accurate, but let me have this xD

“can you handle this, captain?” you father asked you in his office.

“yes, sir,” you replied.

he studied your face. “you know there are risks-“

you cut him off. “yes, sir. i know that. i know that every time he flies in that plane he may not come back.”

the admiral mask fell from his face. working with your father, admiral simpson has its ups and downs. throw in you dating one of his subordinates. then have that subordinate bc roughly the same age as your dad.

yeah.

“y/n. now answer the question as my daughter.”

your mask slipped as well. “i’ll be fine, dad. promise. mav is a hell of a pilot.”

“dagger one is hit. i repeat, dagger one is hit!”

the words you’ve been praying to avoid echo in your ears. your boyfriend is flying dagger one.

you struggle not to look over your shoulder at your father, not wanting to give him any reason to regret allowing you to work the control room for this mission.

“asking permission to launch search and rescue,” hangman comes over the coms.

“negative,” your father says.

that does it. you spin around in your chair, ignoring hangman who is waiting on you to relay the admiral’s answer.

“sir?” he calls again.

your eyes hold your father’s, matching in color and glare. “dad,” you squeak out.

“he’s waiting on the answer, captain.” his admiral mask is firm, unwavering.

“we can’t leave him out there,” you press. hondo meets your eyes, the same sadness holding there.

“there is nothing we can do for maverick. not in a damn f-18.” the words spear through your heart.

you’re not an idiot. you know he’s right. that's been the whole point of the extensive training, the enemies superoir aircraft.

“negative, spare,” you relay.

your heart grows heavier in your chest as the seconds go by. your concentration ebbs and flows from the monitor. the dots of the other daggers get closer to the boat.

natasha and bob.

coyote and fanboy.

rooster.

not maverick.

not maverick.

the sounds of the control room go silent, replaced by a high pitched whine. water drips onto your keyboard. is the roof leaking?

it takes a second to realize those are your tears.

you launch your headphones toward the monitor and slide back from the desk. you can't take it.

you can't take it.

"captain simpson!" your fathers calls. his booming voice is enough to get you to stop for a millisecond. "do not walk out that door."

ignoring him, you run out into the hallway, hondo on your tail.

his burly arms wrap around you from behind. the action makes the tears fall from your eyes without abandon.

"i know," he murmurs above your ear. "i know."

mav tried to tell you goodbye before he left and you wouldn't let him.

"hondo! simpson! get back in here. rooster turned around and was shot down!" warlock orders.

damn it, rooster.

slipping back into the control room, you expertly avoid your father’s heavy gaze. it’s like the two of you have time-traveled back to your high school days, and he got a call from the school about your excessive talking.

the two of you being cut from the same cloth makes working together tooonns of fun.

swiping away stray tears, you get to work.

“sir, rooster’s radio just turned back on. but he’s supersonic,” the controller next to you says. you peer over at his monitor. sure enough, the rooster dot is moving at a steady pace.

your gaze finds the admiral’s. “maverick,” he says.

your heart swells at the thought of maverick still being alive.

“they’ve got bandits on them,” you say.

“send out spare one,” your father tells you.

com-ing over to hangman, he’s up in the air in no time.

~

waiting for mav and rooster to make it back to the boat felt like eons. as they approached, everyone left the control room to meet them on deck.

you follow warlock and your dad up to the tower.

as your stare out over the water, trying to spot the place your boyfriend’s in, your dad’s voice fills the air.

“i hope you understand my call,” he says.

holding your gaze over the water, you want to pick a fight. you want to scream and argue. you want him to feel the heartbreak you felt in that moment.

the moment he didn’t allow hangman to go over mav.

but you understood.

you truly did. of course losing one pilot was better than two. the thought makes you want to throw up.

“i do. i told you i could handle the mission,” you reply, your back still turned.

his hand comes up to your shoulder, lightly squeezing, the admiral mask slipping.

you turn, knowing you’ll get your dad and not your admiral. once your eyes meet, the tears fall from your eyes.

“i was so scared,” you say into his chest. cyclone pulls you tight against him, a dad holding his girl tight.

your sobs subside when warlock points towards the distance. “thank God, there they are.”

cyclone slips back into admiral mode right as maverick buzzes the tower. the three of you are jostled at the sound and speed of it.

your father cocks an eyebrow at you. seriously, this is who you want to be with?

all you can do is offer him a grin before running from the tower.

on deck, maverick and rooster accept hugs and slaps on the back. maverick gives everyone a polite acknowledgment, his head craning for someone.

for you.

once he sees you, relief floods his face. “oh, baby,” he says, that relief palpable in his voice. he grabs you, pulling you into him, one hand in your hair, the other around your waist.

again, you don’t bother hiding the tears. he pulls back, his thumbs running across your cheeks. “i’m here. i’m here. i’m okay.”

your hands run over his body, checking for injuries. any scratches to his perfect self.

