#maverick angst

[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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[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Eyes Wide Shut

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x Reader

Description: You once thought you'd found the love of your life. But love isn't supposed to drain away, leaving the vestiges of its warmth behind, leaving you numb and unfeeling. Yet that is exactly where you've found yourself. You've spent longer than you know pretending to be in love. One romantic dinner gone cold is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Finding your Grandmother's typewriter languishing in the garage when you thought it lost? The catalyst. Your friends had warned you. You didn't believe them. Now, you're taking your life back and he doesn't have a place in it anymore.

Warnings: Angst, Cheating (Implied), End of a Relationship, Angsty

Word Count: 3174

A/N: Hiya Lovelies!

I'm back! I hope you all enjoy this one-shot. I have to thank @sarahsmi13s for reading this fic over and steering me the right way. Thanks Vin! This fic is inspired by the Illenium and Avril Lavigne song, Eyes Wide Shut.

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

The candle flickers and gutters, wax dripping down the stubby remains of the taper. You’ve been sitting in silence for hours. Dinner is long cold in front of you, two pristine place settings waiting for the food, carefully arranged on the serving platters. You made his favorite meal, not that you've enjoyed a morsel of it. The only thing touched on your side of the table is your wine glass. Crimson prints dot the clear crystal rim, and the bottle of wine you opened for your anniversary is empty. You can’t remember the last time you saw your boyfriend. It feels like you only ever see each other in passing, stealing moments for a quick smile, a short exchange of words. You always find the time to tell him you love him, a phrase he presses into your temple before he rushes out of the door. But you’re not sure you believe the words anymore. Telling yourself you’re fine doesn’t seem to work anymore, either.

It’s your anniversary, and your boyfriend’s not here. Shouldn’t you feel something at this moment? Sad? Angry? Worried? You don’t feel much of anything anymore. It feels like you’ve been muffled in cotton batting for months. Those late nights when your house feels like a mausoleum, you wish you were anywhere but in San Diego. Once upon a time, everything felt different.

The peals of your laughter rang through the empty house. It’s your first house, and despite all of the boxes in the center of the room, you had been trying to paint the walls of your bedroom. Trying was the key word. There was more paint on your face and your boyfriend’s face than there is on the walls. Pete had been smearing bright blue over your skin, as you tried and failed to stop him. Of course you gave as good as you got. You still remember how there had been flakes of cerulean spiraling from his dark hair, scattered like freckles across his muscular shoulders.

You can still remember the joy in this room, how the sun had transformed the blue into warmth akin to the most placid of ocean waves. Now it feels like you're drowning.

“Pete!” 

You’d squealed the words as he pressed you into the wall, hard lean muscles and smooth skin weighing into you, with an impish smile crinkling the corners of his green eyes. He had paint, wet and glistening, on the palm of his hand as he brought it closer and closer to your torso.

“Nuh-uh, beautiful.” His grin made your heart skip a beat, once. “You know how much I like touching you when I kiss you.”

“I like you touching me when you're not covered in the paint, which should be on our wall, Peter.”

Your tone was only half-chiding. You'd ended up with more paint on yourself than your walls. But you hadn’t minded. That night ended like so many nights did between you and Pete in the beginning. There were cheap bottles of red wine opened in a half-painted room with a box of pizza open on your makeshift cardboard coffee table as the two of you swayed gently to music blaring out of the boombox sitting on the tarp covered floor.

Looking at the room, still half-painted four years later, doesn't bring you joy anymore, only pain. Once upon a time the two of you held as much potential as the streaks of paint did on the wall. You were supposed to make a life together. Piece by piece every brick of your dreams had been dismantled. It should be horrifying that you are only realizing it now, at half past 11 on your fifth anniversary.

But the truth is, you can’t remember how long it has been since you smiled. Pete used to make you smile every day, what with his endearing habit of singing off key and grabbing hold of you every chance he got. You used to shriek in laughter as he twirled you around, peppering kisses into the tender skin behind the hollows of your ears, the delicate skin of your inner wrists. Now, when you smile into the mirror you look deranged, the faux curl of your lips evident in the half light of the bedroom you used to share with Pete. Only half the bed is mussed, holding the shape of your body and your body alone. It's been at least a month or so since you've seen Pete in the house you still share on paper. 

He's not deployed. It’s been months since Pete was deployed. Anyways, the deployments, sparse and sporadic as they are, you believe you’ve handled with aplomb. At least when Pete is deployed you are able to call him on the phone. Now, even if you call, you're not sure he'll even pick up.

After Goose, after the Leyte Gulf, Pete came back to San Diego and accepted a post at Top Gun. You’d bought the house with Pete then, looking forward to settling down, spreading out roots. Bradley and Carole were still in town, needing to be close to the only family they had left. You welcomed their presence in your life, welcomed the stability and calm they brought about in Pete.

Now, you're not sure the man you loved is even there anymore. Back then, you'd have sworn Pete Mitchell was the love of your life. You're not sure when you fell out of love with him. You remember the ghosts of how that love felt, how the warmth of it had fanned across your cheeks and hovered in the hollow of your chest. But those feelings are just memories, now. The warmth you felt once has waned, ice growing in your chest where the flames once licked. 

You know Pete's not coming home tonight. A part of you had been hoping still. But as the clock ticks past the midnight hour and continues onward, you have to give up on your fledgling hope. If there was any love you still felt for Pete Mitchell, it's gone now. But you can’t bring yourself to care about the love you lost. All you can think about is what to do next.

There's nothing left for you here, in this house with its half-blue halls and echoes of your happiness. So why are you crying when you see your reflection in the mirror as you take off your new dress and rip your lingerie uncaringly away? You had plans for tonight. In another life, Pete would have been home at 6 o’clock on the dot, a bunch of red roses clenched in his fist. He’d have blushed at the sight of you in the scanty fabric of your dress, then said a line which would have had your blush joining his. The dinner congealing on your dining table? By now, it should have been just crumbs, as should the cake in the fridge. 

You wish you were dancing with Pete, swaying with your head over his heart as his hands curl around you. Once Pete’s hands were the safest place you knew. You used to trust him with your life, your heart. Now, tears trail down your cheeks from your swollen red eyes, evidence that Pete is no longer here to wipe them away. Even the clothes you prefer to lounge in are his. Everything in the bedroom is like he left it, just as you are. The worst part is how you can’t even find it in yourself to be angry with him. He pulled away first, but you didn’t chase after him either. Did you change without him? Or did he change without you?

It’s time to take stock of your life. What happened to the girl who was out celebrating her PhD at a Navy bar with her friends? You’d never have met Pete if you had stayed home that night like you sorely wanted to. You’d never have given up the job you had lined up in New York and settled into the life of a trophy girl if you hadn't met him. 

What happened to that girl? The one who wanted to become a journalist? Who wanted to write the next great American Novel or win the Pulitzer Prize? Have you written a word in the years since? Words other than notes to buy groceries or love notes to Pete?

When did Peter Mitchell snip your wings so completely, shackling you to the rise and fall of his career? 

Your lipstick streaks across your face as you wipe the tears away, smearing crimson across your cheeks. They’re as hot as the anger burning in you, because you can’t stay here, not anymore. You wanted Pete to propose when you woke up this morning, sure he was just busy at the office. Obviously the opposite is true now. You’ve just been completely, obtusely, ridiculously stupid.

Tom, sweet, kind Tom, one of your only friends in San Diego, had tried to warn you, too.

“You know what he’s like, he’s so in love with you!” 

He’d murmured one summer afternoon last year when you were over at the Kazanskys, loving cuddling with Tom and Sarah’s eldest boy, who was nine months old and gorgeous. “He’s always running out of work early to come home to you.”

Your heart should have broken when you heard those words.

“Tom, Pete’s missed dinner every night for months. He said he’s had a ton of paperwork to finish on base.”

At first you had missed the dismay growing on your friend's face, wholly occupied by the baby's giggles as you blew raspberries onto his chubby cheeks. The silence clued you in. When you look up, there are twin spots of red rising up on his cheeks and his hair is awry.

“He told me he was coming home to you.”

You had shrugged a little, choosing to focus your attention on the baby in your arms so you can’t see the expression on his face.

“I’m sure everything’s fine, Tom. This is Pete we’re talking about here! He wouldn’t cheat or lie!”

“But sweetheart, he is lying, isn't he? God knows I am fond of him, but you shouldn't let him treat you like that! Are you sure you don’t want to figure out what he is doing?”

It was easy to brush Tom off after that exchange, in the middle of a barbeque with people he hasn’t seen in months waiting to catch up. You’d ignored Sarah too, once the baby was in bed for the night and only close friends were left, when there was nobody for you to hide behind. 

You’d loved Pete enough to ignore the red flags hoisting up the flagpole. The blindfold has fallen off of your face now. You can’t deny the facts anymore. Pete��s lying to everyone. He’s lying to his friends. He’s lying to you. Worst of all, he’s treating you like you’re not worth the space you hold in the world. It would hurt less, you think, if he just had the decency to break up with you.

But he hadn’t. You’re not sure he ever will. It’s a little ironic, isn’t it? That the man is more than willing to strap himself to a rocket at high speeds and shoot at other people strapped to rockets moving at high speeds, but he can’t talk to you. The woman he loves, the woman he loved enough to string along. The woman who sacrificed her core being for him.

This is the last straw. You’re not going through this again. All the fights, all the tears, the pain, the despair. You’re done. You’re drawing the line in the sand. 

Two hours later, and the bedroom where you once laid your head to sleep every night as well as the home you built, is emptier than it’s been since before you moved in. Only Pete’s things are left arrayed around the place. It doesn’t feel like home anymore without your cheerful blanket laid across the foot of the bed, and without your cardigan laid over the chair of Pete’s office desk. It should be sad how easy it is to pack your life away - to split everything in the house into his and yours. But you can’t be sad.

Not when you clamber carefully up the ladder in the garage and see your typewriter, your vintage, lovingly-cared-for typewriter, the only inheritance you received from your grandmother, sitting on the shelf in its carrying case. When Pete and you had moved in together, he’d told you the typewriter had been lost by the post office, lost when your parents shipped it across the country. The rage simmering in your blood heats to a fever pitch. You can forgive a lot of Pete’s actions over the past five years and accept an equal share of the blame for how your relationship has deteriorated. But you can’t forgive how easily he dismissed your dreams.

Your car is loaded up with everything you can rightfully say you own. You’re taking the typewriter with you, of course you are. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right, leaving without saying a final goodbye. So you type your heart out, writing a letter to the man you once thought would be the love of your life. You leave it lying on the pristine dining table, all the leftovers discarded. The sun is just peeking out on the horizon, over the deep blue waves of the Pacific Ocean as you drive away from everything you’ve called home for the past five years. You’re finally free.

Dear Pete,

I’m leaving you.

I didn’t realize it would feel like this to say those words. I’m sad, of course I am. I hoped we would be forever once. I hoped beyond hope we could build a life together. I hoped we could settle down, have a family of our own. I realized today that my dreams were never going to happen. My dreams are always going to be working towards an opposite goal from yours, aren’t they? Do you even know what it is like to want something that doesn't involve you risking your life to fly in a jet faster than the speed of sound?

