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unbuttonedown · 2 months ago

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Fault Lines / Chapter 3

Pairing: Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x Wife!reader (Mitchell!reader)

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Consensual, legal age-gap relationship; Estranged Father/Daughter relationship (Maverick & Reader); Named Simpson!OC child; Angst; Pregnancy; No Beta Reader

Synopsis: After the successful Dagger Squad mission, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell returns home — only to be blindsided by the revelation that his estranged daughter is married to Vice Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson. Maverick is forced to confront the years he lost and the family he never knew existed. Tensions rise between the two men as Maverick struggles to find his place in a life that has moved on without him, leaving the question — can broken bonds ever truly be repaired?

previous chapter / next chapter

Beau wasn’t surprised when Maverick strolled into his office a few days later unannounced.

He was, however, annoyed.

The door had barely shut behind Maverick before Beau’s eyes lifted from the paperwork in front of him. He set his pen down deliberately, leveling the captain with a calm but firm stare. “What can I do for you, Mitchell?”

Maverick hesitated for only a second before stepping forward. His usual cocky ease was absent, replaced with something heavier — something more serious.

“I want to make things right.”

Beau leaned back slightly, clasping his hands in front of him. “With?”

Maverick exhaled. “With her. With your family.” His voice was steady, but there was something vulnerable beneath it. “I want to be in your lives.”

Beau studied him, his expression unreadable. “You want.”

Maverick frowned slightly. “Yes.”

Beau inhaled slowly, considering his next words. “And where was that want for the last decade?”

Maverick tensed but didn’t look away. “I made mistakes. I know that. I told myself I was doing what was best for her, but… I see now that I was just running. Avoiding the hard parts instead of pushing through them.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Beau was quiet for a moment, his fingers pressing together as he watched Maverick.

“You’ve had years to come to this realization,” he finally said. “What changed?”

Maverick exhaled. “I saw her.” His jaw tensed. “I saw you with her. I saw the life she built, the family she has. And I realized just how much of it I’ve missed.” His voice was quieter now. “How much of her I’ve missed.”

Beau’s face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes.

Maverick took a step closer, bracing his hands on the back of the chair in front of Beau’s desk. “Look, I know I don’t deserve an easy way back in. I know I don’t have the right to demand anything. But I want a chance.” His voice was firm, almost pleading. “I want to be there for her now. And for my grandkids.”

Beau inhaled slowly, letting the words settle. His next question was measured, pointed.

“And if she doesn’t want you there?”

Maverick stilled.

It was a fair question.

He let out a slow breath. “Then I’ll respect that.” He looked Beau in the eye. “But I need her to be the one to tell me that.”

Beau didn’t respond immediately. His gaze was steady, sharp, calculating. Weighing every word, every intention.

Finally, he leaned forward slightly. “You need to understand something, Mitchell.” His voice was low, deliberate. “I’ve spent the last several years cleaning up the mess you left behind.”

Maverick’s throat tightened, but he said nothing.

“I held her when she cried,” Beau continued. “I listened when she told me how much it hurt to be let down over and over again. I watched her build walls to keep from feeling that pain again.” His voice was like steel now. “So if you think for one second that I’m going to let you walk in and risk breaking her heart all over again, you’re dead wrong.”

Maverick exhaled sharply. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

Maverick’s jaw tightened. “I’m trying to be her father.”

Beau let that sit between them, the weight of it heavy in the air.

Then, finally, he sat back. “That’s up to her.”

Maverick nodded. “I know.”

Beau studied him a beat longer before exhaling, shaking his head. “I don’t trust you.”

Maverick swallowed but nodded again. “I know.”

Beau’s lips pressed into a thin line. “But I trust her.”

Maverick’s breath hitched slightly.

Beau leaned forward, his gaze hard. “So if she decides to give you a chance, if she decides you can be in our lives… you don’t get to leave again.”

Maverick’s throat tightened. “I won’t.”

Beau held his gaze for a long moment, searching for any sign of uncertainty, any hesitation. He found none.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head again. “Jesus.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “She is gonna kill me for even entertaining this.”

Maverick huffed a quiet, almost relieved laugh. “Can’t say I blame her.”

Beau sighed, rubbing his templed. Then, with an exhausted shake of his head, he gestured toward the door. “Go home, Mitchell.”

Maverick hesitated. “So…?”

Beau leveled him with one last look. “I’ll talk to her.”

Maverick’s shoulders sagged slightly, nodding. “Thank you.”

Beau just shook his head, muttering under his breath as Maverick turned and left his office.

He had no idea how you were going to take this.

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the kitchen as you stirred the sauce simmering on the stove, your other hand absentmindedly rubbing at your lower back. Stella was sitting at the counter, swinging her feet and snacking on a piece of bread while coloring in one of her books. You were tired — pregnancy fatigue was hitting you hard today — but cooking helped clear your mind, and after the whirlwind of emotions from the past few days, you needed something to ground you.

You heard the front door open and close, followed by the familiar sound of Beau setting his bag and keys down.

“Daddy!” Stella hopped down from her stool and ran to him.

Beau smiled, scooping her up easily. “Hey, buddy.” He kissed the top of her head, walking back towards the kitchen before setting her down. “You help your mom with dinner?”

“She let me stir the noodles!”

Beau chucked. “Sounds like very important work.”

You turned, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Hey, you.”

His eyes meet yours, and for the briefest moment, there was something there — something in the way he was looking at you. But before you could dwell on it, he crossed the room and kissed your forehead. “Smells good in here.”

You studied him as he moved to wash his hands. There was something off — something in his posture, the slight tension in his shoulders. But Stella was still bouncing around, excitedly telling him about her day, so you let it go for now.

Dinner passed as usual, filled with Stella’s chatter and Beau’s occasional amused interjections. But every so often, you’d catch him looking at you like he had something to say — something he was holding back.

Later that night, once Stella had been tucked into bed and the house had settled into quiet, you found him in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hair still wet from his shower.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

Beau exhaled, running a hand over his face before looking up at you. “He came to see me today.”

You didn’t have to ask who he was.

Your stomach dropped slightly, and you stepped further into the room to stand in front of him. “What did he say?”

Beau hesitate, like he was carefully choosing his words. “He wants to make things right.”

You let out a slow breath, sitting down next to him. “And what did you say?”

Beau’s jaw tensed. “I told him that’s up to you.”

He rubbed his hand down his face before finally meeting your gaze.

He exhaled, rubbing his hands together. “So it’s actually happening. How do you want to do this?”

You swallowed, your hands falling to rest on your hips. “I’ll call him.” Saying it out loud made it feel real — more real than it had been in your mind the last few days. “Set up a time to meet. Somewhere neutral. Without Stella.”

Beau nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “I think that’s a good call.”

You glanced at him. “You don’t have to like this.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s not about what I like.” His hands found yours, pulling you in to stand in the space between his legs, his thumbs brushing over your skin. “It’s about you. And if this is really what you want — if you’re ready for it — then I’m going to stand beside you.”

Your throat tightened, and you squeezed his hand. “Thank you.” You managed to whisper.

He brought your hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Do you want me to be there?”

You hesitated, thinking. “Not the first time.” You inhaled deeply. “I think I need to face him on my own.”

Beau studied you for a long moment before nodding. “Okay.” He ran a hand down his face, sighing. “Jesus. If you’d told me a week ago that I’d be sitting here talking about setting up a reunion with him, I’d have thought you lost it.”

You let out a quiet, breathy laugh. “Yeah, well. A week ago, I didn’t think I’d be considering it either.”

Beau shook his head, his hands settling on your hips. “As long as you know that if he hurts you, I’m going to throw him into the ocean.”

You smirked, your hands coming up to cup his face. “Noted.”

But as the room settled into silence, your mind kept racing. The decision had been made — there was no point in dragging your feet. Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached for your phone, found the number that had sat untouched in your contact list for years, and hit call.

It rang three times before going to voicemail. You let out a slow breath as you sat down on the bed, steeling yourself.

“Hey… it’s me.” You hesitated for only a second, reaching out for Beau’s hand again, before continuing. “I think we should talk… Just us. Call me back when you get this.”

You ended the call and set the phone down, staring at it like it might suddenly come to life.

Beau squeezed your hand, grounding you. “You did it.”

You exhaled, feeling the weight of it settle over you. “Yeah.” You glanced at him, searching his steady gaze. “Now we wait.”

#fault lines #beau “cyclone” simpson x reader #beau “cyclone” simpson x you #pete maverick mitchell #pete “maverick” mitchell #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #top gun: maverick #beau cyclone simpson x reader #beau cyclone simpson x you #my writing

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sarahsmi13s · 1 year ago

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Rocks Are Allowed to Crack, Stars Are Allowed to Dim

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x fem!pilot!reader

characters: jake seresin, y/n nivans, the daggers, pete mitchell, penny benjamin, diego and benny harding (oc father and son)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, language, ptsd, description of accident, panic attack, injuries, descriptions of scars, flashbacks, fear of death, familial death (mentioned), crying, bottling up feelings, please please let me know if i missed any

word count: ~8.0k

a/n: this has been sitting in my docs and on my wheel for at least a year (please forgive the awkward moments). so i figured i'd take a sliver of the wheel and make him a little lighter! i've also been in a funk lately, so i thought getting something out there might help!

quick summary: everyone deserves someone to comfort them in their time of need, even the ones that always lend their shoulder

Ah, yes, dogfight football. Maverick’s way of creating a team. You play offense and defense at the same time. Tackling each other into the sand, sometimes into the water. It may be chaotic, but it’s fun and a great team building exercise.

Which is why you hated that you were running a little behind.

You sighed as you got out of your car and walked over to where Penny was sitting at the table.

You placed your aviators on your head, “I’m not late am I?” Penny chuckled and shook her head, “Just in time. Want a beer before you go?” You shook your head, “Nah, I’m okay right now. Care to watch my stuff?”

The brunette gestured to the items in front of her, chuckling, “I’m watchin’ everyone else's. I don’t see why not.” You chuckled and sat your wallet, phone, and keys down, as well as your sunglasses. You slipped off your shorts, folding them and laying them down.

“Nivans!”

You turned at the call of your last name, brows raised in curiosity.

It was Maverick.

“Hurry up and get down here!”

You turned to Penny, “This is gonna be fun.” You both laughed before you jogged across the sand to meet everyone by the water.

“Sorry I’m late, Mav.”

Maverick shook his head, “You’re not late, Rockstar. Can’t be late for fun.”

“Not gonna take your t-shirt off?” Phoenix asked when you stood beside her. You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good.”

Hangman sighed, “That’s a shame.”

You chuckled at him and bent down to throw a handful of sand at him.

“Watch it, Rockstar,” Hangman said, his voice light as he glared at you playfully.

“Or what, Hangman?” You challenged, eyes narrowed but a smile pulled at your lips.

Now, you and Hangman joked like this all the time. You considered each other best friends, which confused everyone else on base.

Jake Seresin was an asshole. He was cocky and arrogant. You, Y/N Nivans, were not an asshole. Quite the opposite, actually.

You were humble while still knowing your worth, but also showing anybody up if they proposed a challenge, and not being sour when you lost.

Jake went out looking for competition, you let it come to you.

You were also probably the sweetest thing to walk the planet. Most certainly the sweetest to walk the airstrip.

You were nice to everyone, always giving someone the benefit of the doubt until they truly proved they were an asshole.

You also took care of your team, they were your family. You always had the door open if someone needed to talk. Your arms were wide open when they showed up in the middle of the night because they had a nightmare and couldn’t shake it. You were their rock.

So, when you walked into the Hard Deck that first day of the Uranium Mission and hugged Hangman, everyone was confused — except Coyote who knew you from a year prior. But they didn’t verbally question you, choosing instead to ponder in private.