“talk to me, simpson,” he says, his voice wary.

it’s like you’ve forgotten how to speak with the flood of emotions. instead, you pull him down to you, enveloping his mouth with a kiss.

a kiss you were afraid you’d never be able to give him.

maverick rests his forehead against yours, “i was so worried about you.”

“me?” finally finding your voice. “i was worried about you.”

“haven’t i told you not to worry about me? i’m the best pilot in the navy,” he smirks. you playfully shove him back, letting hondo greet his friend.

the two men wrap each other in a tight embrace. maverick pulls back first, glancing up to the tower. warlock pumps his fist and your father nods his reluctant approval.

[worldofheroes]

Building Tension

pete “maverick” mitchell x fem!bradshaw!reader

summary: after a training accident, you yell at maverick for his reckless behavior that turns into something more.

warnings: 18+, enemies to lovers, language, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex

wc: 1.2k

a/n: based on a request by @cheeseballsaregood ! Hope you like it ❤️

“Hey y/n/n, Mav’s coming over, wanted to give you a heads up,” your brother, Nick, says to you.

You close the fridge and sigh heavily.

“I know you don’t like him, but he’s my buddy, my partner, so he’s gonna be around a lot,” Goose continues.

“I just hate how reckless he is. He has my big brother in the backseat and he doesn’t care.”

“He does care!”

“Sure doesn’t seem like it,” you mutter.

“Goose?” Maverick calls out from the front door.

“In here, Mav!” Goose calls out.

“Nick,” you complain.

“Hey y/n,” Maverick smiles at you.

“Get lost,” you quip at him, walking out of the kitchen.

You bump into Maverick’s shoulder as you leave.

A day later, you’re notified of a training accident. Luckily no one was seriously hurt, but you are fuming.

“What the hell, Maverick?!” you yell as you storm into the hospital room that Maverick and Goose are sharing.

“Y/n, it’s fine,” Goose says.

“It’s not fine! You could’ve gotten killed, Nick!”

“I had it under control,” Maverick says.

You turn and glare at him. “Don’t even start with me, Pete.”

Maverick sets his jaw. “I won’t, then.”

He turns and storms out of the room.

“What the hell was that?” Goose asks.

“I’m not done with him,” you grumble, following Maverick out.

“Y/n!” Goose calls after you, but you ignore him.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Maverick?!” you exclaim.

“You know I’m a damn good pilot! I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

“Oh, fuck you! That’s my brother up there with you, Mav! You have another fucking human up there with you! Just because you don’t have a family doesn’t mean everyone else doesn’t either!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“You fucking know.”

“Why do you care so much about how I fly? You never did before!”

“Because I love you, Maverick, and I don’t want to see you die!”

Pause.

“What did you just say?” Maverick asks, taking a step towards you.

“Shit,” you mutter.

“Y/n,” Maverick says, quieter.

“I… I love you,” you say softly, looking away.

“Look at me,” he says softly, caressing your face with a warm hand.

You find the courage to look him in the eyes.

Maverick pauses for just a moment before he leans in and kisses you.

You take a step closer to Maverick, and his other arm wraps around you and pulls you flush to his chest.

Your own arms make their way up and around Maverick’s neck.

“Come with me, back to my place,” Maverick says.

You nod.

“I’ll give you a ride,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

He hops on his bike and helps you settle in, wrapping your arms around his body.

“Hang on,” he grins.

He takes off down the street to his place.

Once you make it to his house, Maverick helps you off the bike and into the house.

Maverick closes the door, and when he turns around, you pin him against the door.

“Woah, easy,” he smiles.

“Fuck you,” you say, rolling your eyes.

You lean in and kiss him, desperately.

Your hands wander his body, and after Maverick’s initial shock of you pinning him against the door, he starts feeling you too.

You bite his lower lip, and Maverick moans.

As his mouth opens ever so slightly, your tongue moves in, taking a swipe at his tongue.

He responds happily, moving his tongue together with yours.

You break the kiss momentarily to remove your shirt, and Maverick follows your lead, removing his shirt as well.

You smile at him and pull him towards you, leading him to the couch.

“Sit,” you say, gently pushing him down.

“Whatever you say,” he grins.

You place your legs on either side of Maverick, and lower yourself onto his lap.

“Baby,” he sighs, his hands wandering your torso.

You hum, content with how this is going.

You lean in, and start to kiss his jaw, then his neck, to his collarbone and down his chest and abdomen.

“Oh,” Maverick says breathlessly as you sink to your knees and start to undo his pants.

You don’t say anything, just glance up to meet his gaze as you pull his pants and boxers down, revealing his half-hard cock.

“Hm,” you hum, wrapping your hand around it.

Maverick stifles a moan.

“Oh, don’t hold back, baby,” you say, starting to stroke him.

Maverick nods, watching you intently.

You glance up to him again, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Maverick is now full sail, and you lean down and take him into your mouth.

Maverick groans loudly, throwing his head back against the couch.

You slowly bob your head, going lower and lower on his shaft with each movement.

“Oh, y/n,” he moans.

Hearing him moan your name like that sends everything to your center, pooling between your legs.