People have always commented that you and I were an odd pair. I refused to believe it, but sitting in the half light of our dining room on the night of our fifth anniversary, a night where I don’t know where you are, I think I might be starting to. 

On paper, you and I shouldn't have worked. You're a Naval Aviator, smart and devilishly handsome. You can have anyone, anything you want and you have the stubbornness, the will to make it happen, too. In contrast, I was a twenty-something just out of school. School was all I knew. I remember feeling so exhilarated that night at the O-Club. The world was full of promise. I wasn't looking for anything, but like I said, you’ve never had a problem fighting for what you want. You also didn't have a problem convincing me that what you wanted was what I wanted - but that is besides the point.

It was your ability to fight for what you believed in that had me falling head-over-heels for you. It was easy to shelve my dreams, everything I was hoping to achieve with my PhD, for you. You were worth deferring my dreams because I knew then that you would fight for me, for us. Apparently I was wrong. 

Tom told me the truth at Parker's first birthday party. He told me you were leaving work early, carrying bouquets of flowers, seemingly for me. His face when I told him I've barely seen you in months? The horror and shock in it? I don't relish causing our friends pain. So I made excuses. I've been making excuses for years, after all.

“Sorry, mom. Pete's deployed so he won't be coming home with me for the holidays. I worry about him, but I know he's doing alright. I just spoke to him on the phone the other day and he sent you his love.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah! Pete's running a little late. He wouldn't miss Parker's first birthday!”

I can't make those excuses for you anymore - not to our friends and family and not to myself.

So how come you haven’t given me flowers in two years but you've been leaving work holding bouquets almost every night? I guess it's a question I'll never get an answer for. There's one other thing bothering me. You're a straight-shooter, Pete. You always have been. So why, if you fell out of love with me, did you not just tell me?

Were you scared of the response you'd get? Were you scared you would break my heart? 

My heart's a little battered and bruised, but it's far from broken, Pete. I'm sad, sad to lose a relationship I've put effort into for five years of my life, but I'm not heartsore about the loss. Instead, I'm angry. I'm angry that I wasted five years of my life being shoved into a box by you. I loved you, but I hated, I still hate, how easy it was for you to discount me, discount my aspirations. We were supposed to be equal partners in this relationship. I was never supposed to be the woman waiting at home for you to come back, the kind who has dinner on the table prompt at 6:30. I wanted to live my life, too. My career, my hopes, wants and dreams were always supposed to be equal to yours. It's my biggest shame that I let you convince me they weren't.

I haven't been in love with you for a long time. I've been telling you I loved you on muscle memory, the words of affection tasting like ashes in my mouth because my heart wasn't behind them. I’m not sure who I was protecting, you or myself. Especially when it’s obvious the loss is more of a blow to me than it is to you.

Despite it all, Pete, I am thankful for the good times we had. I will miss the nights sitting in the living room with a cheap bottle of red open and records playing. I will miss the early mornings where you and I would list against each other half asleep at the kitchen table, our feet intertwined in the morning sunlight as we sat in each other’s company. Above all, I think I’ll miss the sensation of knowing someone as deeply, as intimately as I once knew you.

I’ve spoken to Carole and little Bradley, Tom and Sarah and Parker, all of our friends, our family. They know how to reach me, they’ve been ordered to stay in touch. You’ll forgive me if I don’t extend the same offer to you. I think I need the space from you. I think you need the space from me too. 

I hope, Pete, you find who and what you’re looking for.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @sarahsmi13s @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @cherrycola27 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @blue-aconite

[thewulf]

Authority Thing || Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Summary: Request - Hi can you write a request about Maverick x a shy pilot reader and make it fluffy. Like Maverick pulls reader out of her shell?

A/N: Kinda made this a shy pilot because she’s crushing on him not because she’s shy in general. Also turned out way more angsty than I was planning but it’s still super fluffy! Hope you still enjoy :)

Pairing: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x Y/N (2022 Version)

Word Count: 3.7k +

Edited again 3/11/24 after finding lots of issues - sorry!

He knew from the moment he spotted you in the back of the classroom on that very first day he was a goner. Physically, you were perfect. Your hair framed your face perfectly, your eyes reflected the sunshine in a way he’d never seen, your smile was truly infectious, you were perfect in all the right places.

Mentally, you were a challenge for him. You were shy. So quiet. He couldn’t seem to get through to you either. You were close. So damn close to taking that next step. But it’s like you were afraid. You were scared to fail. You were an exceptional pilot. Right on par with Hangman. You were good enough to block him out and take him down. You were able to prove that you were the best of the literal best. But something was stopping you.

You were never afraid to challenge your classmates. He got a kick out of it when you’d snap back at Hangman with the venom dripping in your voice. You were beyond intimidating when you needed to be. You didn’t need to talk shit because your flying proved how good you really were. You knew you were good. You knew you were great. You also knew your limits. You knew you needed to become exceptional. There was something more for you to give. You just had to find it first.

But Pete, Maverick, Mitchell? Maverick terrified you, in the best way. He was a legend. Literally never lost. Almost had five live air kills… you could go on and on about him. Ad to find out he was your instructor for the next six or so weeks? You knew you were toast. Absolute toast. Then you actually laid eyes on the Captain, and you wish you could’ve just exploded right there on the spot. He was handsome. So, fucking handsome. You locked eyes with him for only seconds on that first day of class before your turned away. You didn’t look back to him at all that class. Too terrified you’d make a damn fool of yourself.

So, you kept it short with him. Quick ‘Yes’s and No’s’. You’d often just take his corrections without fighting back. It confused him. You were so damn different with him than anybody else. You’d even warmed up to Cyclone, the Admiral for God’s sake. He saw you walking, talking, and laughing with him on your way to lunch one day. He didn’t have a clue as to why you were so shy around him. Why you’d rather run in the opposite direction than have to pass him in the hallway. It’d only been two weeks and it was driving him mad. He needed to talk with you. Was it something he did?

He would he decided. At the end of your next classroom session. One way or another he’d get some answers out of you. He needed to know if he did something wrong. It was gnawing at the back of his head.

“Birdie, if you don’t mind. Stay back for a second?” You looked at Bob who just shrugged, unsure of what your instructor could have wanted. You packed up slowly letting everybody trickle out before walking towards the front of the classroom.

Birdie. Your callsign. You had a love and hate relationship with it. You’d always joked that you felt like a bird in the sky when you were in training to become a pilot. Your friends promptly started calling you Birdie and it just stuck. You kind of wished you had a more fun story to tell other than the boring one of how you got your callsign. But alas, you didn’t. It was simple. Cute. Basic. Kind of like you. You’d never seen yourself as anything but ordinary. Just Y/N. Good at her job Y/N.

“Captain.” You let out a shaky breath. He made you nervous. So damn nervous. People of authority always did. And then he looked like that on top of it? Forget it. You were a goner. It wasn’t right to be thinking such unsavory thoughts about your damn instructor in your head. It made you act like a fucking weirdo in front of him. Case and point. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

“Good job up there today. Four for four.” You looked up from where you standing just quickly enough to see him staring right at you. Why’d he have to be so handsome? It was an unfair game that was suddenly being played against you.

“Thank you.” A small smile crept to your face hearing the compliment. It felt good. A small praise from the man giving you a small bit of confidence to look up to him but give him no more.

He nodded walking down to you, standing across from you. Your heart rate picked up quickly feeling his presence right there. Right in front of you. Oh, how you’ve avoided this situation masterfully. Now look where you were. Stuck alone in the classroom with him right there in front of you. What could possibly go wrong?

He waited until you looked at him to continue. He knew curiosity would get the better of you sooner or later. He was right. After thirty seconds of silence, you looked up.

He smiled seeing your doe-eyed expression. He shouldn’t feel this way about you. He shouldn’t want to brush the strand of hair that fell out of your bun away from your face. He shouldn’t want to run a hand along your back. He shouldn’t want to fucking kiss you senseless. But he wanted it. He wanted it all and more. So much more. What the hell was wrong with him? You were so young. So lively. Had so much to look forward too. Hell, you even had a shot of becoming an admiral if you had the drive to do it.

“Sir?” You asked, waiting on his question. His reason for holding you back.

He hummed delaying a second, “Everything alright?”

Nodding quickly your head turned up to him again, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

He shrugged looking away for a moment. Giving you a second of reprieve from his gaze. Everything about the man was commanding. Everything, “No reason. You just seem to be a bit fidgety?”

What the hell was he going on about? You weren’t acting any different than you had been prior, “I do?” Of course, you were fucking fidgety. He was less than a foot from you not having a damn clue what he was doing to you. You could smell him. He smelled better than you imagined. Leather, oil, and cedar all mixed together. Way too good for a day instructing on base.

“Did I do something?” He spit it out. Well, it was out in the open now. It’s not like he could take it back. It sounded so terribly insecure when he spoke it out loud.

You shook your head, “No, not at all Captain.” Your heart started racing as he gave you a once over.

“Then what is it Lieutenant?” He asked with all the calmness in the world.

Your head was swimming. Swimming with thousands, millions of thoughts, “Sir?” Play dumb. That was always the easiest route to go.

“Why can’t you look me in the eye Y/N?” Why’d he have to use your name like that? It got your dumb hear racing faster than even you were used to.

Your eyes snapped to his. That was not the question you were expecting, “You… Authority makes me nervous.” You spoke quietly deciding to keep your eyes locked in on his. Not letting his statement completely reign true.

He grinned a wicked look before a much more innocent one came to face, you didn’t miss it though, “I make you nervous?”

You said nothing at first, nodding quickly in agreement instead, “Authority.” It was merely a whisper.

Mav’s face cracked into a simper while he studied your features, “There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

You didn’t move your head, but your eyes moved to look to him, “I suppose that’s easier said than realized.” You admitted.

He stepped forward. Probably crossing a line, he shouldn’t have. But he couldn’t stand it. Why were you comfortable with everybody else but him, “What can I do then?”

You cocked your head to the side, “What do you mean Mav?” You asked so softly he thought his knees were going to buckle right then and there. You said his name so sweetly it took him off guard. He really should just let you go. This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t be pressing you like this. He knew better than to. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to press on. Dig a little deeper. See you a little bit better. He was intrigued.

“Is there anything I can do to make you less nervous?”

You laughed softly. Get ugly? Stop looking like that? Stop being so hot in a flight suit? Stop being my flight instructor? “Afraid not Captain.” You sat back on the desk knowing this was likely not going to be over soon.

He took a seat next to you, “Why not?”

You shrugged, “It’s the authority thing. Call it trauma.” You joked.

He smiled along with you, “So, say I wasn’t your instructor…”

Cutting him off quickly you felt your blood run cold, “You’re not going to kick me off the squadron are you?” your panicked look made him feel awful

He shook his head quickly, “No, no never. It’s a hypothetical.”