Hangman sighed, “Come on, Rocky. You're giving your enemy the advantage.” He tugged at your shirt and pulled you into his arms.

You laughed and pushed him away by his chest, “You’re gonna have to catch me first.” Hangman cocked his head to the side, “Oooh, that’s how it is?” You nodded, a smirk playing on your lips, “That’s how it is.”

You panted as you used your shirt to wipe the sweat from your face.

When you let go of your shirt you raised your arms, calling for the ball. They threw it to you and you took off for your endzone.

You felt the sand shift and you knew Hangman was behind you. You had to get rid of the ball, so you called out to your teammate, “Phoenix!” She ran ahead of you and you threw her the ball.

As soon as the ball was out of your hand, Hangman tackled you to the ground.

You laughed as you laid on your stomach, arms out in front of you.

“What was that about ‘catching you’?” Jake grunted from above you.

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking. “Haha, very funny Hangman. Now get off, you’re heavy.”

“First, ouch. Second, nah, you’re comfy.” You laughed and shook your head, attempting to push off the ground and basically buck him off.

But, Hangman wouldn’t let you, laughing as he moved and made you fall back down.

In this new position, Hangman was putting pressure on a certain part of your back and panic shot through you.

“Seriously, dude, get up,” you tried to say with a laugh, not wanting to sound rude or like you were mad at him. He just smiled and rested his chin on his hands.

You closed your eyes and tried to control your breathing, but the waves hitting you pushed you over the edge.

“Jake, get the fuck off me.” You didn’t mean to sound harsh but you were panicking.

Jake was surprised by your tone, along with the use of his first name. He immediately got up and held out a hand for you to take but you just got up and ran to the table.

“Rockstar, where you going?” Maverick asked. You called out while still running, “I need a break for a minute.”

You got to the table, “Is it unlocked?” Penny nodded, “Yeah, why?” “Bathroom break.” Penny just nodded again and watched you take your sunglasses with you as you jogged inside.

Rooster ran over and hit Jake’s arm, “What did you do, Hangman?” Jake shook his head, “I’m not sure.” He put his hands on his hips and watched you disappear into the bar.

He felt bad, he wanted to chase after you and apologize but he didn’t know what he did.

“Well, you seemed to piss her off,” Phoenix said, shoving the ball into his chest.

Maverick looked at Penny but she just shrugged, meaning you didn’t say much.

You ran into the bathroom, throwing yourself into a stall.

You leaned over the toilet and waited to throw up. Tears had started running down your face the minute you stepped in the bar. You coughed and sobbed lightly as you tried to control your breathing.

After a few minutes of that, the nausea subsided and you slowly stood to go to the sink.

You turned the cold water on and splashed your face.

“Shit…”

You closed your eyes as the tight feeling in your chest loosened. You let out a shaky breath and looked in the mirror, cringing at the puffiness around your eyes. You grabbed your sunglasses and slipped them on before leaving the bathroom.

When you stepped outside you saw Maverick and Penny talking, and when you sat down they stopped talking and looked at you concerned.

“You alright? Gave Hangman quite the scare for a second,” Mav asked, squaring his shoulders to you. You nodded, resting your forearms on the table. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You rubbed your forehead, “Hey Pen-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a beer was sat in front of you, causing you to giggle, “Read my mind.”

As he continued to play, Jake still couldn’t get over the fact that you called him ‘Jake’ during a day out.

It wasn’t that you never did, but it was rare that you called anyone by their first name.

But it wasn’t just that, it was the way you said that really made him worry. He had never heard your voice sound like that before.

He looked at you from his spot on the beach, noticing you didn’t come back to join in the fun.

Hangman walked up to Phoenix, worried that he had really upset you and wanted help from the girl you were closest to. “You don’t really think I pissed her off, do you?”

She sighed, “I don’t know, Hangman. Even if you did, I doubt she could stay mad at you for long. She can't be mad at anyone for very long.”

Jake nodded and watched you stand up from your spot at the table.

You finished your beer and stood up, “I’m gonna head out.”

Maverick frowned, “You sure you’re okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just really need to shower. I’ve got sand in places sand shouldn’t be,” you said with a light laugh.

“Okay, drive safe. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.” You collected your stuff and headed to your car.

Jake noticed you leaving and tilted his head, “Hey…” He patted Coyote on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

He jogged up to the table to ask Maverick if he knew anything.

“Is she okay?” Hangman asked as soon as he came to a stop. Maverick shrugged, not looking up at the pilot, “She seemed okay. Said she needed to shower.”

Jake let out a breath, “So she isn’t mad at me?”

“I didn’t say that. But as far as I can tell, she’s just tired.”

Jake licked the sweat off his upper lip, putting his hands on his hips as he looked down.

“Hangman, honey, just go talk to her. If she’s upset with you, she’ll be honest about it,” Penny encouraged, giving Jake a small smile. He nodded and jogged to go find you before you left.

You were standing by your car, the door opened as you moved to get in when he approached.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jake called as he walked over to you. You smiled, “Hey, Hangman.”

Jake swallowed, “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I was just messing around. I did-”

You held your hand up, cutting him off, “Jake, I’m not mad at you. I know you were just playing. But your tackle jump started my bladder and I wasn’t kidding when I said you were heavy.” You giggled a bit to show him you were teasing.

Hangman visibly relaxed at the sound, “Okay, good. I know I like to get under everyone’s skin. Sometimes I don’t know when to knock it off. I–”

You held up your hand, cutting him off. “Jake, I can handle your teasing. Yeah, you can get a little mean. But I know it’s all a big show. Come here,” you opened your arms and made grabby hands at Jake.

He just shook his head and chuckled, pulling you in by your outstretched hands and letting them find their place around his built torso.

He rubbed his hand on your back, nearly missing the slight tensing right beneath your shoulder blades before they relaxed. His brow furrowed but he didn’t mention it, thinking that maybe it was you tightening your arms around him.

He kissed the top of your head before you pulled away.

“Geez, Jake, you’re sweaty.”

“You’re not too dry yourself, Rockstar.” You laughed and playfully shoved him away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” You smiled and slid into your car, “I’ll kick your ass tomorrow Hangman.”

He scoffed leaning on the roof of your car and the open door. “Since when did you get so cocky?”

You smirked and placed your glasses on your head, forgetting that your eyes could still be red and puffy from earlier. “It’s not cocky if it’s the truth.”

Jake shook his head and looked back to the shore. “Uh-huh. We’ll see.” He leaned back and patted the top of your car. “Drive safe.” You nodded, and he closed your door.

He watched you start it up before driving away.

Jake shook his head and made his way back to the group.

Speaking of the group, they had all noticed the change in Jake when you showed up at the Hard Deck a few months ago.

While he was still his cocky self, having no shame in bragging and trash talking, he seemed to tone it down when you were around.

They also noticed how he always made sure to find you in the crowd, keeping an eye on you. Coyote joked that you had Hangman wrapped around your finger, that he would be at your side with a simple look.

Jake was painfully aware of the effect you had on him.

When he met you a year ago, he was starstruck by your dazzling smile.

So, naturally, in true Hangman fashion, he flirted with you.

With a toothpick between his perfect white teeth and his bright green eyes shining under the yellow lights of the bar, he walked up to you.

“I sure hope no one left you alone.”

When you turned, eyeing him up and down to take in the uniform, beer bottle popping as it left your mouth, his breath was ripped from his lungs.

“Well, you’re here now. I’m not alone.”

Seeing your smile up close caused Hangman to blush, and leaving him thankful that his tan could somewhat hide it.

“Well, ain’t I special.”

You nodded, giggling while looking down at the bar, “That you are. But, before this can go any further, I’m gonna be honest, I’m more dedicated to my work than anything else at the moment. And I have to be up by 5, so I’d hate to lead you on.”

Jake shook his head, but you continued, gesturing around the bar, “I’m sure there are plenty of girls here that would love to get attention from you and give you attention.”

Jake smiled –not smirked, smiled– while leaning on the bar, “Well, the only one I want attention from is you. Plus, I can’t stay out too late either. Gotta be at work early too, so I guess we’re both clocking in early.”

None of the feelings that day had been one sided. You also had been starstruck by Hangman.

He was broad shoulder, tall, tan, and had a voice that could make a girl swoon in a second. But you knew he was a pilot, his uniform gave it away, and you knew how they acted. Except, you liked Jake’s company and decided to talk all night with him.

Ironically, what you both did for work never came up.

So, imagine the look on Jake’s face when he saw you the next day in your flight suit.

“You didn’t tell me you were a pilot.”

You smirked, “You didn’t ask.”

He shook his head, biting his lower lip to hide his smile but failed.

You nodded to him, “What do they call you?”

“Hangman. What about you?” You smiled, “Rockstar.”

You were able to peg why he earned his callsign very early on but he couldn’t seem to figure yours out.

Until he had a close call and couldn’t shake it.

The last day of training had just ended, tomorrow you might not come home, and to say you were nervous was a major understatement.

As you changed to get ready to go out with the squad, you couldn’t stop shaking. You knew you needed a drink… okay a couple drinks.

While you changed, Hangman was walking around, looking for you.

When he walked past the locker room, he caught a glimpse of you reaching to pick something up.

He turned to walk in, but stopped when he saw that you only had your pants on. But, before he could stop himself, his eyes trailed up your back; starting from above your waistline on your pants and going up.

Then he stopped, his eyes widening when he saw the large scar that looked fairly new – maybe a year or so old. It spanned from the middle of your left shoulder blade to nearly below your ribcage and was positioned diagonally across your back.

Jake quickly looked away, realizing that you must have not wanted anyone to see it if you hadn’t told him.

His brow furrowed as questions ran through his mind. Was that why you freaked out during dogfight football, the other day? Why you always tense up when you get an unexpected touch there?

Shit… He thought, feeling like a horrible friend for never noticing and never asking.

Jake took a deep breath and walked away, choosing to approach the locker room differently and pretend he never saw you.

He put on a smile and walked back towards the locker room, “Hey, Rockstar! You almost ready?” He stopped just short of the door, leaning his back against the wall.

Your head jerked up as you pulled your t-shirt down. “Uh, yeah, Hangman. I’ll be ready in a second.”

You finished getting ready and walked out, jumping slightly when he pushed off the wall.

“Geez Hang, don’t do that!” You punched his arm.

“Gosh, I forgot how hard you punch.” He chuckled and rubbed the spot on his arm as you both walked to the parking lot.

You all sat in the Hard Deck, drinking and playing pool.

“Dude, she’s kicking your ass!” Payback laughed as he clapped Hangman on the shoulder.

You were, in fact, kicking Jake’s ass in pool. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the blond narrowed his eyes at Payback.

“Yeah, you feelin’ okay? You’ve been off your game tonight Bagman,” Rooster commented, smirking as he drank his alcohol.

Instead of clapping back at the jab, Jake just rolled his eyes and lined up his shot.

That made you frown, Hangman always had a comeback. Always had sarcastic quips to embarrass the other person. But he was silent.

You made eye contact when he stood, silently asking if he was okay. He just nodded and moved to sink another pool ball.

You didn’t want to drop it, but you did for the sake of having fun before facing the chance of death tomorrow.

Sometime later, after a few rounds of pool and drinks, you all stood around and just talked.

“Hey, did you guys hear about that one pilot that saved her WSO’s life when they got shot down?” Bob asked, looking around the group.

You clenched your jaw slightly, but not enough for anyone to notice.

“Bob, that happens all the time. It’s kinda what we do,” Phoenix said, squeezing his shoulder.

Rooster stood up and sat his beer down. “No, not the way this pilot did. Bob, I know who you’re talking about. I read the mission file, the only thing that was classified was the pilot and WSO’s names.”

You swirled the beer in your glass, not looking up from the amber liquid. “Did the pilot survive?”