You start to pick up the pace, and Maverick’s hips involuntarily buck when you go lower on his shaft.

Incoherent mumblings come from Maverick, and you know he’s on the edge. You take his cock out of your mouth with a loud pop.

“Shit, y/n,” he says, reaching for you.

You just give him a smile as you pull your own pants and panties down, tossing them aside.

You briefly suck on your fingers before your hand goes down to your aching center. You can’t help the small moan that escapes you when your fingers start playing with your clit.

“Oh,” Maverick sighs. “I wanna fuck you.”

You smile, and move to straddle him once again.

You reach down between your legs to grab Maverick’s cock, lining it up to your core.

As you begin to sit on his cock, you throw your head back, moaning in pleasure as he fills you.

“Yes, fuck yes,” Maverick sighs, lightly thrusting up into you.

“You like that?” you ask, lightly scraping your nails across his shoulder.

He nods.

You continue your work bouncing on his cock, leaving Maverick a mumbling, moaning mess.

“Y/n, I’m gonna come,” he practically whines.

“Yeah? You gonna come in my tight pussy?” you whisper in his ear, giving it a nibble.

“S-shit, fuck yes,” Maverick stammers.

He thrusts into you a couple more times before he finds his release, throwing his head back against the couch.

“Mm,” you sigh, still rutting against him.

“Shit, y/n,” Maverick says shakily.

“It’s not fair if you only get to cum,” you breathe.

“You’re right.”

Maverick’s hand reaches down between the two of you, and his fingers rub on your clit.

You whimper at the sensation.

Maverick thrusts up against you as his fingers work at you.

“Shit, if you keep this up, I’m gonna come so fast,” you mutter.

Maverick gets a mischievous smile on his face and thrusts faster into you.

“Shit!”

You grip his shoulders as your legs tense, the pleasure rolling over your body.

“That’s it,” Maverick growls.

Maverick wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close as you come down from your high.

Your body goes slack against him.

He places gentle kisses on your body.

“Mav,” you pant, kissing his neck.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?” he asks you.

“You are too.”

You move off Maverick’s lap and sit beside him on the couch, nuzzling into his side.

“I just fucked my best friend’s sister,” Maverick says, not really to anyone.

“I just fucked my brother’s best friend,” you reply.

Maverick pulls a blanket over the both of you, and you spend the rest of the day cuddling on the couch.

[buckyegans]

Love your work so may I request Pete Mitchell jealously headcannons?

Yes! Thanks for the request, I really appreciate it!

warnings: jealousy, mav’s kind insecure and doubts himself

notes: gender neutral reader as usual

Maverick is definitely one to get jealous. He takes things to heart—even if he doesn’t mean to. I find him getting jealous out of a place of insecurity rather than possessiveness, but, that doesn’t mean he isn’t a little possessive.

If you’re at the O Club one night, Maverick will do everything in his ability to stay beside you—and he’s usually showing at least some obvious way that you are taken. Hand on yours, arm over your shoulder, you on his lap, whatever you prefer.

But, if you decide you need to use the restroom or get another drink, he won’t stop you. But, he will watch from afar—he notices the guy approach you, and he can’t help but feel a little hurt as you laugh at something they said.

Maverick knows better, he really does. But, he still frowns at the sight. He knows you aren’t flirting, and that you’re a polite person just talking to another patron of the bar. But, Maverick takes it to heart like he does with everything.

Some nights he won’t say anything. Others where he’s feeling a little confident he will stroll up to you and your new friend and display the fact you’re happily taken.

“Hey, baby. Get your drink?”

“Gettin’ cold without you.”

“Who’s your new friend, honey?” *cue Maverick’s dirty glare*

You’ve been through this a dozen times with him before. He knows you’re an attractive person and that other people are bound to come around—but he’s just worried that maybe you’ll find someone better.

You will always smile, grabbing for his hand and introducing him to the person you were less than interested in.

“Justin, this is my boyfriend, Pete Mitchell. He’s attending Top Gun here in Miramar,” you know it makes Maverick feel better to watch that bozo blink stupidly at the two of you before scurrying away.

I don’t think Mav is one to be angry jealous—maybe that’s just me and my loathing for that trope but I don’t see him like that. You’re not his possession, because you’re not an object. Sure, the comment you’re mine makes you hot and bothered in a certain regard but in times like this, Mav knows better.

“What was that about, Mav?”

“What was what about, baby?”

You stare him. He knows what you mean.

“Are you jealous?” you would ask.

Having been through this before, Mav looks down at his shoes and shrugs. You can’t help but smile.

You don’t mind to remind that you chose him—and that no matter what guy approaches you in the bar, you’re his partner no matter what.

You also love to remind Maverick just how good of a boyfriend he is. He smiles sheepishly and considers it. You always end moments like this peppering his face with kisses, watching his cheeks turn pink, trying to shoo you away.