You sighed softly, “Sorry.” You felt an overwhelming amount of embarrassment consume you. You’d worked so hard to get to where you are that even a little bit of an inkling of a threat sent you into overthinking mode. You weren’t proud of it by any means. It was something you were working on.

“It’s fine.” He smiled feeling your tension just radiate off your body. He seemed to pick up on anything relating to you. Again, he had to wonder. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Would you be as nervous around me if I wasn’t your instructor?” He quirked up a brow all too curious to hear your answer.

You laughed softly, “Yes, I would.” It was starting to become easier to talk to him. But he still intimidated the hell out of you. You hadn’t a clue how to navigate your superior being hot as hell. Normally they were old dudes who had kids your age. Not Maverick.

He huffed in almost frustration. He appreciated thar you were being honest with him, but he wasn’t sure what it was about him, “But why?”

You shrugged, “Still an authority, Captain.”

He placed a hand a little too close to yours, “You seemed just fine with Cyclone earlier.” He leaned in almost challenging you. He loved talking to you, but this conversation had gone of for too long now. Curiosity was literally killing the cat.

You nodded along with him, “Well yeah, that’s different.”

He looked at you incredulously, “How?”

It slipped out before you really meant to say it, “He’s married.” And then it was out there. It didn’t take Pete long to put two and two together. You were basically screaming that he was off limits and that Pete wasn’t. You didn’t mean to all but admit it but here you were. Heart hammering in your chest.

“I mean. He’s established. He’s not my direct authority. You know what I mean?” Even you didn’t know what you meant. You were caught red handed. Hand in the cookie jar. Damn. It is what it is now.

Mav shook his head with a lopsided grin, “I think I know exactly what you mean Y/N.” He also knew you’d never outright admit it either. He realized just how damn weird the whole thing was for you as well. He was your superior. You couldn’t cross that line either. Not unless you knew for sure that it was alright. The game the both of you were playing was dangerous. Very dangerous.

Thick tension hung in the air. You hadn’t a clue what to say to your instructor after accidentally telling him the real reason he made you so nervous. Not outright spilling the truth but putting making it rather obvious in your wake instead.

“I should get going.” You stood from the table you were sitting on.

He mimicked your actions, “Should you?”

Nodding your head you gave him a flash of a smile, “Yeah, long day tomorrow. You said so yourself. Right?” Raising your eyebrows, you knew you had him there.

His otherworldly smile lit up his face. God, he was so handsome. That just wasn’t fair.

“Right. Sleep well Y/N. See you in the morning.”

“You too Pete.” You weren’t sure why you used his first name, but it felt right. Felt like a step you wanted to take for yourself.

You didn’t catch the furious blush that rose to his cheeks at that. He knew he needed to pull back immediately, or he’d get himself, or you, in trouble. He couldn’t be blushing around Cyclone when you came around. He’d just have to ignore it. He could do that. Or so he thought he could.

Maverick must have gotten in your head. The next day was... less than stellar. You had a bad day. A very bad day. You landed without a single victory. With Rooster shooting you down for the second time that afternoon.

Sitting in the jet cockpit of the hangar you’d pulled your helmet off without much thought and just sat there. Thinking. You were fine yesterday. What the hell happened today? You’d been shot down five times. Twice by Hangman, twice by Rooster and once by Phoenix. You weren’t even close to shooting them down.

You were too eager with you grip making dumb rookie mistakes. Mistakes that’d have you shot down in an instant up in the air. All of them were able to see it and exploit it. A bad day. That’s all it was. It didn’t make you a bad pilot. Not in the slightest. You had to remember that. Drop today and remember how good you really were.

“Are you going to come down Lieutenant?” That voice broke you from the thoughts that were seemingly tormenting you in the cockpit. The ones that kept seeming to tell you that you weren’t good enough. You might’ve been the best at your home base but not here. No. You were average amongst the best.

Your eyes snapped open. Pete? What was he doing down there? He hardly came out here after training, “Yeah.” You answered quickly not wanting to leave him waiting. He wasn't one for patience, “Just thinking.” You knew you needed an excuse or he would press. No matter how lame it may be. But it wasn’t a lie. You really were just thinking.

He didn’t say a word as you came down the ladder. When you got a good look at him he almost looked, angry? His lips were drawn in a thin line. He had a hard time looking at you. Eyebrows stitched too close together for him to be in a good mood.

“What the hell was that?” His normally chipper tone had vanished. He sounded too much like an instructor now. He didn’t even sound like the Maverick you had gotten to know. No, a drill sergeant instead. He noticed your expression change as you realized this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.

He felt bad doing such a 180 on you like that. But he had to, for your sake. Or so he thought.

“I’m not sure sir… I...” You stammered trying to come up with something. He’d already made you nervous and now this? You were a blubbering mess. Sure to look like the fool of a woman you knew they were likely expecting of you. See, the men could make mistakes. You couldn't. Women couldn't.

“Not a single kill today Lieutenant?” His voice stayed icy as you stood there forward like he was a drill Sargant. It suddenly felt like you were back in basic training all over again.

You looked down in what felt like shame, “No, Captain.” The voice that came out of you sounded weak. Likely because you felt weak. You didn’t feel like you were good enough to be here. Like all those kills you got against Hangman and Rooster prior to this day was just all just luck. Straight luck. Rationally, you knew better. You knew how good of pilot you were. You wouldn’t be good enough to get here. But your own mind was playing tricks on you. Planting seeds that should’ve never been dug.

He pressed further not seeing that he was beginning to push you past your breaking point. Further than even you would have expected from him. Your head was already coming down too hard on yourself. His words only seemed to dig that dagger in a little further that drove the final nail in the coffin of your confidence.

“What’s the problem then Lieutenant?” He stepped closer, challenging you. You weren’t in the right headspace for this. Not in the slightest.

You shook your head slowly, “I don’t know Mav.” Looking down at your boots you couldn’t bear to look up at his disappointed expression. You were just trying to hold back the tears at this point.

“You don’t know?” He sounded patronizing as if he was talking to a toddler.

“I…no.” Your voice was too shaky, so you stopped. Collect yourself. You could do this. You’ve done this hundreds of times before.

He must’ve not noticed the tears that were threatening to spill over as you looked up at him finally, “I can’t put somebody on a team who doesn't know what's going on. I need somebody who knows what they do wrong!" His voice grew from anger to frustration as he spoke. Yet he failed to see your utterly devastated gaze as he went on and on about things you had already known. Each word felt like a knife as he continued on, "You won't get a second chance on this mission. If you get shot down you're as good as dead."

Your heart ran cold, feeling as though it was shattering into a million pieces right then and there, “You don’t think I know that sir?” Your voice nearly broke as it wobbled through trying to finish the sentence.

He’d certainly noticed it then as his eyes finally found your tear stained cheeks. He usually knew how hard he could push. He could usually push you a whole lot harder, but he’d gone too far today. He knew when he heard that unusual waver in your voice.

He hadn't planned it but he knew he needed to back off, “It’s a bad day. It happens. Shake it off Birdie." The words come out of his mouth so fast he was sure you felt like you were getting whiplash from his hot and cold behavior. One moment he was nearly flirting with you then the next he scolding you.

He didn’t mean it. Not a bit of it. He didn’t even like being an asshole to Hangman, although it was fun sometimes. Being one to you made him feel awful. But he had to. He wasn't kidding when he said you didn't get second chances out there.

You shook your head, “I’ll do better tomorrow. I don’t know…”

He cut you off by placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. He hadn’t noticed how wound up about the day you had already been. He didn’t mean to push you further. He was just trying to be the instructor you needed to succeed on this mission that didn't have amazing outcomes.

This was the opposite of being tough on you though, “It’s fine Y/N. Go home. Read a book or watch some TV. Come back tomorrow. You’ll be just fine.”

You looked at his hand on his shoulder before looking at him, giving him a curt nod, “Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You turned to walk away, brushing the tears away from your eyes.

Before you could walk through the locker room door you tuned back to him. After today you weren't sure if you even deserved the consideration,“You shouldn’t pick me.” You said so quiet you weren’t even sure if he heard it.

By the way he walked right over he must have. He grabbed your arm suddenly, not forcefully by any means, “Don’t say that. Why would you say that?” He genuinely felt awful for pushing too hard now. This didn't seem like you. You were headstrong. Stronger than even he seemed.

You looked down almost ashamed to admit it to him, “Because… because I’m not good enough sir. You saw me out there today. I'm as good as dead.” You were supposed to be the best of the best, but you hardly felt like it today. You were getting your ass handed to you left and right. Hangman was laying it on thick today too. He did that whenever he got the chance.

The day started bad when Rooster knocked you out almost immediately. And only got worse on subsequent runs. You were zero for four by the time you went up for the last round of the day. You got in your own damn head. It happened. It happened to everyone. You knew it. Still didn’t make it sting worse when you were on your thousandth pushup for the day.

He shook his head grabbing your hand quickly, “What are you talking about? You’re one of the best pilots I’ve ever worked with. You’re a fucking menace out there Y/N.”

You shook your head, “You’re just saying that because I’m about to cry.” You wanted to believe him. Maybe any other day you’d believe him. It was a no good, very bad day for you.

He only dropped his hand from your arm to bring it to your shoulder once again, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I’m not. I’m really not. Believe it or not.” He sighed collecting his thoughts once more, “I’m sorry. Really. I only come down hard on you because I know you can handle it. But I need you to not think like that. If you do get picked I need your head screwed all the way on. It’s not your run of the mill mission and you know that. You’ve got to be all the way there. All the way present. You hear me?”He asked.

You turned your head to look up to him, “Yeah. I hear you.” Your voice was much more you, more controlled.

He didn’t quite believe you though so he continued, “You are an exceptional pilot Y/N. The rest of the squad needs you to be. Bad days happen. Don’t let that asshole get to you.”

You smiled for the first time that day. It felt good talking with him. Actually, talking and not being afraid of him. A dramatic shift from that of moments ago, “You got it. Thanks Mav.” You wanted to thank him as a friend. Maybe a potential suitor. Not as a student. Not as a subordinate. But as a person.

He smiled for the first time that day as well. He had a long way yet to go with you, but it was a start. Something. He knew one thing that was sure. He was excited to get this damn mission over with. He didn’t want to be your superior anymore. He wanted to be your co-worker. The person you turned and laughed with whenever the most outrageous orders were given. He wanted to get there, was determined to get there.

“Sure thing, Y/N.” He let his hand fall, “See you at the Hard Deck tonight?” He asked curiously.

“You’re coming?” You’d seen him there the first night. You’d thought he was the most handsome thing in the bar. Hangman did not. Kept giving you shit for giving the ‘old man’ eyes. Whatever. You hadn’t seen him at the bar sense that night though. But he knew you guys went every Thursday. He listened.

“Maybe.”

You smiled once more, “You should. It’d be fun to see you kick Hangman’s ass in trivia.”

He laughed, a genuine one, one he hadn’t felt in quite some time, “How do you know I’m any good at trivia?”