When you finished asking, you looked up, trying to ignore the watchful eyes of Hangman as you met Rooster’s eyes.

The latter nodded, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, she did. But she had a pretty serious injury. I’m not sure if she was ever clear to fly again.”

You nodded and looked back down at your glass.

“And the WSO?” Jake asked, eyeing you as you downed the rest of your drink before looking at Rooster and Bob.

“He survived. But I don’t know if he still flies,” Bob answered.

“Well, that’s good that they both survived,” you said, your smile returning to your face.

Rooster shook his head a bit, “Yeah, but that pilot pulled a risky move. Saving some like that…”

Your smile dropped a bit, “People have their reasons.” You raised your glass, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

Hangman watched you leave as the conversation changed into something more light hearted.

Jake took a step to go after you but Coyote caught his arm. “Hey, come on. Play me in a round of pool. Let’s see if you still got your game.” Jake looked from his friend back to you and saw you laughing with Penny and Maverick at the bar. That allowed him to relax a little bit.

“Oh, I still got my game. Let’s see if you found yours,” he smirked. “There he is!” Coyote laughed and clapped Jake on the back.

As Jake played pool with Coyote, you talked with Penny and Maverick.

“Are you serious?”

You nodded, laughing at Penny’s reaction to you telling her how you and Jake met.

“Pen, why are you surprised? Hangman flirts with every girl,” Maverick said, using his hand to point the direction of the mentioned pilot. You and Penny both nodded your agreement.

��Sounds familiar,” Penny says, a playful grin on her face making Maverick roll his eyes.

You had become so invested in your conversation with Penny and Mav, that you missed Rooster coming up behind you.

He placed his hand on your back, right on your scar, making you tense and jump in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya’ Rocky,” he took his hand off and leaned on the bar.

“You doin’ okay? You seemed a bit…” He glanced back at the group, thinking of the right word. “...tense a minute ago.”

You bit the inside of your lip, had you really been that obvious?

Still, you nodded and gave him your best smile.

But to him, he could see that it didn’t reach your eyes. He may not have been your best friend, but he had seen plenty of your genuine smiles and this one did not make your eyes shine like the others.

Bradley decided not to press, “Okay…” He turned to Penny, “Penny, could we get another round?” The bartender nodded, “Of course, but you’re reaching your cut off.”

Penny had set a cut off for drinks for the pilots not wanting them to go into this mission hungover. You chuckled and glanced back at the group, all of them messing around and having fun. “Yes ma’am.”

You turned to Rooster and then back down to your empty glass. Penny hadn’t refilled it yet, having started a conversation with you as soon as you came over.

You glanced at your watch, seeing that you had been there for a couple hours.

Penny sat a tray down, placing the full glasses on top. “There you are, Rooster. Who’s tab?”

Rooster opened his mouth to tell her to put it on his, but you beat him to it, “Put it on mine Pen.”

“You got the last round, Rockstar,” Rooster argued. You shrugged, “I don’t mind. Plus, I’m closing my tab for tonight.”

“What? You’re heading out already?” You nodded, sliding Penny your card, “I’m hitting my limit, Roos.”

Bradley searched your eyes for a moment, looking for any indication that something was wrong.

You were usually the one that made sure everyone was okay to go home and if they needed rides; so leaving early rung bells in Rooster’s head.

Penny gave you your card and receipt, “Thank you.” “Thanks Pen,” you gave her a smile before turning back to Rooster.

“Tell ‘em I’m heading out. I know if I do it I won’t be able to leave.” You gave him a one armed hug and turned to Maverick, “See you in the morning, Captain.”

“See you in the morning, Rockstar.”

Penny gently squeezed your hand, giving you a small smile as you slid off the bar stool and walked out.

Rooster, Maverick, and Penny watched you leave the building before turning to each other, concern written all over their faces.

“Is she okay? She’s been acting a little off ever since dogfight football the other day,” Penny asked the two pilots.

They both shrugged, Bradley looking up at her. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“I’ve noticed, but I thought it was just because Harvard and Yale had to eject the other day,” Mav admitted. “We were all a little shaken up by that…”

It was silent for a minute.

“You know… if one person knows anything, it’d probably be Seresin,” Penny said, pointing over to the pilot, who was very invested in the game he was winning, and basically suggesting that they talk to him.

Bradley sighed, knowing that Penny was right and if anyone knew you the best, it would be him. He grabbed the tray, thanking Penny and walking over to the group.

They all cheered when he sat the tray down, taking a glass for themselves.

Jake noticed that there was an extra and he frowned in confusion before he realized it was for you.

He looked up, eyes searching for you in the crowd, panicking a little when he couldn’t see you, “Where’s Rockstar?”

Rooster sighed, “She closed her tab and left. Said she reached her limit.”

Fanboy frowned a little bit, “Why didn’t she just tell us herself?”

Rooster shrugged, “Said if she did it would take longer for her to leave.”

“Does she seem different to you guys?” Coyote asked, finally voicing his concern that had buit up over the last few days.

The group shared a look before making small noises of agreement.

“I mean, she’s still the same Y/N. Still lighting up a room and being there for us like she always has been… I just… I don’t know.”

Rooster looked at Jake, “Hangman, you’re like her best friend, do you know anything?”

Jake shrugged and shook his head, “All I know is she’s nervous for tomorrow and the accident the other day shook her up a bit, but she hasn’t said anything else.”

He took a large gulp from his beer, hoping to swallow the confession of seeing your scar that he wanted to bring to light. You trusted Jake and he wasn’t about to ruin that by telling the squad what he saw when he wasn’t even supposed to know it was there.

Meanwhile, you walked the beach, taking in the fresh and salty air. You just needed the quiet time before you went home.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, seeing a text from Hangman and laughing slightly at the message.

Hangboy: Hey, I get that I kicked your ass those last few rounds of pool, but you could have told me you were leaving. I would have walked you out. Text me when you get home.

Also, there was an extra beer. I assume it was meant for you, but you left so I drank it. Don’t worry though, I can handle it.

You shook your head and opened your phone, but not to text Jake.

You went to your contacts and pressed the caller ID, putting the phone to your ear as it rang.

“Hey, Rockstar, what's up? It’s been awhile.”

You smiled, sighing, “Sure has been, Tundra. How are you? How’s the little one?” “I’m good. Ben is great, he wants to know when you’ll be by again to visit.”

You giggled at the fact the 6 year old wanted to see you. “Soon… hopefully.” “Y/N, I know that voice. Is it happening again?” You shook your head, despite the fact that Tundra couldn’t see you.

“No, no. Well, sorta, but this is different Diego.” You heard him shift, presumably crossing his arms. “What do you mean?”

You sighed, remembering that you couldn’t share all that much about the mission, even if he was former Navy.

“I don’t know how much I can tell you. But I got called back to TopGun, and I could be flying out on a mission tomorrow. A dangerous one.”

“Y/N, do they know?”

You shook your head again, this time to fight tears. “No, but I’m scared that mid air, I’m gonna freeze. I don’t wanna freeze, Diego. I haven’t frozen since our incident. But I don’t know what’s been wrong these past couple of weeks. I can’t seem to shake off this dread�� this-this fear. I do-don’t-”

He cut you off, “Have you talked to anyone recently?”

You were silent and he took that as a no. “Y/N, you have to talk about it if you ever want to move past it.” “I did though. I had mandated therapy for my entire time in recovery.” “And have you been since you recovered?”

You threw a hand up, frustrated, “I thought I was past it! I hadn’t had an attack in a year, not until we were playing football. I-I thought it was just a one time thing, and then something happened during training and I just-”

You were cut off by a small, tired voice.

“Is that Aunt Y/N?”

“It is. Do you want to talk to her? I think she needs to talk to you.” “Yes, please!” You smiled as you heard the phone go to speaker and then be passed to the little boy.

“Hey, Aunt Y/N!”

You smiled, tears finally falling, “Benarino, hey buddy.” “I miss you. When are you coming to visit?” You wiped at your eyes with a shaking hand. “Soon, buddy. Really soon,” you sniffled.

“Aunt Y/N, why are you crying?”

You laughed, coughing a little at the end, “I just really miss you Benny. I can’t wait to see you.”

You looked back at the Hard Deck, seeing your fellow pilots laugh and sing.

“I’m gonna bring a friend too. If that’s okay with your mom and dad?” “That’s alright with me, Rockstar. I’m sure Lila won’t mind.”

“Who is it?”

You brought playfulness into your voice, “You remember the pilot I told you about? The one that thought he could fly better than your Aunt Rocky?”

The little boy giggled, “Yeah!” “Well, I think it’s about time you brought home the boy that stole your heart.”

“Diego,” you hissed. “We are just friends.” “Mhmm, sure.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “You should probably get Ben to bed before Lila wakes up.”

You heard Diego grunt as he picked up his son, “Goodnight Benny Boy.” “G’night Aunt Y/N.”

“Call me when you make it back.” You nodded, hand sliding into your back pocket, “Yeah, of course. Night Tundra.” “Night Rockstar.”

The call ended and you slid your phone into your unoccupied back pocket.

You took in a deep breath, trying to relax again. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out.

On an inhale, the scent of smoke filled your nostrils and it made you hold your breath.

Quickly looking around, you spotted a bonfire a couple yards away. Realizing it was harmless, you let out the breath and tried to relax your shoulders.

But, despite knowing it was completely harmless, your body went into a state of panic. Your chest tightened, limbs went numb, pain spread through your back, and tears filled your eyes.

You held a hand to your chest, the air stopping just before it made it to your lungs, and stumbled to your car as fast as you could, hoping you weren’t seen by your friends inside the bar.

Jake looked at his phone as he left the bar. You hadn’t texted him, and by now you definitely should have been back to your on base bungalow.

Hangman wasn’t going to panic, he knew you well enough that you would have texted or called him if something bad happened. Of course he felt anxious, who wouldn’t, but he was going to remain calm.

The reason you hadn’t texted him when you got home was because the moment you fumbled yourself into your place, you booked it for the bathroom.

Your knees smacked into the tile and you threw up whatever alcohol you had consumed before the strangled sob ripped itself from your throat. You crumbled to the tile as your chest refused to let air in.

Your skin felt hot and sticky, sweat coating it as you laid on your bathroom floor. It wasn’t helping you, your damp, hot skin sending you back to one of the worst days of your life.

So, in a frenzy, you ripped off your shirt and kicked off your shoes and socks before yanking your pants off, not even loosening your belt.

You crawled over the tub wall, too dizzy to properly stand, before fumbling with the knob to turn the water on.

Once you got it turned on, you jostled the faucet switch, a desperate sob escaping as it kept falling down before it finally stuck, turning the shower on and drenching you in water.

And that was how Jake found you.

Jake decided to stop by your place and check on you, that being his only option to get his anxiety to go away.

When he pulled up to your place and saw your car there, he let out a breath of relief.

He parked his truck behind your car and ran to your door, his chest lighter than before.

But his chest became heavy again when he made it to your door only to find it unlocked. You rarely left your door unlocked, if ever.

He cautiously pushed it open, looking around to see if anything was out of place.

Your keys were on the floor, your phone and wallet not too far from them.

Jake walked further in, making sure to close and lock the door behind him.

He held his breath as he looked for you. But his search was cut short when he heard the shower running.

He exhaled and had to take a minute to calm the drumming in his chest.

He cautiously walked to the bathroom, making sure to knock before walking in. He kept his head down so he didn’t see anything he wasn’t supposed to… again.

“Hey I was-”

The door stopped, hitting something on the floor.

Hangman squinted his eyes in confusion. It was your shoe. He kicked it out of the way and pushed the door open enough for him to just step in and close it.