Jealousy gets the best of most of us, even Maverick. But, it isn’t a black and white feeling, either. Especially with Maverick.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Romantics 🎸 | Pete Mitchell Imagine

Part of my 'Y/n & The Romantics' TGM AU verse

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar!reader (romantic), Bradley Bradshaw x reader (mother/son-type relationship), Dagger Squad (platonic)

content warnings: Fluff, slight profanity, flirtatious banter, light suggestive content, mentions of past drug use. pop culture references | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 5k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @fangirlvibez) 🩶

Premise: After two years since getting the band back together, Y/n and The Romantics have got the opportunity most artists dream of getting when they've achieved legendary status in their career: a documentary film. Recalling the days of discovery, early stardom and the love she found along the way, frontwoman & daughter of Rock n' Roll Y/n L/n-Mitchell writes a love letter to not only her fans, but the pilot who captured her heart...and the little girl with a voice of an angel who broke away from God to become a rockstar.

Note: I've said it and I'll say it again, writing dagger squad x famous!reader is in my top 3 pairings I've written for, and it makes me so happy that after two plus years of doing them, you guys love them and continue to request them--even when I've been slacking on getting through requests. This request was the spark I needed and once I started typing, it never stopped. Again (like every note in my works the past several months) I'm sorry for the wait and I hope this gives you everything you hoped for. 🩶

---------------------------------------

3….2….1…

“Are we rolling?” Y/n laughed, apologizing to the producers and crew in front of her when she realized they had already begun filming when she was off in la la land singing ‘How Will I Know,’ by Whitney Houston under her breath while an assistant made sure the mic was secured on her t-shirt.

“Yes, Ms. Y/n,” the lady in an all red pantsuit chuckled, adjusting her headset and motioning for the cameraman to not stop the camera. “But don’t worry we’ll edit it out.”

They were not going to edit it out. In fact it was going to be the opening sequence to Y/n’s personal bits. 

“I’m so embarrassed,” the rockstar hid her face with a hand, but then remembered she valued her life and would not ruin the masterpiece her makeup artist had created. “I’m sorry--I’m ready when you are, darling.” 

To celebrate the 45th anniversary of the release of their first song, Y/n & The Romantics were approached by HBO to film a documentary recounting their early days of their group, the height of their career, the twenty-year hiatus, and finally their reunion with a crew following them during the American leg of their 2024 world tour. It was an exciting opportunity. One the band--and especially their lifelong fans--were delighted. 

It’d been two years since their return to music. Together as a group that is. And not once had it lost its thrill. Releasing two albums, going on back-to-back World Tours, winning two Grammy’s and three Moonman. Performing at the Billboard Music Awards where they received the Icon Award. A song from their early albums featured on the Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 soundtrack. 

Things were looking great. Perfect.

Now Y/n sat in the comfort of her home, dogs taking claim to areas not occupied by the many crew members, recording her personal interviews for the documentary while Pete and Rooster worked in the garage to pass time until Y/n and Pete were to do their piece. 

The producer adjusted herself in the chair, clipboard in her lap, “So, Y/n, I’m going to ask some relatively basic questions, but just speak what your heart desires. Sounds good?”

She gives a thumbs up, “sounds great.”

“I guess we’ll start by having you introduce yourself,” a few chuckles rang out. Y/n letting out a giggle as the producer shrugged with a smile. “I know, I know. We know you but for this part we’ll be showing flashbacks of your early childhood.” 

“Okay, okay. No pressure.” Y/n got comfortable. Looking straight at the camera, Y/n gave a dazzling smile. “Hi, I’m Y/n L/n, songwriter and frontwoman of Y/n and The Romantics. I was born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia and I will not disclose my age,” she winked, chuckling with the crew. She recently celebrated her 60th birthday. “You can google that information.” 

“Can you tell us about what your childhood was like? For those who may not know, how did you and the others meet?”

Y/n inhaled deeply, the memories of growing up in the late 60s and early 70s surfacing. Replying in her mind like an old film. Beaming as she recalled, “we all lived on the same block--went to the same elementary school and junior high before we got signed. Maya and I were neighbors, Evan lived across the street. Danny and Ronnie were up the road, closest to a convenient store we’d go to on the weekends to grab a coke or smoke a cigarette. We rode the same bus, had the same teachers. If I wasn’t at Maya’s, we were down at Ronnie’s or one of the guys. Chilling in the garage listening to the Beatles and B.B. King or taking the city bus to our favorite record store.”

A distant look in her eyes appeared when she began talking about her family. Both sets of grandparents died before she reached 21. Luckily they were able to witness Y/n’s career take off but missed out on major milestones. A few cousins passed on over the years, as did many friends. Unfortunately, her father greeted the other side when she was 45. And while it’s been fifteen years since, not a day goes by where she didn’t think of him. As for her mother, she just turned 90 and was still kicking. 

“My parents were working class citizens, who worked their tail off to provide for us. My father actually worked at the same company with Evan’s dad. Then mine, Ronnie’s, and Maya’s mom were part of the same social circle.” Exhaling, Y/n tilted her head with a small smile, “I had a good childhood. One many kids would wish for---a loving family living in a nice house. Yeah there were times where my parents had to forgo a home cooked meal in favor of keeping the lights on one more night. Occasionally birthday presents were postponed until a month after our birth date. But, we were happy. We had each other, and that’s all that mattered.”