You shrugged, “Have a feeling. Hope to see you tonight Pete.” The wink you sent him sent butterflies aflame throughout your body. Where in the hell did that confidence come from?

Pete legs went to jelly for a second as he watched you walk away. That you would. He was sure of it.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @dempy

[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.

[jaidens]

Maverick Mitchell angst fic where breakdowns in front of the reader after Goose's death

And Feel You Forget Me Like I Used To Feel You Breathe

pairing [s] : pete mitchell x reader

warning [s] : mentions of : death, crying, regret, blame |

a/n [s] : ty for the request! [requests are open]

After Goose’s death, Pete became distant and gone. Drinking away his feelings and long motorcycle rides to flee away from his problems, and people that brought up his problems. He only called Carole five times since that day; deciding that in her head, he was the worst person to ever touch the ground of the Earth.

One day he comes home smelling like cheap booze. He shrugs his bomber jacket off of him and sets it on the hooks that are on the wall. You're sleeping on the small couch with a thin blanket over you. The television is on and it's playing some dumb movie from the 70s. You pop up whenever Pete accidentally drops one of his boots too quickly on the floor.

“Pete! Oh, I was worried sick. Where have you been? Oh you smell like alcohol.” You stand up and walk over to Pete and smooth out his t-shirt. He doesn't hold eye contact with you. He looks at the ground like a kid who just got in time out.

“I was nowhere. Get off me.” The anger spits from his mouth and he pushes against you. You immediately turn to look at his back side. “What? I’m an adult. I can do whatever I goddamn please!” You can't even tell why he's so angry. You haven't crowded him or anything, he's just getting angry at his own head. You attempt to walk closer to him and he's huffing and puffing while throwing together a sandwich on the island counter.

You're dressed in his t-shirt and a pair of underwear. Usually, he would get real close to hug you whenever he gets home. Now, he's cold to you and only speaks to you whenever he's forced too. “Pete what is happening to you? Honey, you have to talk.” Your hand goes to his forearm and sits there comfortingly.

“I don't wanna talk. That's all everyone tells me. ‘You have to talk Pete!’ What if I don't want too? Has anyone ever thought of that?!” His voice echoes through the house and you see his lip quivers whenever he finishes. His eyes start to tear and you see his face start to flush. He covers his face with his hand and shakes it.

All you do is stare at him and choose to not speak. He's vulnerable right now and you worry you might hurt him. Quiet sobs start and he moves his body to lay in your arms. You attempt to drag him away from the kitchen to the living room, to let him sit down against the couch.

He sits down on the creme-colored couch and he sets his elbows on his knees. Your hand goes to his back and he almost begins to shake. You've only seen Pete like this a few times, vulnerable and scared. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I'm sorry. I’m Sor—” Pete says quickly before you stop him.

“Pete no, you don't have to apologize for anything. You're grieving. This is normal.”

Pete looks at you with blood-shot eyes, cheeks a burning red, and puffy eyes. The feelings he's been having finally started to cut through his strong walls he had put up. He wipes away the tears that fall from his eyes. “It's so hard. To go to work and know everyone looks at me. And it's my fault that Bradley doesn't have a Dad, Carole doesn't have a husband, and I lost my best friend.”

You sit there and let him talk. Pete curls in on himself to hide himself. “It wasn't your fault. I understand it's hard to not think that. The situation was the plane, not the pilot. Those are your words, not mine. Carole doesn't blame you, honey. You shouldn't blame yourself. Bradley has so much love.” Pete continues to sniffle as he attempts to breathe and relax from his crying fit.

“I know. And, I'm sorry for just not talking to you. I couldn't look you in the face knowing what I did.” Pete admits and you smile at him. He gently scoots over to you and lays against your shoulder. You kiss the temple of his head and put your hand on the side of his head. With a gentle pull, you lay against the arm of the couch and open your legs. Pete slides in-between them and lays his head on your chest.

“It’s alright. You're fine, I'm fine, we'll be alright.” You end the conversation with a hum and gentle rub of his back. Pete was still mourning; and with an understanding of his feelings you would be able to help. Either way, you knew it would eventually be fine.

[call-sign-shark]

Can I request a Maverick fic inspired by the song “The Devil Doesn’t Bargain” where protective Mav makes reader see her boyfriend is awful and she is stronger than that and deserves better

✨ The Devil Doesn’t Bargain ✨

Oh my God I loved it so much, thank you for your request. I almost cried writing it. Platonic or not, the choice is yours. Depends if you need an older lover or a father figure soooo ~

Tags: Angst, mention of domestic abuse, Mav being your emotional support

Words: 1.5k

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It all started at the Hard Deck.

Penny had thrown a party to celebrate the success of the Uranium Mission. To please everyone, she allowed guests to bring their civilian significant other, which was what you did. Mav had barely laid his eyes on your boyfriend when he saw the red flags. Protective by nature -especially with you-, Captain Mitchell spent the rest of the evening observing you. To all appearances, you formed a casual couple but Mav knew the Devil always was in the details. He noticed you were quieter when your boyfriend was here. You, who were usually bubbly and joyful, would withdraw into silence each time your man spoke. There were also the looks he gave you when you did something he did not like. The kind of dark and harsh look that would kill you right on the spot if it could.

Mav tried wanted to warn you, but the man spent the party glued to you. Despite all of this, Captain Mitchell greeted you. When you saw him, a cheerful smile enlightened your lovely face. You started talking, your eyes sparkling with admiration and affection when looking at Maverick. It pissed your boyfriend so hard that he cut you in the middle of the sentence with condescending words: “No one cares about your opinion!” He had said, growing impatient. Maverick felt a burning anger blooming in his stomach. His traits, usually so soft when talking to you, turned into ice. Mav had stood fiercely, his blazing green eyes staring at your boyfriend. Mav’s presence was so impressive, that your boyfriend shut the hell up for the first time since he arrived at Penny’s party. It took all Captain Mitchell’s willpower not to punch him in the face in front, but God knew how he wished to destroy him.

After the party, Mav started being more aware: he would notice the slightest detail. Just like that one time when you picked up your phone and your smile faded away when you saw your boyfriend’s name on the screen. You picked up and when you came back in the hangar, your eyes were still clouded with tears.

Or that other time you almost had a panic attack in front of him because you noticed you would come home late. He had offered you a ride on his motorcycle but you refused - your boyfriend would kill you if he saw you with Mav.

Today he saw them.

The bruises.

Purple bruises, like paint stains on the delicate canvas of your skin. Mav had spotted them at the end of the training when you had rolled up one of your sleeves to massage your sore wrist. The sight felt like someone had punched him right in the guts. The Captain clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles whitened. His heart pounded in his chest, fueled by corrosive anger. It was too much for him to handle. He had to do something.

Today’s training is over and you are about to leave the hangar when Mav’s voice calls you. Anxious, you take a quick look at the watch on your wrist and raise your gaze to your instructor. He walks to you and stops only a few centimeters. Mav might not be the tallest guy on the base, but you feel like he is towering you anyway.

“Listen, I know it’s none of my business but it’s not worth it, darling.” He finally says, unable to hold it anymore. You look at him with furrowed brows.

“Excuse me, Sir?” You answer, slightly confused. Mav remains silent for a few seconds, his emerald eyes glimmering with worry.

“Your boyfriend… He hurts you. I don’t say that in a condescending tone, it’s just that- “ he pauses. Takes a deep breath and goes on, “I want what’s best for you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything is fine.” Words escape from your mouth, knocked out of your lips by surprise. You start to chew your nails nervously, avoiding Maverick’s eyes.

“Don’t lie to me Y/N. Please don’t. I know he’s abusive. Now I don’t mean to meddle but it has to stop. You are a sweet and clever girl, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

You stay silent, tears blurring your vision, and still not daring to look at him. Your lower lip starts to quiver, for it struggles to hold your sobs. It has been years and no one suspected anything. No one noticed what happened when the door was closed. Pete Maverick Mitchell, your instructor, is the first one.

“He’s not like that. He’s a good guy, he’s just having a rough time.”

“Hey, hey…” His voice is so soft, so full of tenderness that you gently dare look at him. Maverick’s heart breaks when he sees the pain in your eyes. Tears stream down your face.

He wants you to feel his skin against yours. To gently cup your beautiful face in his warm hands. To pull you in a soft, protective hug and never let you go - but he is too afraid to touch you. Afraid to hurt you. As if you would shatter at one simple brush from his fingertips.

“He’s gonna change. I can change him. ” Your voice breaks. If you keep talking you know you’ll burst into tears. You bring one trembling hand to your mouth and look down. Mav exhales slowly, trying to find the correct words not to hurt you more than you already are. He does not want to lecture you - he wants to help you free your wings from their chains.

“You can’t change him, darling. You think “this time will be the last; he’s truly sorry” but he is not. And deep down, you know it’s just a matter of time before he hurt you again. And blow by blow you lose your colorful feathers.”

Your legs are shaking, threatening you to collapse.

“Sir -“ You try to defend him but you cannot anymore.

“The Devil does not bargain, darling.” He says with a soft, soothing smile. Five words. It is all it takes to break years for abuses free. This time you burst into tears. Mav clenches his jaws, his heart sinking.

He gently open his arms to make you understand that you could hug him if you needed to. Even though he knows you might not want to feel a man’s touch. Yet, you take a step and, to his surprise, hug him tight, burying your face against his strong chest. You feel his muscular arms wrapping you and pressing your body against his. One of his large hands runs through your hair to pet you.

Melting into his embrace, you shake like a leaf and, when he notices it, Mav hugs you tighter to glue the shards of your shattered soul back together.

“ I tried to leave him, Mav. But I can’t! It’s just… so hard.” You stutter between two sobs. You did try, but you got used to the pain. Your whole being had been numbed for too many years, and now you were here, feeling constantly outside of your own skin. Outside your own body. All the blows, all the abuses, you watched yourself bearing them because that’s all life had taught you. That’s all you knew.

“ I know you don’t want to let go, but you deserve better.” He lays a gentle kiss on your forehead. You feel instantly better, “you deserve so much better. You deserve a man who will take care of you. I swear Y/N, you deserve to be loved. You deserve someone to help you clean your wounds and help you fly.” He backs off his head slightly, just to look at your adorable face. A shy and tiny smile stretches the corner of your quivering lips when your eyes met his - you feel like nothing can hurt you in Maverick’s arms. You feel …

Safe.

“But what if I'm not strong enough?"

He lets out a faint chuckle and tilts his head to the side, the green of his eyes lost in the Y/EC of yours, "Darling, look at you. You are one hell of a strong woman. And it is not due to your job as a pilot. You are strong because that's what your soul is. Trust me, there's a fierce flame burning within."

You take a deep breath: you had stopped shaking. Maverick's hand leaves your hair only to gently press it against one of your cheeks. You close your lids, tears forming crystal beads on your eyelashes. His touch makes you immediately stronger.

"You're right." You whisper. Maverick nods, proud of you, and takes a few steps back to release you from his protective arms.

"You're right." This time your tone is louder, fiercer.