He stopped with his hand on the door, realizing that the room didn’t feel like a sauna. There was no fog covering the mirrors and steam wasn’t filling the small space. You always showered hot, and right now the bathroom was freezing.

Jake finally looked up and saw you curled in the shower, the water cascading from the faucet and hitting your back. It was obvious you had been there for a while because you were shivering.

Jake sat on the edge of the tub cautiously, not wanting to startle you.

His heart broke at the sound of your quiet crying and the puffy redness of your eyes was a sight Jake never wanted to see again.

The eyes that usually held the brightness of the stars and a kindness that was unmatched, were now red, distant, and constantly filled with tears that fell over and mixed with the water drenching you.

He hated it.

Jake held his hand under the water and recoiled at how cold it was.

“Shit,” he cursed as he quickly turned it off.

When you didn’t react, he knew you truly weren’t in this reality.

“Y/N,” he spoke gently and touched your arm. He sharply inhaled when he discovered how cold you were. “Y/N, darlin’, we need to dry you off and get you in some warm clothes. You’ll get sick.”

Jake wasn’t sure if you heard him because you just stared ahead, biting on your nail. He sighed and pulled your hand away from your mouth.

He moved to pull his hand back but you grabbed it, your freezing cold hand latching onto his warm one. “Please don’t… Jake, please don’t leave.”

Your voice was quiet and broken, raw with fear. And he was sure that sent a shiver up his back.

Jake quickly shifted to kneel beside the tub, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand. “I’d never leave you hangin’.”

He looked you over, “Can I pick you up?” You nodded, letting his hand slip from your grip and feel it wrap under your legs.

He awkwardly shifted to lean over and pick you up, grunting a little as stood up. He was too pressed about his clothes getting wet, he’s sure he’s got pants somewhere around here.

Jake managed to open the bathroom door and walked to your bedroom.

He sat you on the bed and quickly grabbed the towel on the back of your desk chair.

Wrapping it around you, Jake kissed the top of your head. “You’re okay. You’re safe,” he spoke gently against your hair.

He pulled back and watched you bite your lip to keep your tears hidden.

You avoided his eyes, looking at your shaking hands.

“I’m gonna get you some clothes, okay?” You slowly nodded, lip trembling before you bit down on it again.

Your eyes didn’t follow him as he walked around your room, but your ears were very aware of Jake’s noises; everything from his footsteps to his mumbling.

In under five minutes, neatly folded clothes were placed beside you and Jake kneeled in front of you, his large hands resting on your biceps gently.

“Do you want me to stay while you change?”

It took you a second to register what he had asked, but he was patient and rubbed reassuring circles on your arms with his thumbs.

You inhaled, the familiar scent of his cologne calming you down a bit.

You were tempted to say yes, you didn’t want to be alone but you also didn’t want Jake to see you any more vulnerable than he already has.

You shook your head, unconsciously pulling the towel tighter around you.

Jake noticed it and nodded, “Okay, I’ll go tidy up your bathroom and throw some blankets in the dryer to fluff them up and get ‘em warm.” He gave you a small smile and stood, leaving the room and the door open just a crack.

You managed to peel off the wet bra and underwear, drying off before changing.

That simple task was exhausting. It felt like your bones had turned to rocks and your muscles no longer existed. But eventually, you did it.

You haphazardly dried your hair, basically just dry enough to where it wasn’t dripping, and walked into the small living room.

You sat on the couch, deciding to occupy your hands with your oversized shirt while you waited for Jake.

Minutes later he was on the couch beside you, wrapping you in the fresh-out-of-the-dryer blanket.

“Thank you…” Your voice had a rawness to it that made Jake shiver, something was really wrong and he didn’t know how to help.

He nodded and rubbed your upper back, “Of course.”

He sat there for a moment, just listening to your sniffles and weeping exhales, before finally turning to face you.

“What’s going on? ‘Cause this-” He gestured to you and your current state. “-is way more than just nerves for tomorrow.”

“I’ll be-”

“If you say ‘fine’, I swear,” he sighed to control his volume. “Y/N, you are not fine.”

“Jake…”

The blond pilot took a deep breath, looking at the sliver of couch cushion between you. “I saw it…”

If you weren’t going to be honest, then he needed to be. Maybe what he saw is connected to what was shaking you to your core all of a sudden.

He finally looked up at you and watched your breathing halt as fear filled your eyes.

Jake continued, making sure to keep his tone even, “I didn’t mean to. I was just looking for you in the locker room today and I-” He stopped talking when you choked out a small cry.

He immediately pulled you into his lap, one hand going to the back of your head and the other arm wrapped around your lower back. “I got you… I got you.”

Jake closed his eyes and rocked you a little as his mind went back to the day these roles were reversed.

Jake had sat in the locker room, flight suit half off and tied around his waist. His knee bouncing as his eyes went in and out of focus.

“Hangman!” You called as you ran down the hall. But he couldn’t hear you with the blood still rushing in his ears.

“Hangman! Hang- There you are!” You jogged to him and saw that his emerald eyes were blank, not the playful or confident eyes you normally saw. “Hey, Hang- Jake what’s wrong?” You knelt in front of him, putting a hand on his bouncing knee to stop it.

Jake looked at you, the concern swimming in your eyes breaking whatever resolve he had left.

The tears he tried so hard to hold in finally spilled down his cheeks.

You instantly cupped his face in your hands, wiping them away, “What’s got you so shaken up? I’ve never seen you like this.”

He shook his head, pushing your hands away as he sat up and leaned against the locker. “You’re not supposed to.”

You sighed and leaned back on your heels, “What happened up there?”

Jake wiped the still flowing tears, shaking his head, “I don’t know. I guess- Fuck I don’t know, Rockstar.”

You stood, “Talk to me, Jake. Please, I’m your friend and I want to help.”

Your tone was desperate and worried. This was a new version of Jake that you would have never seen if you hadn’t followed him off the tarmac.

Hangman finally got the guts to grab your hand and squeeze it. He took a deep breath as he tried to collect himself.

“I almost lost you up there. You’re one of my closest friends, we’ve only known each other for a few months and I feel like we’ve known each other forever. I never let myself be that close to anyone, but you made it so easy.”

His voice was raw and shaky. He was scared, but you couldn’t blame him. What just happened to you both was really intense and it was scary. But you were both okay.

You squeezed his hand back, giving him a soft but encouraging smile.

“Can we just- Shit this is gonna sound so weird…”

You knew where he was going, so you straddled his legs and wrapped him in a hug. “I got you Jake, I got you.”

That was when Jake realized the backstory to your call sign. You were everyone’s rock. You kept everyone sane, even at the expense of yourself.

Which is why you were currently shaking and sobbing in his arms. You never sought out comfort for your problems, a bad habit you picked up in high school. You always put everyone first, and you had it in your head that you couldn’t be vulnerable.

You pulled away from him, not meeting his eyes, “I’m sorry…”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?”

“Because I-”

“Because you’re being vulnerable in front of someone?” You nodded, unconsciously playing with your fingers. “Look at me, please.” You did, biting your lip to hold your tears in.

“You are allowed to be vulnerable. You are allowed to cry. You are allowed to be scared. You shouldn’t have to hide your feelings from your friends. I’m sorry if we ever made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us.”

You nodded, staying silent, focusing on how Jake had moved his hand from the back of your head to your cheek to rub his thumb back and forth on your cheekbone.

Your silence broke his heart a little bit, making him think you didn’t trust him. But he knew he had to be patient with you.

He goes to move his hand away but you hold it there. “I thought I was over it…”

“Over what, Sweetheart?”

“The accident…”

Jake pushed some hair behind your ear, “What accident?”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. He wiped them away as he spoke softly, “Take your time…” You nodded, swallowing as you tried to catch your bearings.

“A year before I was stationed with you, I was flying a mission. It was dangerous, but still fairly routine. On my way out, I got hit. It completely destroyed my weapons system. Before I could get back up, I was hit again. This time it took out my engine.” You took another deep breath, looking up at the ceiling.

“We were dropping altitude fast and my WSO and I had to eject. We landed on a beach, we unbuckled so fast,” you chuckled, remembering the relief you and Diego felt before the shit hit the fan.

Jake smiled a little bit at the sound, but dropped it when you started talking again.

“However the jet had also crashed onto the beach too. The fuel had leaked and caused an explosion. I covered my WSO, and a piece of scrap metal lodged itself into my back.”

Jake’s eyes widened, more dots connecting in his mind, “You’re the pilot the squad was talking about at the bar…”

You nodded, wiping your eyes, “Jake, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s just… when I was in recovery, if I wanted to fly again, I had to go through therapy. And I haven’t had an attack in a year…” You got choked up again, hot tears rolling down your face, “Hang, I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, using both of his hands to wipe your face, “Hey, don’t be sorry. Do I wish you would have told me sooner? Hell yeah, but I understand why you didn’t.” You just nodded and relaxed into his hands.

“What happens when you have an attack?”

You took a sharp inhale through your nose before sighing it out, “It depends. I sometimes get flashbacks of the beach, everytime I close my eyes I just see fire and it’s fucking terrifying. Other times, when it gets really bad, I can feel pain in my back, but that’s rare.”

You bit your lip a little as you looked away, and Jake knew, “That happened tonight didn’t it?” You nodded, coughing a little bit, “Yeah, uh, yeah it did.”

“Was it because we talked about-”

“No," you said quickly. "W-well, I mean kinda… yeah. But there was a bonfire happening on the beach, and just the two things… my brain went into panic mode. Before you ask, I don’t really know what triggers it. But during dogfight football-”

Jake’s eyes widened and he dropped his hands, “Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Exactly, Jake, you had no idea. It’s not your fault. It was just the pressure on my scar made me panic, and I was back on that damned beach. But I’m not mad or upset with you because you had no idea. So don’t beat yourself up, please.”

Jake nodded, bringing you into a hug again, being mindful of the scar. “Jake, you can touch it. I know I’m safe.” He said nothing and brought a hand to run over the covered scar before tightening his hug.

“Can you tell me about him? Your WSO?”

You nodded, “Diego Harding, call sign Tundra. He has a wife and a son.”

“That’s why you-”

“Yeah, that’s why I covered him. He had a family to go back to.”

“What about you?”

You sighed again, using Jake’s shoulders to sit up, “Most of my family served. My dad was killed in action when I was young. My mom died when I was a teenager, leaving Piers to raise me for a little bit. Then Piers goes and sacrifices himself… so I didn’t have anyone to come home too.”

You shrugged and got off his lap, but snuggled into his side.

He rubbed lazy circles on your bicep. “Well now you do.” You looked up at him confused, “What?”

“You’ve got me to come home to, and I’ve got you.” He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Don’t get sappy on me, Seresin.” He just chuckled.

It was silent for a moment.

“Promise me that you’ll do your best to fly back to me,” he asked in a hushed whisper as if he were telling you a secret.

“Only if you do,” you whispered back.

He held out his pinky, “I promise.” You nodded, interlocking your pinky with his, “I promise too.”

“Can’t break that now, you know,” he chuckled, squeezing your pinky a little. You giggled a little before yawning, “I know, cowboy.”

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allthingsfangirl101 · 5 months ago

Text

Baby Mav – Jake Seresin

SPIN OFF OF PREVIOUS NOVEL – BABY MAV (Masterlist to OG story here.)

Summary: This imagine is a slight twist on my Top Gun: Maverick fanfic, "Baby Mav". Maddlyn Mitchell is the daughter of Pete "Maverick" Mitchell. After a horrible accident, Maddy went on medical leave. She only returned to the Top Gun program because her father needed help training the new recruits. While training, Maddy buts heads with Jake "Hangman" Seresin. After not following the rules and ignoring his team, Maddy forces Hangman to fly with her. He continues to ignore her instruction and it ends up causing Maddy to crash. In the crash, she severely broke her back and was paralyzed from the waist down. Maddy has to live her life in a wheelchair and Hangman has to live with the guilt of being the cause of her pain.