Taking a sip of water, Y/n cleared her throat while adjusting her position on the couch, the producer asking, “When did you first fall in love with music? You mentioned you guys would go to the record store and in earlier interviews how you guys' covered musicians on the streets of Atlanta--which evidently is how you were discovered. Did you always want to pursue the industry as a rock band or did it come as a surprise.”

“A little bit of both,” she answered honestly. Y/n thought back to years leading up to their discovery. Their small, humble setup with secondhand instruments they got from yard sales with saved up allowance money. Claiming a corner near the busy intersection of downtown Atlanta which was now known as Olympic Centennial Park following the 1996 Atlanta Olympic Games. Keeping their guitar cases open for when passer byers dropped coins or loose bills. 

Was it the safest idea? Not really. But it was 1978 and things were different. People left their cars unlocked. One could ask a stranger for a cigarette or a ride down the street without a second thought. 1978 was a memorable year as the year the Women’s Army Corps came to an end, the discovery of Pluto’s first moon, the first IVF baby conceived, and Harriet Tubman became the first African American woman on a postage stamp. Georgia opened the first ever Home Depot, and native Jimmy Carter was president of the United States. 

“Music was always there growing up,” she explained. “My parents collected records--my mother always had one playing when cleaning or cooking. Either that or the radio was on. For my seventh birthday I received a wooden harmonica and boy was it the best gift ever,” she hummed with a smile. 

She still had that harmonic. It was on a shelf in her bedroom, right next to the picture frame holding the tickets and signed program from the Elvis Presley concert she attended in 1976. 

“Any allowance or birthday money I got was put in my piggybank--which was then cashed in on a used 1940s Fender Esquire I got from a yard sale for all of $40. And before you say anything--,” she pointed a finger, “$40 was a lot back in the day even if it was used. Especially for a twelve-year-old.” 

Like the harmonica, the first guitar Y/n ever owned was on display on the wall where the rest of them were. Beside her legendary hot pink ‘Dirty Shirley’ Fender Stratocaster and Elvis’s 1960 Gibson J-200 famously used in his 1968 comeback special.

“Of course the dream was to be discovered, signed, make music and be able to say we got to live the dream. Even if it was for a short amount of time,” Y/n talked with her hands, “but it was a shock. Never did we expect it would’ve happened the way it did. I mean c’mon,” a playful left her lips, leaning forward to emphasize her words, “we were fourteen! High school was about to start for us and there was no way in hell my parents would accept me dropping out to go live life as a rockstar.” 

“Can you tell us about that day? How exactly did it play out?” 

Of all the questions the producer asked throughout the duration of filming the documentary with the Romantics, hearing them recount the day they were discovered was in their top 3. The crew saw how each member brightened, turning back into their 14-year-old self with the excitement painting their face. 

“It was my idea to cover ‘Cry Baby’,” Danny stated. “Y/n and Maya were set on ‘California Dreamin’,’ Evan wanted to fit in, ‘Superstition,’, and Ronnie didn’t give a shit as long as we made the most out of the day. But it was yours truly who pushed for Y/n to cover Janis. You’re welcome.” 

Ronnie would go on to say, “Danny and Evan did what they always did when a pretty girl stopped to listen; fought for her attention. Maya kept telling them to shut up and focus because it was the one day of the week during the school year where we got to go into the city to play. My keyboard had probably another month before I needed to replace it. Transporting it back and forth every week kept scratching it up.”

“I don’t want to say it was superstition,” Evan winked, a nice call back to the song he originally wanted them to cover in their set list, “But when I woke up that morning, I felt something--like it wasn’t going to be a normal set we’d had. There was a shift in the air the moment I put the guitar on and Y/n started belting ‘Fortunate Son.’ Maybe it was just me…I don’t know. But to this day, I believe the stars happened to align at the right moment for us.”

Maya beamed with each word, “Halfway through our set, a butterfly landed on my bass, and it was only ten minutes later that Mr. Mayhew found us. To me it was a sign--and why my bass always has butterflies on it. Afterwards we begged my brother to take us to Burger Chef to celebrate. Which ugh--!” She made a sound of longing, “Doesn’t even exist anymore! God the days where I could get a burger, fries and a shake for less than a dollar.”

“It was like any other weekend,” scratching her jaw, Y/n remembered every detail of the moment she and the band were approached by the music producer. “It was Saturday, middle of May and already scorching hot by mid-afternoon. We were a week away from the last day of junior high. Maya’s older brother would take us to our usual spot on his way to work and pick us up at the end of his shift.” Y/n bit back a smile, thinking about the big juvenile crush she had on him. Probably because he had a car and job, which back then was an attractive thing for any guy. It never went anywhere of course, and the two stayed friends--attending each other's wedding years later. 