The Devil does not bargain, but the Angel does not kneel.

Not anymore.

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Tagging: @malavera and @helloitstsyu because its Tom cruise content

[phantomtgm]

Phantom - Chapter Nineteen

Phantom’s P.O.V

Maverick effortlessly opened the door to his house while maintaining the heated makeout session we were currently having. Moans and gasps filled the entire room as we entered his bedroom.

We walked blindly towards the bed and as the back of my knees hit the bed, I allowed myself to fall back on it, taking Maverick with me. 

The alcohol had contained some of the nerves but not all of them. My entire body was shaking as he climbed on top of me, spreading my still clothed legs. I could feel every inch of him but I want him inside me.

He kissed me like I was air and as I reached to remove his shirt, Maverick hesitated. With my heart beating fast, I moved my hand from his hem line to his face. “What’s wrong?”

Pausing from what we were doing, he looked at me in the most loving way and it only made me want him more. He was hesitating so I rubbed my thumb on his face. 

“We should stop.” Not expecting that response, I pulled my hand back and said quietly “Why? I want to. If it’-” He interrupted me and cradled my head. His eyes went wide as he said “Oh believe me, I want to but I want to do this the right way.” He began sprinkling kisses down my throat and a tingling spread throughout my body. 

“When we both haven’t had something to drink.” Disappointment rang through my body but…also understanding. He was right, we shouldn’t have sex for the first time drunk off our asses so I sighed and attempted to relax. 

Being riled up was going to take a bit of time to relax and I think Maverick thought the same thing because he said “I think I’m going to take a cold shower.” I laughed as he awkwardly got off and stood. I could see the bulge in his pants from here and my cheeks heated. The fact that he got that worked up over me stirred a lot of feelings inside me.

“Be right back sweetheart.” Winking, I watched as he disappeared into the bathroom. Yawning, I turned on my side, not realizing how tired I was. As much as I wanted to be with him tonight, I could feel my eyes fall heavy and before I knew it, I fell asleep.

-

Maverick’s P.O.V

Shaking the towel over my wet hair, I walked out of the bathroom and saw Ava curled up on my bed, chest moving up and down. Walking towards the bed, I sat down. She had fallen asleep and I smiled to myself. After everything that had happened this past week, I was happy to see her sleeping peacefully. 

I knew I had disappointed her telling her we should stop but it was the right thing to do. I didn’t want to take advantage of her even though I know that’s not what she thought but…I wanted to do things differently with her. All of those other women that I had been with, well, I wasn’t exactly a gentleman so I wanted to do her right. 

Feeling the effect of the alcohol, I crawled into bed beside Ava, draping an arm around her waist and scooted her closer. Her heart beat matched mine. Slow and steady. I smiled to myself as I drifted off to a deep sleep.

-

Phantom’s P.O.V

I have been awake for two hours now, getting ready for another big day of training. Maverick made coffee and I slurped it down. I looked at the time as I tied my hair into a bun, eyes practically bugging out. 

I turned around, about to say goodbye when Maverick held a smirk. “What?!” I squeaked, earning a laugh from him. 

“Worried about being late?” I crossed my arms and gave him a look. 

Coming forward, he placed a kiss on my forehead and said “Don’t worry…I won’t pull you into my office.” Another wink later and the dizziness that occurred caused me to grip the counter in fear that I might actually fall down. 

I stood there for a moment getting my shit together then finally forced myself to move from my spot. I walked towards the door and the memory of last night popped into my brain. We almost had sex! 

The care that he showed me last night had me questioning my feelings. I had never felt that way with anyone before. If it had been any other guy, they would have taken that opportunity to get laid and the fact that Maverick didn’t…said a lot. I appreciated it and made me want him more. 

Maybe it had to do with his cock  and if that was the case then I totally wanted to ba- Opening the door and stuck in my dirty thoughts, I hadn’t been paying attention when walking outside because Rooster stood directly outside with a highly confused look on his face. 

“Ava? What are you doing here?” He asked, his eyes looking at me then to the inside of Maverick’s place. Connecting the dots, his eyes narrowed. 

“Well?” He asked and I froze.

Well, shit.

[sarahsmi13s]

|| Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell Masterlist ||

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

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

general taglist

series

sorry... none yet 😅

angst

sorry... none yet 😅

smut -- 18+ MDNI

sorry... none yet 😅

fluff

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

[tobytoobs]

I haven’t seen nearly enough fics of Maverick just grieving. I feel like it’s pushed aside so much and I just want a grieving, depressed Mav, Please, I need the threat of 86’ trying to comfort him. I want sad Mav.

[missathlete31]

Because I’m feeling Anti Rooster today lol 🙈 sorry fandom

Nowhere to Run Chapter 1

Once the Daggers are allowed to be a permanent squadron, Maverick expects everyone to want to join. When Cyclone tells him he has one hold out, Mav decides to question the lone pilot, leading to a confrontation of epic proportions.

The Dagger Squad will never be the same

(Aka Bradley probably shouldn’t have gone on the mission and Jake states why)

In hindsight, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell should have known this was going to end badly. It wasn't that he had gone into the hanger expecting such a confrontation but he should have known that cornering any pilot, especially Jake "Hangman" Seresin was a dangerous move. So dangerous in fact that he wondered if their Dagger Squad would ever recover.

It all started when the team was called back after their three week courtesy leave from the Navy. They were told to report to Top Gun where Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates met with each pilot and gave them the offer of joining the Daggers permanently. It seemed the Navy was impressed by what they were able to accomplish during the Uranium Mission and felt it was advantageous to keep this elite squad together. Maverick was overjoyed when he heard the news, it meant that Bradley would be stationed out of North Island, close to Maverick and Penny while also getting to stay with his friends. When Captain Mitchell was then offered to run the squadron (only in training, no more missions for him), the older man thought he couldn't be happier.

Maverick knew he shouldn't expect everyone to agree. These 12 pilots were the best of the best and had squadrons they trusted, postings they liked, or families that needed them elsewhere. He tried not to get his hopes up too much, chatting up Penny's ear whenever they had a private moment about how Payback might prefer a station closer to home, how Yale was always going to want to be on the East Coast, how Halo and Omaha might not have like flying together, how Pheonix and Bob might want to head to Lemoore, or any other excuse he could think of for each pilot. Penny would humor him each time with a patient smile that told him he was over thinking it and that he would just have to wait and see. Pete Mitchell hated waiting.

So when the day came and Simpson and Bates called him into their office, Maverick took a deep breath and waited to hear that the squadron wouldn't be happening. Too many no's, too many other squads or other plans or other choices. He was so ready to be turned down that Pete was shocked when Simpson began the meeting with a congratulations. So much so that the Captain missed most of everything else the Admiral was saying.

"-so the 11 will start and then when we find a replacement-"

Maverick zoned back in time to hear Simpson's last words, "wait" he held up a hand and tried not to smile as Beau rolled his eyes at being interrupted, "11? Who said no?"

"Lieutenant Seresin opted out of the squadron."

"Hangman? Really?" Pete couldn't contain his surprise. After the mission, after Hangman defied orders and saved Maverick and Rooster, everyone could see the way the man had changed. He was more open, less hostile, still cocky as anything but at a more accepting level. Hell Maverick was even growing rather fond of the kid. It stung a bit to think Seresin of all people would have declined working with them all. Though Maverick didn't know much about the Vigilantes, he assumed Hangman would have jumped at the opportunity to be a part of the best of the best. Pete tried not to show his disappointment, "So Seresin's going back to his old squadron then?" he questioned curiously.

"Actually" Bates drawled from the corner, "Lieutenant Seresin didn't request to go back to his squadron either."

Maverick's face turned quizzical, "so where does he want to go?"

The older of the Admirals shrugged, "he asked for a bit more time to think."

"Which is why" Simpson cut in, "we were hoping you could try talking to him."

"Me? Really?" at the flash of annoyance on his CO's face for yet another interruption, Mav gave an apologetic smile, "sorry Sir, but I mean, you think talking to me will help?"

"We are hoping he might be more forthcoming with you. It seems like the team as a whole has been much more receptive to each other since we've docked back in Miramar. If there is a hesitancy to get back in the cockpit, Seresin might find it easier to share with you than either I or Admiral Bates."

"You think he doesn't want to fly at all?"

"We're not sure" Cyclone motioned to the papers on his desk, "he passed his psych evaluation but we fear perhaps the mission was a bit more for him to work through than originally thought."

Bates nodded from the back, "And he did get another kill” the older man added solemnly, “that could be affecting him."

Maverick cursed himself for not noticing sooner. Taking a life, even in the armed services was a hard task, one that was also rare in their section of the Navy. Besides himself, Seresin was the only other active duty pilot with two to his name. While the psych evaluation was meant to look for any difficulty in the processing process, it wasn't foolproof. It could be very likely that Hangman was struggling with what he had to do in the air that day. If there was any doubt in his mind about his role or duty, as his CO and as someone that had grown to care for the man, Maverick knew he had to talk to him. "I'll talk to him this afternoon Sir" he offered Simpson.

"Good, let us know if you need anything on our end."

Maverick nodded, saluted them both and headed down to the hangars. When he arrived he was happy to see Hangman was the first to arrive, sitting in his usual seat in the front. Pete strolled down the aisle, trying to stay casual as he thought about the best way to start the conversation without seeming like a full fledged confrontation. As he got to his row, Jake looked over, offering a nod and a small greeting, "Sir" he acknowledged.

"Seresin" Mav answered back, "how you doing kid?"

The blonde shrugged, a look of suspicion in his green eyes, "fine Sir, you?"

"I'm alright-" Pete's voice died away in his indecision of how to broach the next subject. He knew the rest of the Daggers would be in any minute, so he had to ask fast, "Look Seresin, can we talk after the hops today?"

For once the blonde pilot refused to meet his eyes, instead looking nervously down at his hands,"Is something wrong?"

Pete leaned down on the desk, feeling like he was dwarfing the other pilot as Jake sank further in his chair, "I wanted to talk about you declining the Dagger squad. I was hoping we could discuss it together."

"With all due respect Sir" and Hangman was officially flushing in unease, "I made my decision on that matter."

Pete leaned back, surprised at the tone, "From what I hear from the Admirals," the captain broached delicately, "you seemed to make no decision. You don't want to join the squad but you don't want to go back to the Vigilantes either. Is it the flying Jake?" Maverick tried to move down to meet the man's eye a bit more, "are you nervous to fly another mission?"

"No" he shook his head, "I plan on going back to my old squad. I'm fine-"

"Jake" the other Daggers were filing into the hangar but Maverick didn't want to let the conversation stop right here. He knew it wasn't the smartest move but Maverick wasn't known for thinking things through, "don't you want to fly with your friends?" he continued to press, "Coyote? Omaha? Halo?"

"Of course I do."

Pete shook his head, not understanding, "Then why won't you join the Daggers?"

"It's because of you."