~ • ~

Hangman checked the infirmary lobby before quickly heading down the hallway toward Maddy's room.

Maybe it was how he's been treated. Maybe it was the fact that he knew he deserved everything they said to him. He finally forced himself to open her door.

But not before knocking of course.

He took a deep breath before forcing himself to knock.

"Come in."

Maddlyn's breath got caught in her throat when Hangman walked into her room. "What are you doing here?" She asked, making him freeze in the doorway.

"I just. . . I figured you'd. . . I thought maybe we could. . . If you. . ."

"Wow," she scoffed, cutting off his awkward stuttering. "If this is you trying to apologize, you're shit at it."

"I wasn't. . . I mean. . ."

"You can't even admit it," Maddlyn rolled her eyes. "You should just leave."

"Maddlyn, I was trying. . ."

"It's the why that annoys me."

"The why?" Hangman asked.

"Be honest," Maddy sighed, "you're not here because you actually want to apologize to me. You're here because you want to apologize for yourself. You're only apologizing for the sake of your reputation."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you don't care whether I forgive you," she clarified. "You only care that everyone hates you for what you did to me. You are only apologizing so they'll figure it out and become your friends again."

"That's not. . ."

"Don't," she cut him off. "Everyone knows you have an ego the size of Canada. Try shrinking it."

"Maddlyn," he started. Maddy waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"Please," she sighed, "just go. And come back when you decide to apologize because the only person you want to know that you apologized to is the girl you apologized to."

~ • ~

That was a month ago. He's wanted to try to approach her again and apologize but whenever he gets close to the infirmary, Rooster stops him.

Maddlyn was released from the hospital early that week. Rumor was that she and Maverick moved into a one-story home close to Maddlyn's doctor and physical therapist. Hangman took a shaky breath before walking up to the front door and knocking.

"Hangman," Maverick stuttered when he opened the door. "Umm. . . What can I do for you?"

"Well I. . . I was. . . I wanted to. . . I wanted to see how Maddy was doing," he finally got out.

"Oh," Maverick said under his throat. "That's very. . . sweet of you, Hangman, but we just got back from Maddy's physical therapy. She's taking a nap."

"Okay," Hangman said, wiping his hands on his pants. "Maybe I can come back later?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Lieutenant," Maverick sighed. "Maddy is struggling and the first few months are the most important for her. She needs time."

"I understand," Hangman said. He was about to walk away but stopped. He knew there was something he needed to say to Maverick. He turned back around before he could wimp out. "I'm really sorry about what happened, Captain Phillips. I should've listened to Maddy. If I had, she wouldn't have gotten hurt. I am so sorry, Maverick. I hope, someday, you'll be able to forgive me."

"I appreciate you saying that," Maverick nodded as he shook his hand. Hangman nodded before walking back down the walkway.

"Hangman," Maverick called out, stopping him at the end of the walkway. "Give Mads some time."

* * * * *

Another month later, Hangman tried to visit Maddy again. As he walked to the front door, someone caught his eye. Right at the edge where the pavement meets the sand was Maddy in her wheelchair. He walked over and hesitated for a minute.

"I know I was supposed to have you help me," Maddy sighed, "but I need to get used to moving around on my own, Dad."

"I'm not surprised," Hangman chuckled lightly. Maddy gasped as she looked over her shoulder. Hangman's heart sank when he saw that her gasp caused her pain. He jogged over to her and helped her turn around.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, trying to show she wasn't in any pain.

"I came to apologize to you," he said, kneeling in front of her. "Truly apologize to you. Not just because I want the team to stop being angry with me. I want to apologize to you for you. I'm truly sorry, Maddy. I should've listened to you and followed your orders. I was an idiot. Worse, I acted just like your old team. I never should've treated you like that, Maddlyn. I am so sorry."

"Hangman," she sighed.

"I want to make it up to you," he continued. "I mean it, Maddlyn. I will do anything to make it up to you. I'll help you and Maverick around the house. I'll run errands. Hell, if you wanted me benched from the upcoming mission, fine. Have Maverick bench me."

"I'm not going to do that," Maddy said with a small chuckle. "Thank you."

The two stared at each other for a second before Hangman decided to lighten the tension. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Shouldn't you be at the base?" She smirked.

"Not allowed. I've been suspended for a few weeks," he shrugged. Maddlyn's smirk fell. She was about to say something, but Hangman cut her off. "It's okay. I deserve to be benched for a while."

"I can talk to my dad," Maddy said quickly. "I can get them to lift your suspension. It was an accident."

"Maddy, it's okay," he tried to reassure.

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is," he chuckled.

"I can talk to. . ."

"I don't want you to talk to anyone," Hangman gently cut her off. "I am okay with my two-week suspension. I deserve it."

"Seresin," she stuttered. Her use of his last name and not his call sign made his throat tighten. "I can fix it."

"You don't need to," Hangman whispered. His eyes glanced down at her legs before returning to her eyes. "I can't fix what I did."

Maddy reached over and grabbed his hand. "Now that I think about it, I could use your help with something. Your offer still stands?"

"Of course," he smiled.

"I need to go to my physical therapy appointment, but my dad is stuck on base. Our neighbor was going to make his teenage grandson take me," she paused, Hangman seeing the insecurity in her eyes, "but he couldn't lift a pillow, let alone. . . me. Think you can carry me?"

Hangman tightened his hold on her hand and waited for her to look at him.

"I could easily carry you, Maddy."

* * * * *

After Maddy's physical therapy appointment, Hangman wheeled her out of the office. She got a little nervous as he stopped her wheelchair next to the new car her father bought. He unlocked the car and was about to pick her up but stopped when he saw the look on her face.

"You feeling okay?" Hangman asked her as he knelt beside her.

"I'm fine," she stuttered.

"Maddy," he whispered as he gently lifted her chin so she was looking at him. "Talk to me."

"I'm just worried," she admitted.

"About what?" He asked as he let go of her chin.

"That I'll be too heavy."

"Maddy," Hangman sighed. "I got you out of your wheelchair and into the car. Then I got you out of the car and into your wheelchair. I can get you back into the car."

"I held my weight before," she admitted, her focus on her hands. "But this time. . . I'm tired and can't. . ."

"Hey," he whispered when she let her sentence drop. "I've got you, Maddy. I promise."

He stood back up and opened the passenger side door. He turned back to Maddy to see her still messing with her hands. He walked over and gently grabbed one of her hands. He leaned down and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. He carefully slid his other arm under her knees. He froze when she gasped in pain.

"You okay?" He whispered.

"Yeah," she said shakily. "I'm always a little sore after PT."

"Let's get you home so you can get some sleep," he said as he picked her up from her chair. It felt like his heart skipped a beat when Maddy leaned her head against his chest. He gently put her in the passenger seat and buckled her in.

"I could've done that," she chuckled.

"I know," Hangman shrugged. Maddy laughed when he booped her nose before closing the door and walking to the driver's side.

They drove back to Maddy and Maverick's house with the radio softly playing. About halfway there, Hangman noticed Maddy had fallen asleep. He drove around a little extra to let her sleep. When he finally pulled into their driveway, he gently woke her up.

"Maddy," he whispered. "We're home."

Maddy's eyes fluttered open and the first thing she saw was Hangman's worried face.

"Can I ask you something a little extreme?" She asked, tiredness coming through her voice.

"You can ask me for anything."

Maddy ignored the feeling Hangman's statement gave her. "Instead of putting me in my wheelchair and taking me inside just to pick me back up and put me in bed, can you just carry me straight to my room?"

"Of course," he smiled. He got out, ran to open the front door, and quickly returned to the car. He opened Maddy's car door and she had already unbuckled her seatbelt.

Hangman didn't have to wrap her arm around his shoulders. She instantly did as he leaned down. He slowly and gently slid his arm under her knees and carefully picked her up.

As he carried her inside, he could see her hiding her pain. He walked faster, wanting to give her any kind of relief he could. When they got to her room, he gently laid her down. This time, she didn't bother hiding her pain. Or maybe she didn't have the energy to hide it from him. . .

His eyes constantly studied hers as he helped her get settled in bed. He reached over and moved some hair out of her face, his hand freezing on her cheek.

"Is there anything I can get you?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Some water? A snack? Some. . . pain medication?"

"No," she smiled weakly. "But thank you. I just need a nap."

"You sure?"

Maddy nodded as she whispered, "I'm sure."

"Okay," Hangman sighed, slightly clearing his throat before standing up. He knew he should leave so she could get some sleep, but he didn't want to leave her. "I think I should put my number in your phone."

"Hangman," she sighed.

"Not for that," Hangman said quickly. "I just think that you should have it in case something happens, you know? Your dad is all the way on base and I'm here in town. If something happens, I want you to call me."

Maddy smiled at him as she reached over and grabbed his hand. "Thank you."

"Of course," he smiled back at her. He was about to leave, but Maddy cut him off when he got to the doorway.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"I only know you by Hangman," she said, her face slightly turning pink. "I mean, I know you're Lieutenant Seresin but. . . What's your first name?"

"Jake."

"Thank you, Jake."

Maddlyn using his first name made his heart skip a beat. He smiled at her before gently closing the door behind him. He felt weird as he walked through their house. His eyes stopped and landed on their photo wall. He scanned the pictures, all of Maddy throughout her life. He froze on a picture of Maddy and Maverick by her plane. The guilt suffocated him as he knew she'd never be able to fly again.

And all because of him.

Part 2

#glen powell fanfic #glenpowellfanfic #glen powell imagines #top gun #top gun: Maverick #hangman #jake Seresin #fanfic

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the-authoress-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Up Where We Belong

Part One

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Writer!reader

Up Where We Belong Masterlist

Synopsis: When a writer experiencing horrible writer’s block goes to the Apple Valley Airshow for inspiration, she meets a certain older, daring naval aviator, leading to maybe a little more than just inspiration.

Warnings: Mentions of hospice and family member deaths, age gap (reader is in their late thirties to early forties).

But really, this is just fluff.

Author’s Note: The plot bunnies have reproduced at an unholy rate, and I am so stupid for writing this, especially since I have another chapter of “Wherever You Go”, to write, the first chapter of “Safe and Sound” and a MavDad story to finish.

The second part and another Mav story is lined up, but at this point, I’m not going to complain, because at least I’m writing, and Mav is finally getting more of my writerly attention.

We’ll see what gets finished next, 😂.

#writerlife

Again, I name a story after a song, from another movie about the Navy, funnily enough.

(Only three of my stories on my masterlist are not named after songs—I can’t stop, apparently)

So here we go!

She had always been somewhat interested in planes—it was hard not to be, when most of her family was in commercial aviation.

Her father had flown for nearly thirty years for American, her younger brother was currently a first officer coming up on his command upgrade with Delta, and her grandfather, whom she affectionately called PopPop, had flown for Continental.

Some of her fondest memories were looking over her grandfather’s maps and airport diagrams, and sitting on his lap while he taught her how to use an analog flight computer.

But one day, when she was home from her freshman year of college, where she was taking her degree in English, her grandfather took her up to the attic to show her something.

It was a footlocker from World War II, the faded paint on the outside reading “USAAF”.

“This was your granduncle Joseph’s—my eldest brother.

He was a P-51 pilot.

He ran many successful missions in his aircraft until he got shot down saving his wingman’s life, near the end of the war.”

PopPop opened the footlocker, revealing a faded American flag folded into a tricorn lying neatly atop several dark greenish-brown uniforms.

PopPop gently lifted the flag and uniforms out of the footlocker, uncovering yellowed, brittle-looking maps, a compass set, and a thick stack of letters, tied together with a black ribbon.