“Every week we’d plan a set list of songs, both covers and ones I wrote. If we ran out of songs before Maya’s brother got off, we’d either call one of our parents to pick us up or continue playing whatever song we felt like. I was intimidated, to say the least, when it came time to cover ‘Cry Baby.’ So I mentally went, ‘fuck it, just do it,’ and poured my entire soul into singing. When I finished the adrenaline kept pumping, and I barely registered the suited man walking up with a business card and telling me to, ‘have your parents call this number. You kids have talent that only comes once in a lifetime. I wanna help you share it with the world.’”

For the next hour the producer relayed the questions and Y/n recalled the years between 1979 and 1989. Their first decade as a band was filled with success and hardships. The launch of their debut single and album. Appearing on Johnny Carson and SNL, being the third music video to ever play on MTV and winning their first Grammy. We Are the World with Michael Jackson, collaborating with Duran Duran, Eurythmics, and Diana Ross. The international tours, the rumors of Danny and Y/n’s addiction--which were false, tense moments where someone nearly quit. The lawsuit against a producer who was cheating them out of money.  

It was tough. But they pulled through. 

“1989 was a memorable year,” the producer began, a knowing smile on her lips. “Not only for the band….but for you, Y/n. 1989 was the year you met Pete Mitchell.”

To say the heat in her veins rivaled that of a volcano on the verge of exploding, was an understatement. The confident, playful, rockstar reduced to that of a shy schoolgirl falling in love for the first time. 

“Yessss,” she bit her lip, glancing away from the camera to hide the grin, but it was to no avail. It stayed on as she returned her attention forward, “That’s right.” 

“We’re gonna bring Pete in soon, but like your bandmates we want to have you talk about your relationship before sitting you both down for the next portion of this interview.” 

“Of course. What would you like to know?”

“Well, to begin, can you tell us how you and Pete met? It was after you performed at the Staples Center, correct?”

“Yup. August 15, 1989, at what was once called Club Electric Idol, known today as Melvin’s Planet Enterprise in Los Angeles. We finished our gig at the Staples Center and decided to hit up a club to end the night. Electric Idol was not far from our hotel.” The blue strobe lights flashed in her mind, followed by the image of a young Pete, Ice, and Slider walking up. His hair perfectly styled, bomber jacket and aviators on. Y/n chuckled, “I don’t know how long we’d been there, but next thing I know this guy is tapping my shoulder to ask if he could take a moment of my time. At first I expected another drunken pick-up line, but Pete shocked my core when he and his friends started belting, ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling,’ in the middle of the bar. Maya looked at him like he had two heads,” the giggles were now loose. Y/n unable to contain them. 

“I think Evan joined in,” a cough escaped, the woman shaking her head, “Pete was unlike any man I’d ever met. And considering I married the guy,” flashing her left hand, the diamond ring sparkled. “It’s safe to say he successfully wooed me with his beautiful rendition.”

The producer laughed with the rest of the crew, “Shall we bring him in then?”

“Ready when you are, baby.” 

Signaling the assistant, the young man raced out before returning a short moment later with Pete in tow. The pilot shyly waved to the guest, but instantly lit up when his eyes landed on Y/n. Nerves disappear with the relaxation of his features.

“Hey, hot shot.” 

“Hey there, songbird.” He took his place beside her on the couch, leaning back when the PA attached the mic to his shirt. “How’s it been going?”

“Perfect,” she replied with a smile, moving closer which then prompted their dog Ice to join them on the couch. Goose changed his napping spot to in front of Pete’s feet. Bella stayed on her bed. “Will Bradley manage the car on his own, or is he taking a break?” 

Pete reached down to give Goose a pat on the head, brushing his hand down his back to get rid of the shedding hair, “He’s heading to go shoot hoops with Jake and Payback. Said he’ll be back for dinner.”

Shuffling through her papers, the producer spoke into her headset before facing the couple. “Okay for this segment we’re gonna ease our way into the topic of relationships and maintaining them in this industry. Say whatever you’re comfortable with--we’ll edit out anything you might want cut in the final production.” 

Pete lifted a thumb, “Cool.” 

“Pete, before you came in Y/n was telling us about the night you met,” Red coating his cheeks in a flash, the pilot making a sound of embarrassment. 

“Oh God.”

Y/n giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Oh stop it, you were the star of the night, Pete Mitchell.”

“Can you explain what prompted you to approach Y/n? You were with your friends, having just attended their show hours prior, on vacation. What outcome were you hoping to come out of it?”

“To be honest with you I wasn’t exactly thinking of the outcome,” Pete, still red as a tomato, stared into the camera with a pleading look as if begging the eventual audience to believe him. “My buddies and I had this thing where when we saw a pretty lady we’d say, ‘She’s lost that lovin’ feeling,’ which was code for, ‘Please help me impress her.’ I’d only done it a few times before Y/n,” Briefly glancing at her, Pete chuckled as he recalled the words he told her, repeating them to the camera, “The first time crashed and burned. The second one got me a date, and the third….third time's a charm.” 