Of all the things Hangman had said in the weeks Maverick had known him (and it's been quite a bit from the talkative blonde), nothing had floored the seasoned pilot more than what he just uttered. He was so shocked he didn't even notice that the room had gone silent, the rest of the team catching the tail end of the discussion and was now listening with interest over the interaction. Pete cleared his throat, "I don't- what do you mean because of me? What did I do?"

"I don't trust your judgment Sir" and there were a few stunned gasps from the back of the room.

Mav ignored all the others, his eyes zeroing in on the pilot in the front row, "Is this because you were only the spare?"

Seresin moved his eyes to the floor, an obvious tell if Maverick ever saw one. When he didn't reply Maverick pushed again, "tell me that you aren't turning down an amazing opportunity because you're upset you weren't picked for the mission?"

"Wait, Bagman you're not joining the squad?" Phoenix asked in obvious surprise and then suddenly the room seemed to erupt with noise. Omaha was asking what the blonde was thinking, while Fanboy yelled about being a sore loser. Pete could see he was losing his moment, losing his chance to finally get into the infamous Hangman's head and see what the normally cocky Texan pilot was thinking. He raised a hand and looked to the rest of the room, "quiet" he ordered and everyone took their seats with closed mouths. "Jake" he turned back to Hangman, noticed the hitch in the man's shoulders, the way he was tapping his foot and playing with his fingers on the desk. "Let's go have this discussion in my office, okay? I'm fairly confident that if you really think about it, you'll see that being part of this squad would be the best place for you. I know that your ego was hurt not being picked but letting it ruin this chance for you-"

Green eyes flared up at him, an anger that he never saw in Hangman before appearing within them. "This isn't about my damn ego-"

"Jake" Coyote was standing up, the uncharacteristic display of emotions from his best friend making the other pilot instantly want to jump to his side, "we should go get some air. Sir, can you excuse us for a minute?"

"No" Jake rose too and flashed a look at Javy before motioning towards Machado's chair, "no, Javy sit, he wants this discussion then let's all have this discussion right?" He turned back to Maverick, a shark like smirk on his face, "you want to know the truth?"

"I do."

"Fine" the blonde slammed his hands down on the table dramatically, "You didn't pick me for the mission, fine. Did it sting? Yeah, it freaking did but you know I could have gotten past it if you had picked someone that deserved it instead of trying to use the spot to buy forgiveness."

At first the room was silent. Then as everyone processed Seresin’s words, the room seemed to explode again. It didn’t last long before a voice rang out louder and more pissed than them all combined. "Oh well fuck you Seresin-" Rooster began as he stood from his chair so quickly that it fell back behind him. The image of it all took Maverick's mind back to the eerily similar altercation during training. Except this time Hangman didn't look on smugly, he looked livid. "No" Jake turned around to face Bradley head on, "I'm getting this out Rooster so help me fucking God, so sit your ass down and shut the fuck up."

"I'm not going to let you talk about us like this" Bradley's brown eyes flared, no intention of backing down, "I'm not going to let you talk to Mav like this-"

"Then you can leave for all I care Bradshaw, if you're too cocky to listen-"

"Cocky ha!" Rooster looked around the room as though he was on a hidden camera show, "that's rich coming from you."

Jake shook his head like a disappointed parent, "you don’t get it."

“What don’t I get?” The other man egged on, his temper flaring, “that you’re still nursing your wounds from not being picked team leader or even a Dagger that you need to come in here and attack me and attack Maverick’s decision making?”

The blonde shook his head in exasperation, “you really don’t see it? How you should have never even been out there?”

“Screw you, I earned my place here!”

“No you were picked so Mav could win back your affections-“

Bradley looked murderous as he stared down Jake with visceral disgust, “Screw you, you asshole! Don’t even pretend to think you understand anything about our relationship!”

”You shouldn’t even have a relationship!” Hangman yelled back, his normally non-existent temper on full display now, “I’m sorry but there’s a reason that the Navy makes you disclose personal relationships with others especially your COs, to prevent conflicts of interest-“

”There was no conflict of interest!" Rooster yelled even louder, as though the higher the volume the more right he was in his convictions, "I was chosen because I did what needed to be done and got everyone home!”

”Is that really what you believe?” Jake asked despondently, “Jesus I always knew you were stubborn but I didn't think you were that oblivious. You need a wake-up call"

Rooster's eyes turned to slits, "I'll give you a fucking wake-up call-" he moved to take a step but Payback was holding his arm to keep him back. "Easy" the sidelined man urged but no one seemed to listen, their anger and emotions making them almost feral.

"Guys!" Phoenix was standing now too, looking to Maverick with a pleading expression for him to intervene. "Guys come on-"

"Yeah come on man," Billy called from the back, "let's all just take a minute-"

"No," Bradley brushed off Reuben's hand and moved to the aisle. He squared himself up facing Jake noticing both Coyote and Harvard moving to defend if necessary. Maverick though still stayed silent in the front of the room, whether shocked still or just watching how everything would proceed, no one could tell.

Hangman and Rooster locked eyes, inches apart. Bradley gave a sneer, "Okay I'll play along, let's let Hangman of all people tell me how I wasn't the right person to go on the mission. Go ahead."

"You were the only one who never made the time Rooster" Jake spoke viciously, his voice dangerously low.

"Excuse me?"

"You never made the course under the time. Not once in training-"

"I made it when it mattered!"

"Did you?" Hangman took a step back, "Maybe you don't remember but I sat on the carrier that day and listened to Payback and Fanboy beg you to speed up. Beg! And what did you do? You still slowed down!" The blonde walked away from the other pilot, pacing as he ranted to the shocked silent room, "You know what else I heard?" Jake continued, "Command, when they noticed that Payback had to rise up in the air to avoid hitting you. You know how close he was to hitting the SAMs threshold? Two feet. Two feet higher and we would have had two empty coffins to bury in the ground. No one talks about that huh? No one cares? Well I fucking care."

Before anyone could respond, Hangman turned swiftly back to his CO, Maverick shifting just the tiniest bit with unease when he was locked with devastating green eyes, "you asked us every damn day what would we tell our wingman's families" Jake reminded him, his voice sounding purely demoralized, "Well what would you have said to Payback's fiancé Jacqueline? Or Fanboy's parents Marco and Marcella? Hmm? That their fiancé and their son died because Rooster was having an existential crisis during a mission that he should have been disqualified for from the start? That he was chosen by the man that was the closest thing he had to a father growing up in a clear case of nepotism?"

Jake watched as Rooster instinctively turned to look at Payback and Fanboy, both looking pale as the truth came out. With the happiness of the mission being deemed a success no one talked about how close things came to falling apart. "You spent all of training convinced that your way was the right way Rooster, you didn't even listen to Mav-"

"And you did?" Rooster asked back incredulously, "you left everyone hanging- like you always do. Like you're known for. But I'm supposed to listen to you criticize me? You, the least team oriented man in the world?"

"I'm a lot of things and you can say what you want but I tried to do better. My last hop with Phoenix and Bob- we gelled perfectly, you all said it yourselves." Jake turned to the two other pilots, Phoenix watching him with wide eyes and a pained expression on her face, Bob with knowing eyes. "The two of you said it that last day too, 'It felt good, it felt right', you know you did, because we all listened to each other, we listened to Mav." Neither voiced an agreement but Jake just continued on with his argument, shifting to the back rows, "and Fritz with Payback and Fanboy, they were smooth and hit bull's-eye each time. They were the stronger team! Rooster was the only one who never had a successful run, who refused to even try to hit the time, who stubbornly insisted that going slower was fine."

"Fuck you-"

But Jake refused to stop now that he had gotten it going, "And how about the bombing? You didn't even give Fanboy a chance to lock on-"

"We had no time."

"You did" Hangman insisted, "It took Bob a few seconds too but Maverick waited. You didn't Rooster. You took the shot blind, a huge risk, all because you had no faith in Mickey."

Rooster's face blushed and he spun around to face the man in question, "That's not true" he told Fanboy but the man just stayed silent. Bradley turned back to Hangman, rage in his brown eyes, "I took the shot because the laser wasn't working. It wasn't Mickey's fault."

"I know it wasn't his fault."

"It wasn't my fault either asshole-"

“It could have been” Jake argued, “Rooster it was an almost impossible shot-“

“Yeah and I made it!”

”What if you didn’t? What if you going in blind, what if you not waiting, not giving Mickey a chance, meant the mission was a failure?” Hangman dropped his eyes to the floor, before he looked back at the others, “I know it wasn’t the case but does that mean we don’t talk about the risk he took out there? We don’t talk about all the ways it could have gone wrong?”

When no one replied, not in agreement or argument, Jake signed and turned back to Bradley. "How about coffin corner" the blonde edged, "was that your fault?"

Bradley paled, "what about it?"

"Dagger three and Dagger four came back with flares intact, you know why? Because you refused to even let them try to defend themselves-"

"I was protecting them you self righteous dick," he pushed into Jake's chest harshly but the other man held his ground, "I was protecting them like a good wingman does" Rooster pointed behind him, "like a teammate does. You wouldn't understand-"

Jake shook his head, "You're right I wouldn't have done what you did. I actually have faith in all the other pilots on this team. I wouldn't follow Phoenix's shadow or Payback's wing unless they called for me, unless they needed it, because every pilot in this room is the best of the best and knows how to evade. But not you Rooster, you didn't even try to get out of there, you put yourself and your team in more danger trying to cover them all and then when you really needed it, you had no flares for yourself. You forced Maverick to risk himself to save you. He was too compromised not to."

The room was deathly silent.

"And then you went back against orders, because you were too compromised to listen. You both should have never been allowed to serve together. You both could have died a million different ways. You both could have caused the deaths of other pilots on the squad as well." Hangman shifted, the last part of his argument directed right to Maverick who's green eyes looked sad at the way the conversation had turned. "So that's why I don't trust your judgment Sir," Jake began sadly, "I'm sorry but I can't."

"Seresin-"

"And the worst part" and somehow, embarrassingly, Jake realized that he had started to cry during his ranting. He wiped at his greens eyes stubbornly, "the worst part is that I want to be on this squad so badly, I want this team." He shook his head, "but I can't, it already compromised me as well.”

"When you flew out against orders" Maverick supplied gently. The blonde nodded, swallowing roughly, "I can't have that. I can't. I can't get attached to you all and then almost lose you. I can't have your relationship with Rooster mean I have to bury a friend. I need to be detached, I need separation-"

"Jake-"

But the blonde was done listening, all his fight was gone. "I don't belong here" he told the group, "and you don't want me anyway. Let me be Hangman, let me be the one man squad, it's better this way." He picked up his things from his desk and moved forward. Rooster, the only one still in the aisle, stared him down before moving to his left allowing the other to pass. Jake, for just the briefest moment thought someone would speak up, someone would stop him but they didn’t. Instead Hangman continued his walk out of the hangar as he left the best team he ever was a part of, the best chance he ever had at a family, behind.

[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

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@alexxavicry

@army24--7

@thefandomimagines

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

@hermaeusmorax

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@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Schedule for the Week of 07/01/2024 to 07/06/2024

Hiya lovelies! If you can’t tell, updates are going to be a little sporadic over the summer. Here's what we've got coming this week!