It was the stack of letters that PopPop lifted out, and held out to her. “Look at these, and read them.”

She did, and the story the letters contained was beautiful and heartbreaking.

Her granduncle had fallen in love with a woman who was a member of the French Resistance, named Céline, whom he’d met during a covert resupply mission, and they even had plans to marry after the war.

But she’d died in a skirmish with German soldiers in Paris, leaving him so bereft that he’d taken to writing letters to her specter, just to have an outlet for his grief.

The last letter in the pile was heartwrenching, where her granduncle Joseph talked about how he was only living because she would want him to, only being careful in the air because she’d want him to.

She’d cried reading the letters, and she’d asked PopPop why he’d wanted her to read the letters.

“I wanted someone else to know their story,” he’d simply replied.

“No one else knows?”

He hummed, considering his answer. “Sometimes you keep some things to yourself until the right person to tell comes along.”

A few years passed, and when PopPop was on hospice, the two of them were watching “Band of Brothers”, when she remembered Uncle Joe, as she’d taken to calling him in her head.

“What’s going on in that bright head of yours, darling?” PopPop’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Oh, uh, nothing much, I was just remembering Uncle Joe.

Thinking that he and Céline deserved better.”

“They did.”

She shook her head, “I wish I could write them a happier ending, you know?”

PopPop hummed weakly. “Well, why don’t you?

If anyone could do it, it would be you.

If you do that, I’m sure in a few years, those English professors of yours would be saying that they taught a great American author.”

She was shocked and touched. “Wha—I—well, I guess I could, but, are—y-you’d be okay with that, PopPop?”

He laid a cold hand on hers, “I wouldn’t trust it to anyone else, my dear girl.”

“Okay,” she smiled tearily, and nodded, the two of them returning their attention to the episode.

A week later, PopPop passed, and many things happened over the ensuing years that caused the idea of writing about Uncle Joe to be put on the back burner.

In fact, she forgot all about it, until she was sitting on her couch a couple of weeks after having been let go from her job as an English teacher at her local high school.

She was mindlessly watching an episode of some show she couldn’t even remember the name of, when her eyes landed on the footlocker which PopPop had given to her in his will.

The memory of PopPop encouraging her to write about Uncle Joe came back to her, and she paused the episode, strode over to the footlocker, carefully opened it, and drew out the letters.

Madly, over the course of the next several hours, she reread the letters, numerous research-related tabs quickly opening up on her phone, tablet, and laptop.

As months passed, she made good progress on her first draft, but somewhere along the way, about slightly less than halfway through her intended story beats, she hit the dreaded dead end, writer’s block in full force.

Rereading the letters did nothing—every line she wrote, she deleted; she felt lost, and like she’d completely lost Uncle Joe and Céline’s voices.

She felt right back at square one.

Then, one day, as she was looking at her brother’s latest Facebook reel from his layover in Korea, she saw an advertisement for the Apple Valley Airshow, which would feature an aerobatic demonstration with an actual, airworthy P-51.

Maybe seeing the aircraft her Uncle flew would shake something loose in her brain so she could move forward.

She didn’t even hesitate—she immediately booked a ticket, and prepared herself to take down a lot of notes.

The airshow was absolutely wonderful, and even though she never got as into aviation as the rest of her family, it was still something which fascinated her, and seeing the planes made her marvel all over again at the miracle that was aviation, how humankind had successfully taken the skies for itself through brutally elegant means.

Finally, it was time for the reason she’d come—the emcee began, “Now, everyone, you’re all in for a treat, because up next, we have a nearly eighty-year-old aircraft, a P-51K named Bianca, and she’ll be giving us an aerobatic demonstration!

So let’s give a warm Apple Valley Airshow welcome to Bianca and her owner and pilot, US Navy Captain Pete Mitchell!”

She clapped along with everyone else, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the P-51.

Soon, the sound of a propeller engine grew louder and louder, and then, there she was.

Bianca was gorgeous, gleaming silver with red markings, the American star roundel on her side.

The shining aircraft got closer and closer to the ground, towards the crowd, and just as she was about to worry that the P-51 was in an upset condition, the plane pulled up slightly, buzzing the transfixed people.

Laughing in awe and delight, she clapped with everyone, and watched as the daring pilot put the plane through a series of hair-raising spirals, rolls, dives, and elegant, breathtaking passes with such precision, skill, and ease, just knowing that whoever was flying that old girl had aviation in his blood as surely as it ran in hers; it made her wonder what her granduncle would say about how the venerable fighter was being flown.

Before she knew it, the demonstration was over, and with another low pass and wing wave, the P-51 flew off to land.

It actually took her a moment to come back to herself, she was so stunned by what she saw, and she knew she had to see Bianca up close.

After asking for directions to the flight line, she scanned the row of planes, eventually spying a flash of red.

She walked over, catching sight of a tall, mustached man a few years younger than her, standing in front of the aircraft, wearing a borderline-obnoxiously-loud Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over a white tank and jeans, stereotypical Ray-Bans pushed up onto his head.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes?” the man replied.

“Is this the P-51 which flew a few minutes ago?

She is a P-51, right?”

“That’d be a yes to both questions, ma’am.”

She chuckled grimly at the idea that her age was maybe showing enough for her to be ma’am-ed by someone only a few years younger than her. “Are you the owner?”

He scoffed, good-naturedly. “Nah, that’ll be my dad.

Hey Dad, someone wants to talk to you!”

A moment later, a man stepped out from under the P-51, and she’d absolutely be lying if she said her breath didn’t catch.

First off, if she had to guess, he was older than her, but there was something about him which made him seem younger than his age.

Then there was the fact that he was absurdly good looking—ridiculously so, in fact; impossibly raven-dark hair, mischievously sparkling, brilliant green eyes, and a physique that people half her age would kill for, all sinewy muscle, visible with the snug white t-shirt and jeans he was wearing.

The final nail in the proverbial coffin was his smile—God, it belonged in a museum, because it was a work of art, and coupled with his roguish air, everything about him screamed the most delicious kind of trouble, sending echoes of Whoopi Goldberg’s voice saying, “You in danger, girl,” through her head.

“Hi,” he began, extending his hand.

Luckily for her, she was quick on the draw, and extended her own hand, proffering a “Hi,” of her own, though she kicked herself at the fact that the next words out of her mouth were, “Are you the owner?”

Oh, well—couldn’t win them all.

His grip was firm and calloused, but gentle, without the cool metal band she expected on his fourth finger, quick eyes observing the lack of even a pale band of skin on the same finger, and she shook herself from the observation in time to hear his, “That’s me—Pete Mitchell, you can call me Mav.”

At her quizzical look, he continued, “It’s short for my callsign, Maverick—I’m Navy.”

She nodded, “The emcee did say you were Navy, and that tracks; judging from that impressive demonstration, you don’t strike me as the kind who blends in.”

“Thank you—I aim to please,” he grinned.

Miraculously, she managed to ignore his brilliant, beautiful smile, somehow mustering a “Well, you certainly delivered,” before she introduced herself.

A cough from the younger man, Pete’s son, made her realize that she hadn’t let go of Pete’s hand, and vice versa, which caused the two of them to practically spring apart.

“Oh, uh, this is my son, Bradley,” Pete introduced the younger man, reaching nearly comically up to wrap an arm around Bradley’s shoulders.

“Nice to meet you, Bradley,” she replied, trying to recollect herself while her mind acted like it was the first time she’d interacted with a good-looking man.

“Nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

“I look that bad, do I?” she chuckled.

“Just the way he was raised,” Pete proudly said, patting his son on the back.

Embarrassingly, she just then remembered the reason she was here. “Oh, I—I actually had a few questions for you, Pete, about the P-51, because I’m writing a book, and I wanted to get some details.”

His eyes lit up. “Details about this old girl, huh?

I can do that; come on, let me show you around.” He moved to the side of the aircraft and gestured grandly. “Bianca here’s a Dallas-built North American P-51K, with a Packard V-1650-7 engine and an 11 foot diameter Aeroproducts propeller.

She was donated to the Civil Air Patrol in 1946, and I acquired her in 2001.

I’m not sure if she ever saw combat, because her military flight logs were lost, but I know for a fact that she routinely patrolled the California skies way back when.

Let me show you the controls.”

He nimbly boosted himself up to the wing and held his hand out to her. “Come on up.”

“Uh, is this a wise decision?” she asked, glancing between his hand and the wing. “She is nearly eighty-years-old.”

Pete laughed, “She’s stronger than she looks, and these girls were made to withstand this sort of thing, come on.”

Deciding to trust his judgment, she took his hand and jumped up to the wing at the same time as he pulled her up, causing extra momentum which propelled her body into his.

He caught them on the edge of the cockpit, and after a second, she realized that she was pressed up against his body, both hands resting against his…very solid chest.

She prayed that her suddenly pounding heart and the burning flush on her cheeks could be discounted as a reaction to her stumble.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, scrambling back to put some distance between them for her sanity’s sake, while trying not to fall off either wing edge.

“Eh,” he waved off, “that’s my fault, I should have said I’d pull you up,” as he shifted to kneel on the wing. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied breezily, “I believe you were about to show me the controls?”

“Mm-hmm, come here.”

They slowly adjusted themselves into a configuration that enabled them both to see into the cockpit, and he pointed out the many gauges—explaining each one—and the literal stick stick, which looked nothing like the controls of any aircraft she’d seen in person or in the movies, as well as her general flight capabilities and technical specifications.

A further glance to the right showed something she didn’t expect to see. “I thought the P-51 was a single seat aircraft?”

Pete absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck, “They are—I made a… few modifications.”

“Oh.”

“You want to sit in her?” he offered, gesturing to the pilot’s seat.

She was not about to pass up an opportunity like that. “I—wh—sure!”

He carefully helped her into the cockpit, and once settled, she breathed in and out while she absorbed this moment, and imagined her granduncle sitting in a seat similar to this one, looking out at the boundless sky. “Wow,” she reverently murmured.

“I know, right?”

“This is amazing, that aircraft like this is still around and still flying, I mean—this is history,” she said, getting slightly emotional.

“It is; she is.”

After a few beats longer, she sighed, and reached for his hand so she could get out, and he carefully eased her out of the cockpit, onto the wing, then both of them back onto the ground.

“Thank you, for showing me around, this was really helpful, Pete, I think this really helped me.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded easily. “If I may ask, what kind of book are you writing?”

For the briefest second, she instinctively recoiled from the idea of telling the story, but then, some part of her heart said that Pete Mitchell was someone she could tell this story to. “It’s uh, a fictional version of my granduncle Joe’s love story; he was a P-51 pilot during World War II, and he was in love with a woman in the French Resistance named Céline.” She turned to look at Bianca’s gleaming fuselage. “But they both died in the war; she was killed by the Germans, and he got shot down saving his wingman soon after.

I never even knew until my first year of college, when my grandfather told me the story through the love letters my granduncle and Céline wrote.

When my grandfather was dying, I told him that I wished they had a happy ending, and… well, he told me to write it for them, since I was an English major.

So here I am,” she shrugged, turning to face Pete.

He looked grave and touched. “That’s… that’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, I have to admit, I’ve wondered if what I was doing was disrespectful.”

“I know quite a few people who deserved happy endings that didn’t get them,” he glanced into the distance, a wistful, pained look in his eyes. “If I can help at least two people who didn’t have their happy endings in this world get it somehow, I’m more than willing to help.”

She sincerely replied, “Thank you for the validation,” wondering what his story was.

“You’re welcome.

And uh… you know what?

Gimme a second.”

He leapt back onto the P-51’s wing, and rummaged through the cockpit, pulling out a flight log book and a pen, hastily writing something on a page, before he tore it out, and leapt back down.