The next few minutes the couple went back in time. Remembering it all like it was yesterday. Afterwards Pete spoke of their first date, how he asked Y/n to be his girlfriend and the reality of going public with their relationship.

“I knew what I was signing up for when I fell in love with Y/n,” with his hand placed on top of her knee, Pete started to caress the area. The leather of her pants smooth against his thumb. “We had high demand jobs. Sometimes I couldn’t get in touch with her per my missions' orders. Her schedule was constant. But when you love someone, you make the time. You show up when it matters. I made sure to be at every major performance. Called every week--I once drove around Reno for hours trying to find a working payphone so I could wish her luck before she took to the stage. Sent flowers to her dressing room--which in the beginning was damn hard because the security thought I was a crazed fan.” 

Y/n continued, but not before laughing at her husband. “Whenever we were on break from recording or tour, I’d go to whatever base Pete was stationed at. He’d take me to the hangar and show me all there was to Naval aviation. I would say more of what we’d do, but I don’t want him getting in anymore now that he’s retired,” a sly wink was sent to the camera, both adults giggling as Mav brought a finger to his mouth, ‘shhhh.’

“Now, Y/n, during the final show of the band’s reunion tour you revealed that the rumored break up between you two before you got married never happened. How did you manage to keep such a big secret like that all these years?”

“A great publicist, not going out as much when we had time off and learning the art of deception.” Of course that last one was a little lie. In reality, they were lucky it all worked out the way it did. That people, specifically reporters and paparazzi, started to leave Pete alone. Toning down their stalking of the poor guy. Plus the band’s and Y/n’s personal publicist, with the consent of everyone involved, planted seeds of her romantically linking to other high-profile individuals. Like Paul Rudd during his early years of fame, and Ethan Hawk.

“Things at my job were becoming unstable with the amount of attention I got being Y/n’s partner,” Pete explained. “My superiors were concerned with sending me out after an incident where a fan tried following me to the hangar. Now at the time, this was before September 11th, you could drive onto military installations, but there were still certain areas restricted to only personnel. This fan attempted to breach the restricted area, then there were times the paparazzi photographed me in places that were confidential.”

“So we staged a break-up,” Y/n threw her hands up, letting out an irritated sigh. 25 years later and it still bothered her how invasive people could be. Especially with Pete, her man. Compromising his job, and potentially his life.

She’d raise hell. 

Shaking her head, the rockstar went on to say, “It worked, thankfully. Got the paps and weirdos---yes I am the type to call obsessive, stalking fans weirdos,” her eyes were fierce, staring into the soul of the camera. 

Well, the soul of the audience watching.

“There are lines, people. Boundaries. Ones that should be respected. Yes, I’m aware what it means to be a public figure and therefore my life is an open book half the damn time. But seriously, that doesn’t give permission to stalk the lives of my loved ones. Hell!” she slapped a hand on her thigh, “Even when we first started out….we were kids. We should not have had to constantly watch our backs for people who might want to harm us. Or scare us for that matter.” 

They continued discussing the subject for a brief period. Followed by the events leading to their engagement and marriage. The wedding had been the talk of the year when it was announced. Y/n wore custom Chanel, Pete in his Dress Whites. An intimate ceremony with their friends, family, Pete’s superiors, and few members of the music industry Y/n grew close to. Dolly Parton, Diana Ross, Stevie Nicks, Michael Jackson, and fellow Atlanta natives TLC among the guest list. 

“You two have been together 34 years--married for 22. Maya and Evan recently celebrated 37 years as a couple--tying the knot in 1994. Danny and his wife have been married since 2000 and Ronnie recently celebrated 20 years with her wife. Pun intended, but it appears all members of Y/n and The Romantics found the key to life-lasting romance.”

“We did, didn’t we?!” Y/n clapped her hands in glee, lightly bouncing on the couch from the excitement. “I had never thought of that before, oh my gosh, that’s amazing!” Mav laughed with her but then had to calm down Goose who got up from the sudden noise and started barking. Making Ice, who’d been laying on the couch, get off to leave the living room. “I should write a song about that,” the idea came to mind, Y/n straightening up with an expression indicating a light bulb went off. “Oh yeah,” humming, she fell back against the couch with a content exhale, “I know what our next album is going to be. And I promise to put you on the credits,” she ends with a point to the producer, who appreciated the gesture with a grin and thumbs up.

“Looking forward to it.” 

November 10th, 2024 -- The Chinese Theater in Hollywood, Los Angeles, California. 

A block away from their Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Y/n and The Romantics stood in front of the iconic Chinese Theater to the flashing cameras and screams of fans for the premiere of their documentary film, “Rock to Romance: The Story of Five Kids from Atlanta with A Dream of Rock n’ Roll.’ 

Already a success with the critics praising the direction, production, and the intimate, raw interviews of the band members, the documentary was a hit. The Atlanta premiere the week prior reserved for special guests and critics shot Y/n back in time to 1978. They were at Olympic Centennial Park, down the street from the intersection where it all started. Overcome with emotion, the frontwoman had to excuse herself from the red carpet early. Escaping to a bathroom where Ronnie and Maya found her, the trio embraced in a hug with no words needed to understand the message. 