07/03/2024 - WEDNESDAY - A New Maverick Oneshot

Tagging some lovelies for awareness: @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @blue-aconite @chaoticassidy @kmc1989

[thewulf]

Hi I requested the Maverick x shy reader and I was thinking more of teacher Mav x Student, like maybe during the mission of tpg.m but whatever scenario choose I’ll love.

Thank you

Yay perfect! I was kinda hoping you'd say that dynamic. It's fun to write bridging the age gap?? Idk it doesn't feel creepy/weird bc reader would have to be in their late 20's early 30's to be in TG just by basis of ranking up through the Navy.

I'll try and get it out this week :)

[topgun-imagines]

Day 19: Bottom Of The Bottle

Pairings: Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x fem!reader

Synopsis: You being to question yours and Maverick relationship when he develops a drinking problem.

Warnings: alcoholism, break-ups, mentions of hospitals, family issues, alcohol abuse, arguments & relationship issues.

Word count: 1.2k

Maverick was the love of your life. You believed that with every fibre of your being. The two of you were a match made in heaven. Everyone around you was convinced that there was never a more perfect pair than you and the pilot. He was your soulmate. Even through all the trials and tribulations that you had been through, the two of you remained as close as ever. However, you knew there were parts of his past that he wasn’t sharing with you.

Occasionally, Maverick would become distant. And while logically you knew that he had a good reason, your mind couldn’t help but play tricks on you. You rarely discussed issues from Maverick’s past. Any time you would try to bring it up, he would change the subject almost immediately. It wasn’t until two and a half years into your relationship that you noticed his frightening coping mechanisms.

At first, you thought that it was just an occasional drink after work. Soon enough, it turned into something so much worse than you ever could have imagined. All that you knew about the situation was that something was going on with Maverick’s mother. You knew very little about the woman, only hearing bits and pieces from Goose and Carole every once in a while. While you respected the fact that your boyfriend liked to keep some things a secret, part of you wished that he would open up to you more.

When his drinking had reached the point that it was severely concerning, you went to the first person you thought of; Goose. The RIO had told you everything that he knew which, albeit, wasn’t very much. All he knew was that his mother was in the hospital again. For what exactly, he couldn’t tell you.

You accepted that as reason enough for Maverick’s recent changes. That was until one drink after work became three. Then three became more than you could count. He would show up on your porch in the middle of the night, blabbering about something you couldn’t understand. In the morning, the pilot would act as if nothing ever happened; waking before sunrise and walking back to the bar to pick up his bike. After about a week of this new coping mechanism, you decided that enough was enough.

After talking to Goose, you decided that it was time to confront Maverick. At first, the pilot had tried to pretend that there was nothing wrong with him. Things had gotten ugly fast when you accused him of not being able to see the truth. When you mentioned what Goose had told you, Maverick was pissed. He was seeing red at the thought of his best friend betraying him like that. That night had ended with him storming out of your shared home.

Things only got worse from there. It took almost two weeks for Maverick to return to staying at your shared home. Even when he returned home, however, he was still distancing himself from you. You could tell that he still hadn’t forgiven you for things that had been said during that argument. Even though he was home now, it still felt like he was living miles away from you. There were no more shared dinners, no more rides to work together, and no more sweet words. Only harsh glares and cold silence.

The argument worked, at least for a while. As far as you knew, Maverick was no longer drinking to the point where he couldn’t remember anything the following day. According to Goose, he hadn’t even been to the bar in the past two weeks. Everything slowly seemed to be returning to normal. All except for the fact that your boyfriend was ignoring your existence.

Maverick’s break from drinking only lasted a few weeks. Before you knew it, he was back in the bar. This time, however, an argument wasn’t going to cut it. You hated the fact that you had no idea what was going on in your boyfriend’s life anymore. When it first began, you could tolerate it, hoping that it would blow over soon enough. But when it never blew over, you began to question if it was still worth it.

Of course, you loved Maverick with all your heart. But was this relationship really worth it? When you were younger, you had always pictured being with the love of your life. The sweet things he would do and the lovely connection that the two of you would have. That’s what you and Maverick were in the beginning. Now, the two of you weren’t even a semblance of the people you once were.

So, you decided that enough was enough. You knew what you wanted for your life and even if you didn’t want to admit it, deep down you knew that Maverick wasn’t the person for you anymore. If you were being honest with yourself, you had known that ever since his drinking problem began. You just didn’t want to leave him when you knew that he needed a support system. Now, you just couldn’t be that support system anymore.

These days, if Maverick wasn’t at the bar, he was crashing at Goose’s house. So, that was where you went. You found the pair sitting in the backyard, both nursing a beer. While Goose didn’t encourage Maverick’s drinking problem, he sure didn’t look like he was actively trying to help the situation either. Standing in the door frame, you called your boyfriend’s name firmly.

With a slight roll of his eyes, Maverick followed you into Goose’s house. The RIO remained in the backyard, ready to tune out the sound of your screams. At this point, Nick wouldn’t even blame you for leaving Maverick. He would still be there for the pilot. You needed to do what was best for you.

“Alright,” You started, voice firm as you tried to stop it from wavering. “You need to talk to me.” Sure, you were understanding about the fact that Maverick needed his space. But it was well past time for that. Maverick needed to tell you what was going on. It was now or never.

The only response you received from the pilot was a steady shake of his head. “No.” His tone left nearly no room for argument. But at this point, you didn’t care if he wanted an argument or not.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Regardless of how much you loved him, you couldn’t stay if it was going to be like this. “You’re either going to tell me what the fuck is going on,” You paused, hoping the message would sink in for him. “Or I’m going to walk out that door.”

Maverick remained silent. No matter how much you prepared yourself for actually having to walk away from him, you weren’t at all ready for him to let you go. When he didn’t say anything and didn’t even try to stop you when you turned around, you knew you had to leave. So that was what you did. Your stomach had dropped at the realization that you and Maverick were over. Weeks ago. You had been convinced that he was the love of your life. Now, you didn’t even recognize him.

The slam of the heavy door behind you plunged the dark house into silence.

a/n: hope you enjoyed! Join the taglist!

Tagging: @ohtobeleah @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @els-marvelvsp @kmc1989 @nyx2021 @mploopssek @callsignharper @seitmai @scarletmeii @inkandarsenic @alexandra-001 @plaguedzombie

[jaidens]

And Maybe I Don't Quite Know What To Say But I'm Here In Your Doorway

pairing [s] : pete mitchell x fem!reader

warning [s] : | mentions of goose’s death | petes drunk | crying | angst + comfort | pete decided to drink to block out his feelings |

a/n [s] : requests are open.

Pete was numb.

Numb was the only way to describe him, he was forcefully having to set his feet on land whenever he yearned for the sky. He put his entire life towards this and he was grounded at the loss of his best friend and only family Goose, better known as Nick Bradshaw. It was adjourned to not be Pete’s fault, but inherently he knew it was. He was the one supposed to keep his R.I.O safe as the pilot and he failed at just that.

Then, his relationship with his lovely fiancee went to hell.

Pete began to drink to push out the feelings. The Navy had offered a paid therapist, but he said no, and went to other things to cover up his feelings. You wanted to help him so badly, you begged him to let you in and let you help. he argued with you, telling how useless it was to attempt to help him when he deserved nothing. Then, you left. You took your bag and angrily moved away to your Mom's house.

Pete was left with himself: alone and absolutely terrified. He cried every night, gripping onto your pillow in his arms and then the picture of Nick on his bedside table would stare at him back. Everything felt like his fault and his carelessness for people he cared about. He gathered himself up whenever he was invited to fly once more, and attempted to get his head back in the game.

His drinking had gotten better and the bags under his eyes had lightened up eventually. Next, he had to gather his courage to see you. The flowers and your favorite candy was in the seat next to him, and it was a reminder of what he had done to you many months ago. The neighborhood is familiar and he remembers it from whenever he met your parents.

His stomach is weighing heavily inside, he can't tell if it's butterflies about seeing you or the feeling of him about to throw up. He sees your Mother’s house and pulls out in front and parks. Pete takes a moment in his car and breathes and grabs the flowers in one shaky hand and your favorite candy in the other; maybe even more shaky hand.

Pete is shaking and his heart is beating in his throat as he walks to the front door of your Mom's house. He knocks on the door and he hears your parents dog’s barking loudly at the door. He hears that voice he loves the most telling them to be quiet as you open the door and you immediately go to shut it, but his boot slams in and stops you from closing it.

“Please,” He cries out your name. “Can we talk please?” He begs and you open the door slowly, letting your head poke out. “You have two minutes.” Pete gives you a small smile and loosens out his nerves by shaking his shoulders. You're in front of him, you and all of your beautiful glory, staring at him with a relaxed frown.

“I messed up, I really messed up. I never wanted to lose you, especially after already losing Goose. You're the best thing I've had in my life, and losing you was one of the worst things. I have always loved you and I stayed loving you no matter what happened. I'm really, really sorry. Will you take me back?” You stared at him. Your eyes stay on his as you stare him up and down before looking at the Welcome Home rug on the floor.

“Okay.” Is all you say to him. “Okay?” Pete copies you and stares at you. “Okay, I'll take you back.” Pete feels better than four hundred wins and flights, he's won back everything hes ever wanted. “Now give me my candy.” You give him that smile and hold your hand out, and Pete takes it as an invitation to come inside.

He's won you back, which is one thing he had crossed off his lists of amends. And, it's one of the best things he's ever done in his life.

[warnersister]

Personal Space

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x reader

Summary: you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space.

Pt. 2

You never understood why Bradley stuck around. Since the academy you’d preferred to stick to yourself; get your head down and get the job done. Especially with a surname like Mitchell. You didn’t want your father and grandfather’s reputation to negatively proceed you, and by the time people had put two and two together as to whom loins you came from: you’d made your own reputation so Maverick never made much of a difference to it.

But still, having dinner in the mess you’d sat down, when someone came and thudded down next to you and began eating themselves. “I’m Bradley” he said when you finally looked up at him. You raised a brow “Bradshaw?” You ask and he nods: you recognise him from the photos your dad pinned up in your two’s hanger. You hum “and you are?” He asks “not important.” You reply, deciding you’d lost your appetite and stood to clear your plate “good talk!” Bradley said, but you were already walking away.

He’d next encountered you when you were running around the academy, early morning; before any naval training would take place. He hummed and decided it was perfectly acceptable to interrupt your jaunt with his presence. “Hey! Up so early?” He asks as he tries to match your pace from a standstill “could ask you the same.” You reply bluntly “well I wanted to get a run in before-” “well there’s your answer.” You reply, cutting him off. “You run really quick.” He says as you try to keep your pace increasing to shake him off “goodbye, Bradshaw.” You say, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and taking off at a pace he couldn’t sustain. He just stops and shakes his head smiling, you were funny.