“Here, it’s my number—if you had any more questions, feel free to call, I’d be happy to answer them.”

If she had been placed in a similar situation as this maybe twenty years ago, she’d have probably done something to embarrass herself, because this—things like this didn’t happen to her—they only happened in movies, but here she was.

He gave her his number—yes, it was if she had any research questions, but still.

‘Get a grip, woman, just because you didn’t see a ring doesn’t mean he isn’t in a relationship,’ she told herself, trying to project “Respectable Professional Woman”, while her inner adolescent was trying its level best to come out.

“Th—thank you,” she managed to get out, with only a minute stammer on the first syllable.

“I’m serious, call if you need anything—I mean—there’s not a lot of people out there who can tell you what it’s like to actually fly one of these beauties.”

“Be careful,” she chuckled, already determined not to call unless it was absolutely dire, “You don’t know if I might take you up on that offer.”

“It’s what I gave you my number for,” Pete winked, and she commended herself for keeping it together.

Deciding to quit while she was ahead, and while she still seemed like a normal human being, she came in for final approach, as her dad would put it, with, “Alright—I better go, I’ve already taken too much of your time.”

“It’s fine, it’s always a pleasure to talk to someone about this girl.”

“Thank you again,” she stated, honestly grateful, feeling the creative juices flowing and simmering in the background.

“You’re welcome.”

And with that, she walked away, exhaling evenly for so many reasons.

That night, she wrote and wrote just as she expected, and the story was flowing.

That is, until she hit another wall just before the next weekend.

And this one was even more stubborn than the first.

It didn’t help that she had written herself into a corner with this dogfight scene she was on—she had no way of knowing if the tactics were sound, and she was thinking of completely cutting it, but it seemed so stilted without it, and she had no idea of how to avoid writing this scene.

But one part of that thought, she realized, wasn’t true.

Her gaze landed on her coffee table.

The sheet of flight log paper with ten numbers written on them stared tauntingly back at her, daring her to call Pete.

“Nope, no, I am not going to do it,” she told herself. “No—absolutely not.

I’m sure he has better things to do than answer stupid questions.

No—I will not call him.”

The paper raised a nonexistent eyebrow.

“No!” was her battle cry, and she turned back to her laptop screen, but it offered no relief.

The depressing reality of her blinking, unmoving cursor cackled at her in harmony with the flight log paper.

It was like that healthy cereal ad from years ago, with the little girl in a prim uniform, enticingly calling “Donuts?”

However, after ten more minutes, the dictatorship of the blank page grew too cruel and harsh, and she folded like a house of whatever was more insubstantial than cards.

“Fine,” she muttered, snatching up the paper. “I’ll call, but if he doesn’t answer, it’s no skin off my back—I’ll manage… somehow.”

At least that’s what she told herself.

She dialed the number, heart pounding as the phone rang…

And rang…

And rang.

She was just about to breathe a sigh of conflicted relief and hang up, but then the line clicked, and she heard a slightly breathless “Pete Mitchell.”

“Hi,” she blinked, cursing herself for not thinking through what she was going to say. “I don’t know if you remember me, we met at the Apple Valley Airshow—”

“__, right?

The writer.”

“Yeah, that’s me, you said I could call if I had any questions,” she scratched her head.

“Uh-huh.

I’m guessing you have one,” she could hear the smile in his voice.

“More like a lot, really.

I’ve unfortunately written myself into a corner, it’s this dogfight scene, and there’s no way I can currently remove it without sacrificing practically all of my progress since last week.

I just need to know if the tactics are sound.”

“Huh.”

“I—you know, I can figure it out myself, if it’s too much trouble—”

He interrupted, “No, it’s no trouble, I’m more than willing to help, in fact… uh, this might sound—weird and uncomfortable—or—both, really, but if you want, why don’t you come out to my hangar tomorrow, we can talk about this, rework your scene if we need to, without having to do video calls or text or email.”

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes wide.

“I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything,” he chuckled.

“I—thank you for the reassurance, by the way—but I mean, that’s a lot of confidence in how well I can write a dogfight.”

“It can’t be all that bad,” he assured.

“I’ll just prepare to be ripped to shreds,” she half-teasingly replied.

Pete snorted. “Even if it were that bad, I wouldn’t rip it to shreds—I save that for my new students.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know what’s worse, being torn apart or the porcelain treatment.”

“How about a balance, then?”

“I’d be very happy with that.”

“So… is that a yes to coming out to my hangar?”

“I… suppose it is,” she replied, before she could convince herself otherwise.

She was a mature, responsible adult, and she was capable of being said mature, responsible adult.

(And if time permitted, she was even capable of looking respectfully, when he wasn’t watching.)

(She was only human, after all.)

“Perfect, I’ll send you the address; I have to warn you, it’ll probably be a bit of a drive, is that okay?”

“That’s fine, after all, where else will I find someone with experience flying the P-51?”

“You could always try the local VFW post,” he joked.

“What are the odds my local VFW has a former P-51 pilot?

I’ll go with the expert I’ve already met.”

“Alright, alright, I already agreed to help, no need to butter me up,” he lightly said, humorously.

“Just send the address,” was her amused response.

And that was how she found herself on US-395 North making the three-and-a-half hour drive from her apartment in San Bernardino to the Mojave, praying that she wouldn’t somehow make a fool of herself today.

To be continued…

Next Part

Was part of this story inspired by Atonement?

Maybe.

I didn’t really have the movie in mind when I wrote the plot device, but I realized the similarity after the fact.

Analog flight computer

USAAF

Band of Brothers

The Apple Valley Airshow takes place every year in the town of Apple Valley, located in San Bernardino, California.

(I considered setting this story at the annual Miramar Airshow, which takes place at MCAS (formerly NAS) Miramar, but I imagine that Mav would probably want to avoid going to MCAS Miramar for obvious reasons.)

Roundel

I don’t think that most pilots would do very daring aerobatic stunts in a plane as old as the P-51, just because she’s a darn P-51, and she’s a flying piece of history, but this is Mav, he absolutely knows what his girl can handle, I’m sure he knows how to make something look more crazy than it actually is, and bottom line, let’s just suspend our disbelief, 😂.

Did I introduce Mav in that way just so I could use that gif?

Probably absolutely.

It’s a great shot, and I do not blame me.

“You in danger, girl.” Timestamp 1:35

All the information about the P-51 is taken from the information available about the model and history/registration of Tom’s P-51, except for the details of her name and the military flight logs being missing, as the history available for N51EW never mentions if she saw actual WWII combat.

She is registered in the FAA database with the serial number 44-12840, and her name since 2006 has been “Kiss Me Kate”.

(I know why she’s named this, and it hits something in my heart that Tom never bothered to rename her.)

Her name in this story will be explained later, but those who follow me on my main blog, @oh-great-authoress, might have a hunch as to why I named the P-51 “Bianca”.

The ad I mentioned was a real Kellogg’s Special K ad.

VFW

The travel time between San Bernardino and Mav’s hangar is estimated using the travel time from San Bernardino to NAWS China Lake, and then a further hour and twenty minutes from there.

Taglist

@valmare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

#not me 👀 at men literally old enough to be my father #but my reader DEFINITELY is—and he’s not old enough to be HER father #bahaha 🤣#top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun: maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun: maverick fic #top gun maverick fic #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #tom cruise

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whohasthecards · 2 years ago

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Top Gun AU Idea -- Jake is Mav's son and grew up in foster care.

Jake only has a beat up picture of his dad and that his name was "Pete". He didn't know his mother at all, not even his birth certificate. He was abandoned and whoever abandoned him made sure that his lineage would never be traced.

He figured out who his father was during his first time in Top Gun.

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

He also found out that his father was married to the COMPACFLT.

He didn't need a father anymore, right? And he wouldn't want to break up a family in his desperate attempt to maybe gain one. His father probably didn't know he existed. Hell, his father could even be the one that abandoned him (although why he would leave the picture makes that theory unlikely).

However, he did want to meet the one of the Navy's top pilots. It's all professional curiousity.

(He was in the same profession as his father, aviation is in his blood.)

He will become the best.

Maybe he'd meet Maverick once he's on top.

During his first air combat kill, Iceman was the one to shake his hand. The admiral gave him a clap on his shoulder and congratulated him.

The mission occured.

As a person, Maverick was not who he expected him to be.

As a pilot, Maverick was the best.

He was numb when Maverick and Rooster were shot down.

He never felt more alive and scared when he pushed his jet to save them.

He turned and walked away when he saw Rooster and Maverick hug it out, confirming his suspicions during training.

Rooster was Maverick's son, in every way that matters.

Blood doesn't matter, heck there isn't even a blood test that proves that Jake was his son. Only a battered photo with scripted handwriting.

Jake should let go.

After the mission, Dagger squad becomes a permanent squadron with Maverick as team leader.

Maverick got along with every single Dagger just fine, but there was an awkwardness between Hangman and himself that neither knew how to bridge. Mav never did know how to act around people who was just like himself.

Maverick acts paternal and caring to everybody, especially Bradley, and Jake had to swallow the growing jealousy (I don't need him, I don't need him, I don't need--). Why did everyone get a family and a Mav that would look their way for more than 10 seconds?

Why did Rooster get everything he ever wanted?

What did he do or not do that made him deserve this crippling feeling of jealousy and loneliness?

#fanfic #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fandom #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #pete maverick mitchell #mavdad #tom iceman kazansky #bradley rooster bradshaw #hangman angst #angst #word vomit very very word vomitty I kinda want to make it better but I dont have the time so have this word vomit of angst #but yeah in this AU Mav is Jake's dad but he doesnt know and the mother gave Jake up and managed to erase herself from existance #wanna make this angstier but brain not braining and time not timing and wanna post #guys I love hearing your thoughts send them my way

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kathrahender · 8 months ago

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This is the actual fic, the other post was the background story to understand this better. This is the second part (2/2), if you want to read the first part (1/2), read the previous post.

Eventually, Tom Kazanky and Pete Mitchell met in Top Gun, but they were a little more hostile towards each other. After all, Tom always saw Konstantin's hurt expression when people mentioned Duke Mitchell, and Pete always saw the pain and betrayal in Duke's eyes when he heard the name "Konstantin Kazansky". Iceman and Maverick's rivalry was similar to the movie, except that the hate they felt for each other was more obvious than in the movie. Their jokes actually meant to hurt the other, and every time they criticized the other, they were meaner than in the canon.

But- like in every Top Gun AU, Iceman became more compassionate after Goose's death, and although Iceman didn't like Mitchell's family, seeing how damaged Maverick was made him realize that he was hating Maverick for the wrong reasons. It wasn't because he was a bad pilot, it was because Duke was his father, and he couldn't stand that. But the pain in his eyes made him think Maverick didn't deserve to pay for Duke's bad actions. That's why he stood by his side. First he was just a teammate who supported him, but after Layton's mission, they became wingmen. The same year they decided to teach at Top Gun together, and they became more than allies or wingmen. They became friends.

At some moment, Maverick realize Iceman made him feel things he didn't feel with his past girlfriends, not even Penny or Charlie. When he saw Iceman at Top Gun, he couldn't help but smile. When Iceman smiled at him during a lesson, it warmed his heart. When some days Iceman decided to stay at his home, and he woke up screaming and crying in his bed, Iceman held him and it made him feel safe. Iceman was always there for him. To help him. To protect him. To catch him when he fell apart. Every time, Tom was there, saying with and without words "I'm here, I'm not going to leave you". So it wasn't a surprise when he realized he liked Iceman (or even loved because his feelings towards him were so intense).