They lived their dreams. They were icons of Rock and Roll.

Now at the Hollywood premiere, Y/n was more relaxed. At ease with the environment. Reporters of major news stations and entertainment media waited patiently for their turn at interviewing the band. Celebrities from every industry one could think of attended. Many of which were fans themselves and had the honor of calling Y/n and The Romantics their friend. Directors Baz Luhrmann and Greta Gerwig--both secretly competing to direct the group's biopic. Georgia natives that couldn’t make the Atlanta premiere: Walton Goggins, Dakota and Elle Fanning and Gladys Knight. Actors including Robert Downey Jr., Jack Black, Chris Tucker, Meryl Streep, and Michele Yeoh. Professional dancer Derek Hough, who’d been Ronnie’s partner on Dancing With The Stars. Supermodels of the 80s and 90s Cindy Crawford, Tyra Banks, and Iman. Then there were some athletes like Rafael Nadal, Carl Lewis, Michael Jordan, Venus and Serena Williams, and Mary Lou Retton. 

And of course, you can’t forget the rockstars. Members of Duran Duran, Cheap Trick, U2, Guns N’ Roses, Journey, Blondie and Def Leppard. Cyndi Lauper, Janet Jackson, Pat Benatar, Annie Lennox, Stevie Nicks, Joan Jett, and Pattie LaBelle. 

Fans lined the streets, screaming each time a car rolled up and finally exploded the moment all five members were together. 

Y/n stood in the middle, Maya and Ronnie on either side, Evan next to Maya and Danny beside Ronnie. The ladies appeared as walking Goddesses in custom Dior and the fellas stunning in Louis Vuitton. They posed for the array of paparazzi and fans. Doing their best not to squint as the ongoing flashing lights blinded them. Ronnie cracked jokes; Evan flirted with Maya to get her blushing. Danny, like always, gave his blue steel.

 And Y/n? She was just happy to be there. 

Searching the crowd for her husband and invited guests, the rockstar was relieved when they finished the red carpet portion of the event. Beelining to Maverick, accompanied by the group of dagger ducklings she loved dearly. “I’m so happy you guys made it!!” Embracing each one of them, Y/n moved to Pete’s side once placing a motherly kiss to Rooster’s cheek. 

“We wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Y/n,” Natasha told her, the guys echoing with approval. She was wearing vintage Oscar De La Renta. A gift from Y/n when she made Commander. “This is insane,” she awed, motioning to the scene around them. The carpet was still underway with stars, the countdown to the film minutes away. “And here I thought nothing would compete with the Hall of Fame induction.”

“Speak for yourself, Trace,” Jake, handsome as ever in his Tom Ford suit, spoke from behind. “I for one knew this premiere would have a larger turn out. I mean c’mon, it’s all everyone’s been talking about since March.” Rolling her eyes, Natasha turned back to Y/n, who was biting back a laugh at the two. 

Rooster, out of his typical Hawaiian shirt and instead nicely dressed in a custom Ralph Lauren tuxedo, stepped forward. “I guess I’ll be the first of these clowns to say, congratulations to you and the band, Y/n on this amazing film. It’s been an honor watching it unfold, and we’re excited for what comes next.”

“Aw, Bradley,” she holds back the tears this time to not mess up her makeup, but pulls him into another hug nonetheless. “Thank you. It means so much to us--and I’m so grateful to have you all here. To be part of this journey. Supporting me and Pete, the band and just everything.” 

“No tears,” Reuben, also wearing Ralph Lauren, playfully scolds. “Can't be messing up that pretty face when you have a speech to give in front of a theater full of Hollywood hot shots. Save that for the party.”

“Please,” she scoffs, returning the manner, “I’ll be too drunk to cry. I might be 60, but I can still hold my liquor.”

“Planet Enterprise, right?” A Gucci wearing Javy raises a brow, making finger guns. 

The rockstar winked, “You know it.”

Ten minutes after passing time with small talk, the group were ushered inside where Y/n quickly returned to her bandmates for the speeches and introductions of the doc. Managing to keep it together, Y/n thanked her family, friends, Pete, the crew and production company for dedicating the time and energy to making the documentary, and of course her best friends on stage. 

The four individuals who were the only ones on the planet to relate to everything Y/n experienced in the world of rock n roll. 50+ years of friendship. Seeing each other at their best and worst. Accomplishing milestones together. 

They were more than a band. They were a family.

Finally the lights turned off, the screen went white, and the reel began rolling. Opening with the image of Y/n on her living room couch. The image of a woman, who was once a young girl with dreams of playing her Fender Esquire on the stages of Madison Square Garden and the Staples Center. Possessing the voice of an angel who broke away from God to become a rockstar. 

“If you could travel back to 1978 and give your fourteen-year-old self advice for the road ahead, what would you tell her?”

“I’d tell her……don’t lose that dream, little one. You’ve got the journey of a lifetime waiting for you.” 

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