Eventually, you’d both gotten up in the air and were quick to earn your callsigns “Rooster” and “Hen”. Bradley earned his because he was up before the chickens, you’d earned yours because the chicken kept fucking following you around like you were his mother. You were sat on the aircraft carrier, your trainee group learning how to land on a ship deck and you’d finally gotten a moment of peace that evening. You sat on the edge of the deck, feet dangling over the edge as you watched the sunset, not moving when you hear someone slip into the space between the barriers beside you.

“Oh look my chick is back.” You mumble sarcastically and Bradley laughs loudly at you. “You love me really” he says, looking at you as if he wanted to you agree with him “you seem to keep telling yourself that, don’t you?” You hum, turning to watch the sea lap against the grey metal. You can feel him fidgeting beside you, as if antsy to say something. “What?” You ask, finally turning to look at him. “What?” He repeats, looking at you with raised brows “you want to ask me something. You’re fidgeting.” You point out “so ask me or fuck off” you say, turning away again. “Your last name is Mitchell” he says and you roll your eyes “you can read and hear. Two things I’ve learnt today.” You huff, again, with sarcasm. “Are you related to Pete Mitchell?” He asks, looking at you and nearly holding his breath “you finally put two and two together?” You ask and he lets out the breath.

“Yeah, he’s my dad.” You say after a while “I was a whoopsie baby my mother didn’t want anything to do with” you tell him. “He used to fly with my dad.” Bradley almost whispers, voice just a few octaves above. “I know” you nod “he’s practically wallpapered all over our hanger.” You say “so are you” you eye him. “He pulled my papers” he says, again after a few moments of silence “I know” you say “do you know why?” He asks “yes.” You reply, and he could tell you weren’t going to elaborate. “Y’know I’m not a fan of your dad, but I really like you.” He says and you just look at him with a blank face. “Yup” you hum to yourself and he raises a brow “just as Mother Goose was described” you say, and Bradley’s face immediately lights up with a huge grin, stretching and arm around you and pulling you into his side.

“Get off me.” “Yup, yep, sorry.”

For your first deployment, the academy set it up that you’d at least be with one person from your training squadron, and today the list of names were coming out; they were scribbled on the back of a napkin and pinned to a notice board.

“1. Haywood & Solomons, 2. Hughes & Shelley & Omaha, 3. Cooper & Parker & Cromwell & Smith, 4. Bradshaw,” you crossed your fingers as someone read out the names, then yours was read alongside Bradley’s “oh for god’s sake” you grumble, turning to see Bradley practically jumping for joy. “This is great! Me and you, Hen!” Rooster cheers and you just stare at him “should’ve called you leech cause you’re acting like one. Calm down.” You instruct and he tries to chill out, but the cheeky smile on his face was indiminishagble.

He only became more unbearable then, with you every working hour, your wingman on the missions you’d fly, inseparable despite your complaints. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Hawk asked you, as he came to sit with you for lunch. You shush him loudly. “Woah woah I only asked where he was.” “Speak his name and he shows up. I’m trying to hide.” you say in a hushed voice “plus he isn’t my boyfriend” “sure” he scoffs but the daggers being shot into his head silenced him easily.

“Hey Hen! Hawk” Bradley greets as he sits down. You grunt and point an accusatory finger at Hawk “this is your fault, jackass” you say and he laughs at you, him and Bradley engage in conversation as you just eat, having learnt the skill of drowning him out. “What about you, Hen?” Hawk asked, drawing your attention away from your plate and up to the two men alongside you, you raise an eyebrow - letting them know you were insinuating that you weren’t listening to their conversation.

“Do you want a family?” He ask and you just nod “really?” Hawk asks “that’s cute, didn’t take you for a family gal” he jokes and you harshly kick his leg under the table “kids and everything?” He asks after the pain subsides. “Yup.” You say and Bradley hums “I didn’t know that” he says and you just look at him “you never asked.” You reply simply, and that was true: he hadn’t. He was quite prepared to spend the rest of existence chasing after you, whether that meant giving you your first kiss on your deathbeds.

The two of you even went to Top Gun together, training to be the finest naval aviators of them all. And boy, you two fought to be the best; tongue and teeth, blood sweat and tears, everything. The decision came down to one final dogfight. “May the best aviator win” Rooster jokes, sticking out a hand to you. You eye it and internally question if you were insane, before leaning up to peck his cheek. “Prepare to loose, chicken.” You say, leaving him frozen in his place while you head to your plane. That day, Bradley was seriously off his A-game, and you came out on top.

A Mitchell finally Top Gun.

“Congratulations!” Bradley says excitedly on graduation day when you victoriously lifted the trophy above your head. You turned to him and he leant down slightly - you weren’t stupid, you knew what he was intending to do. “Thank you, Brad.” You say, turning to walk over to where your father was stood - knowing that was probably the only time Bradley wouldn’t follow you. That was the first time you’d ever called him anything short of Bradley Bradshaw.

“I’m so proud of you honey” your dad says, hugging you tightly and you embrace him back, smiling widely “thank you, dad” you respond and he looks behind you where Bradley was stood a while back, watching the ordeal. “Is that-” “yes” you tell him and your dad just looks at you “I wouldn’t get all teary he follows me like a lost puppy” you grumble but he just grins “he’s a good kid, hon.” He says and you shake your head “he’s definitely something”

“So how does their relationship work?” Bob asks Hangman, watching Bradley talk your ear off and you just staring ahead into space, blankly. “You see Bobby my boy,” Jake begins “Hen loves her personal space” Bob nods “Rooster also loves Hen’s personal space.” Bob nods again, now understanding. “Haven’t they done everything together though?” He asks “I think it’s more the fact that Hen does something and Rooster just kinda goes with it” Phoenix said and Bob hums, as Bradley continues to converse one-sidedly with you.

“He means well” you hear from beside you as you stare out from the hanger, turning to see your honorary uncle Tom walking towards you, you run towards him as he embraces you tightly “hey Ice” you smile, sweetly. “Hey sweetheart” he croaks. “I mean what I said.” He states and you raise a brow “he means well” he nods towards the man doing his required push ups on the ground with Hondo. “I know, Ice.” You tell him. “No, I don’t think you do” he hums and you raise your eyebrows at him. “The kids in love with you. You’ve either got to let him in or tell him to get out.” He says, “you’re living together for goodness sake”. “It was cheaper” you argue “we both know the accommodation is subsidised.” He states, matter-of-factly, patting your shoulder as he turns to go talk to your dad when he walks into the room.

It was true, you and Bradley were sharing accommodation. “Hey Hen, they’ve offered us shared accommodation back in Miramar” Bradley says, coming over with a pamphlet. “Why?” You ask, taking it out of his hands. ‘Married couple accommodation’ it states and you raise your brows “you getting ahead of yourself, Bradshaw?” You ask and he shakes his head “the guy assumed our callsigns were cause we’re a couple” he tells you and you just hum. “Well I’d rather stay there than in an apartment.” You say simply, giving him back the leaflet and refocusing on the plane you were working on repairing. “Seriously?” He asks, voice overly hopeful. You look at him and shrug “just go get the damn house, Bradshaw. Before I change my mind!” You say and he grins, turning and breaking out into almost a jog to head to confirm your living situation.

You take a moment of hesitation, before loudly groaning and heading out onto the tarmac, getting down and doing push ups alongside Rooster. He turns his head and looks at you and you just raise your brows at him. “Hey honey” he grins “hello Bradley” he nudges your hip with his own. “I’ll drive us home.” You tell him, and he raises his eyebrows “Home?” He asks and you huff “okay, Bradley I will drive the two of us back to our shared accommodation that we accidentally got given.” You say and he laughs loudly “home sounded better.”

Then after the mission, the whole Dagger squad got permanently stationed in San Diego, other than deployment, so they urged the new additions to the base to buy their own properties closer to base rather than on it. You and Bradley were sat in the Hard Deck, a long time before it was open, the rest of the Daggers spending time on the beach while the two of you were scouring Bradley’s laptop for a property. Well, Bradley was.

How about this one? He turns his screen to you. You shake your head “I want grass in the garden. I want to plant flowers” you say as you point at the paved back of the house, explaining that it’s a waste of money to have it ripped out. Bradley nods “Mkay, garden” he says, moving back to look again.

“How about this one? Beach front, close to the running track for you. Only a walk from the Hard Deck. White picket fence, really” he hums, turning the laptop again “garden?” You ask and he nods “garden.” He nods with a grin. “Shall we go look?” You ask and he raises a brow at you. “You said it’s a walk from the hard deck. Let’s go.” You say, putting the address into your phone and immediately recognising the street name, Bradley quickly falling into step with you as you walk towards the property.

You look at it and place your hands on your hips. Bradley was right. Pretty damn perfect. “Can I help you?” A lady asks, walking outside of the house, clipboard in hand. “Oh no, we’d just seen this property online and wanted to take a look.” Bradley tells her. “Well I’ve had a no-show on a viewing. How’d you like to take a look?” She suggests, motioning to the open door. “Okay” you nod, following her into the house.

“Obviously the kitchen, living room, even a deck out back with a huge garden and high fences” she says nodding out the window and you hum. “Out the side there’s an entrance straight to the beach” she motions, then starts heading up the stairs “three bedrooms, attic space, bathroom” she says “I’m guessing it’s just you two at the moment?” She asks “oh we’re not-” Bradley begins “yes, just us.” You confirm, shutting him up. “Okay, so there’s a large room for your bed and then if any new additions are to join, you have the space for them” she smiles and leads you back out front.

“It’s not cheap, it’s California. So I understand if you’re not prepared to pay that much money, do you mind me asking what you do?” She asks “we’re naval aviators.” Bradley says “stationed here?” She asks and you both nod “ah! I get why you’re looking for a property here!” She says and Bradley looks at you. “I really like it, Roo.” You say, and Bradley has to stop his jaw hitting the floor at your nickname. “It’s your call, honey” he says and you look at the lady and smile as she offers her hand “we’ll take it.”

“How shall we split the payment?” You ask Bradley as you walk back to the Hard Deck after organising a meeting with the realtor to actually finalise all the kinks and bumps. “I don’t mind doing the down payment then we’ll take it in turn paying the loan” he suggests “we can get a joint bank account and do it that way” you say and he agrees as you settle back into your seats at the Hard Deck. “Where’ve you two been?” Hangman asks “we bought a house.”

One evening, after you were all moved in and were hanging out at the Hard Deck after a long day or routine flying, you were sat outside with Rooster; watching the sunset. “When are we getting married then?” You ask and he spits out his beer “what?” He asks, eyes wide and getting progressively more giddy. “Well we live together, we have a joint bank account, and Jake keeps telling me we’re practically married. So when are we getting married?” You ask as he hugs you tightly “whenever you want, baby” he says, kissing the top of your head and pulling a ring out of his pocket to get on his knee. “Will you marry me?” He asks and you raise a brow “didn’t I just say that?” You ask bluntly “just say yes, please” he begs and you nod “yes. Yes I will marry you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You confirm as he kisses your lips gently.

“Okay get off of me now.”

Pt. 2