Maverick repressed his feelings, because after all that happened between them, after all the rivalry, after Goose's death, and after Iceman supported him when he needed more help, he wouldn't bear losing him. He knew Iceman was straight, and if he told him he felt something for him, he would leave him, like everyone else (except his father). And he already lost his mother, Goose, Carole and Bradley. He couldn't lose Iceman too. What he didn't expect was how hard it would be to hold back his feelings. A lot of times he avoided Iceman, pretending he was busy with Top Gun's work, because he didn't want him to know the truth. How could he look at his face and say "I like you"? Iceman was his wingman and his friend, but nothing assured him that Iceman wouldn't leave him if he found out he was in love with a guy. Much less if he himself was that guy.

One day, in the afternoon, Iceman knocked at the door of his house, and although Maverick wanted to tell him to get out, he let him in. They stood silent for a moment, and Maverick expected Iceman yelling at him or being angry for ignoring him, but he didn't do that. He talked to him nicely, with a soft tone, like always. And he could deal with Iceman being angry, but Ice was there, looking at him with concern and pain, not forcing him to say anything, holding his arm or wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He got up to stay away from him, trying to hold back his emotions, because he couldn't bear it. It was Iceman's hand in his shoulder and him saying "I'm here for you, Mav, for anything" what broke him. He almost fell to the ground, nearly having a panic attack, but like always, Iceman was there to catch him, to comfort him. Maverick clung to him, as if he was a lifeline. He knew it was probably the last time Iceman would hug him, and he knew Iceman would abandon him, but during that moment, he imagined Iceman staying with him, he imagined he wouldn't be shattered in pieces after Tom left him.

After a few minutes, he slightly got away from Iceman, keeping his hands in his waist, while Iceman was holding his face in his hands, wiping away the tears. "What's happening, Pete?". Maverick closed his eyes, and he muttured, trembling. "I love you". Iceman got paralyzed, and Maverick felt tears in his eyes again "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ice" he said. Before he could see Iceman looking at him with anger, hate or disgust, he went to his bedroom, but Iceman stopped him, hugging him from behind. "You idiot. You don't have to be sorry. You're not mentally ill and you're not disgusting, Maverick" he held him tighter, and when he heard the following Iceman's words, he sobbed. "I'm your wingman, Pete, I will never leave you. And I will always be here for you. I love you too, Mav"

After that, and even after knowing their life would be hard, they decided to be together. They only lived once, and they wouldn't be cowards and let go of each other. Although they would have to hide from the society, and act like friends in front of everyone, their life would be harder if they weren't dating.

Years later, when people knew the truth about Duke's "betrayal", and when the Navy finally allowed them to date people of their same gender, Iceman and Maverick could finally have their happy ending, and Duke and Konstantin couldn't be more happy for them, because their sons were enough strong and brave to fight for their love, and they succeeded.

Additional information about the fic.

Duke is still considered a traitor because Pete needs to be the same Maverick he was in the movie, and that can only happen if the name "Mitchell" still means "problems" and he is not accepted in Annapolis. He's seen as "the son of a traitor", that's why Goose is his only friend here too.

In this AU, Maverick's mother still dies (when he's... 10 years old more or less), so Pete is raised by his father. Almost the same thing happens to Iceman, because her mother also died when he was a kid.

Iceman doesn't have siblings. Sarah is one of his friends, but she isn't his biological sister.

When talking about people leaving Maverick, he mentioned Carole and Bradley because he is convinced they left him and not the place that reminded them of Goose (after Goose's death, Carole decided to move to another city because she couldn't bear being in Miramar without Goose. She didn't do that because she blamed Maverick for Goose's death and wanted to stay away from him)

With them having a happy ending, I mean them having a happy ending. So I'm just ggnna pretend that Top Gun Maverick's scene didn't happen.

#top gun #top gun 1986 #icemav #iceman x maverick #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #iceman kazansky #top gun iceman #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #maverick mitchell #top gun maverick

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lovelytsunoda · 2 months ago

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love is a losing game | Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Part VI - Always Remember Us This Way

Chapter Summary: Jessie goes to visit Jake in the hospital. After listening to the recordings on his wire, she takes things into her own hands and tracks down Bradley Bradshaw.

Chapter Warnings: More g*n violence, a little more questionable policing (but this time it's for a good cause). Jessie stands up for the man she fell in love with (and keeps a bulletproof vest in the trunk of her sports car!)

Author's Notes: I'm getting a second wind after watching the Bosch:Legacy s3 trailer. Why did I have to get so attached to a show with about 5 people in its fandom?

Series Masterlist

Jessica Seresin was mad at her husband.

Really goddamn mad. She’d broken four traffic laws and two speed limits, sirens blaring as she drove from Culver City to the hospital in Beverly Hills. First, she was going to make sure that her husband was alive.

And then she was going to throttle him.

“Hi, Detective Jessica Seresin, LAPD. A man was brought in with a bullet wound earlier this afternoon. Can you tell me what room he’s in?” She flashed her badge at reception, knowing full well that her frazzled appearance didn’t quite match up with the calm and collected detective in her identification photo.

She couldn’t hate him. The man had said it himself before they fell back into bed with each other that afternoon: he was doing it so that they could have the life Jessie had always dreamed about. How funny that just over an hour ago, they were lying naked in their queen bed, and now Pete Mitchell had taken a chunk out of his shoulder.

Not that Jake hadn’t deserved it. Because he had.

She flashed her badge at the sheriff’s deputy sitting outside Jake’s room, steeling herself for the very real possibility that the father of her child was considered a flight risk and handcuffed to the hospital bed.

Jessie wasn’t prepared for the lurch in her gut when she saw Jake’s pale face, eyes closed, and appendages connected to monitors. There were no handcuffs, but she knew that probably just meant that he was in such rough shape that he wouldn’t be leaving the bed of his own accord any time soon.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She hummed, sitting in the plastic hair next to him, one hand resting on his pale face. “How did we get here? What happened to the good Catholic boy that I married?”

Jake laughed, immediately regretting it as he felt the pain spread across his chest. “He left after I joined the force. I’m so sorry, Jessica. I never meant for it to go this far. I was going to turn him in, I swear to God. I just needed a bit more evidence.”

“That doesn’t matter now. What matters to me is that you’re still alive.” She ran her fingers over his cheek, subconsciously mapping out his face with her touch. She knew this was the end of the road.

There was no way out except federal prison.

“Where’s Rosie?”

“She’s still at Sophie’s. Greg is on his way home, she’ll be safe. I put in a call to Garcia, he’s got a patrol unit on standby at the top of their street.” Sophie’s husband, Greg Tran, was a California state trooper and a recreational sharpshooter. If Bradley went anywhere near Greg and Sophie’s, she knew that Greg would protect his niece with all the firepower at his disposal.

Rosie couldn’t be in safer hands.

There was a knock at the door, Pete Mitchell standing leisurely in the doorway. There was plaster dust in his hair, and a small cut above his nose. Jessie wondered if he had come straight to the hospital after calling her. She and Mitchell had a long history, one that couldn’t just be erased overnight, even if Pete did shoot her husband.

“Thanks for bringing him home, Pete.”

Pete sighed. “It’s not over yet, Jessie. Bradley Bradshaw is in the wind. I want uniformed officers outside of your house, and there are already two outside of Jake's hospital room. I know you already sent a unit to your sister-in-law’s, but we can’t be too safe here.”

Jessie cast a nervous glance to her husband, waiting for Jake to reassure her that everything would be fine.

“Jess,” Jake rasped, grasping her hand. “Take five. Go get something to eat. I want to talk to Pete for a second.”

Jessie swallowed, nodding solemnly. “Okay. I’ll be just down the hall.”

She grabbed her purse, weakly squeezing Pete’s arm as she exited the hospital room. Pete took the chair she had just vacated, staring at Jake. The rage that Pete felt was at more than the way that Bradshaw and Seresin had abused the system.

It was at the way that Jake hurt Jessica, blew up his family. Now, Jessie would have to raise a baby on his own, and a little girl was going to lose her father.

“I’m going to jail. Even with a plea. And it’s going to be very hard on Jessica.” Jake said, point blank. “She’s going to insist that she’s fine, but she will need help. She can’t go back to Santa Clarita, because then she’s going to lose custody of Rosie, and with everything we went through to have a baby, losing Rosie would kill her. It’s risky enough as is with her history of cardiomyopathy. I need to you to look out for her while I’m inside.”

Pete sighed. “I talked to Mickey Garcia before I came to see Jessie. He told me everything.”

Jake bit his lip. “The last few years have been rough. I won’t lie to you. For the longest time, we didn’t think we could get pregnant, and as far as the doctors were concerned, it was my fault. The fuck kind of man was I if I couldn’t give my wife a baby? We tried almost non-stop for a year, and then the pregnancy was so hard on Jessica. Pete, everything I have done has been out of desperation. You have to believe me. I didn’t kill Alexandra Pilcher. That was all Bradley. Jessica was in the second trimester, having some trouble sleeping. When I went out that night, I told her it was to pick up some things she had been craving during the day. When I saw what Bradley was doing to Alex, it made me physically sick. And for the first time, I was genuinely scared of him. There’s something boiling under the surface with Bradley Bradshaw. Something dark, and something dangerous. I wanted to turn him in, but that’s when he started threatening Jessie. The things he said about her, Pete, and the things he said about my baby. He had me over a barrel.”

“Where would he go? If you can give me that, the judge can consider it at sentencing. You might stand a chance of getting out to see your daughter finish high school.”

Jake shook his head. “I’ve got more. I wore a wire. Everything on there was obtained illegally, but it’s enough to prove that that he was the ringleader. Jessie knows where it is.”

Pete repeated the question. “Where is he, Jake? Because until we find him, your wife and daughter are in danger.”

“Marina Del Rey. There was one guy who couldn’t pay us.” Jake swallowed. “Bradley cajoled him into giving us the keys to his yacht. He’s gonna take it and go to Mexico. You have to get to the marina before he leaves.”

________

“Son of a bitch!” Jessie shouted, kicking the vending machine after it ate her five-dollar bill and refused to spit out a Calypso lemonade. She’d texted Sophie with updates but had yet to call her own parents.

She should have known something was wrong. If her mind hadn’t been so preoccupied and addled, she would have noticed what was wrong with the man she shared her bed with. The thumb drive was heavy in her pocket, and she’d spent the car ride trying to erase what she had both read and heard.

The text messages were vile enough, but listening to the sheer brutality of Bradley’s rage, and the way he beat up innocent people made her stomach turn. She understood why Jake did what he had. Bradley was a manipulator, and he had the aggressive behavior to imply that he would make good on his threats.

Pete came up behind her, his hand heavy on her shoulder. Wordlessly, he stepped around her, putting another fiver in the machine and purchasing the lemonade for Jessie.

“I’m sick of people I care about ending up in hospital beds.” Jessie spoke quietly. “Detective Johnson. Tom. My gran. How didn’t I notice?”

“You just had a baby, Jessica. You can’t expect to be able to do everything for everyone anymore. Be gentle with yourself.” Pete encouraged, a hand on her back. “Every cop in the city is looking for Bradshaw, the state troopers are setting up checkpoints out of state. Jake seems to think that he would have gone to Marina Del Rey.”

“That’s where we got married!” Jess sobbed. “Is nothing sacred anymore? This is all my fault. If I had been more coherent, and able to regulate my feelings, we’d have been able to pay the mortgage-“

“Detective Jessica Seresin,” Pete’s voice was stern. “You listen to me. None of this was your fault. None. If its anybody’s, it’s Bradley Bradshaw's.”

Jessie nodded, wiping at her eyes as she reached into the small pocket of her purse. Ignoring the pain in her chest, she passed Harry the thumb drive. “Everything is on here. Pete, it’s fucking vile. The things he said he’d do to me, and the things he said he’d do to Rosie. Bradshaw had the house basically stalked. There are pictures of me in the bathtub on there. I don’t even know where he got them.”

“We’re going to get him, Jessie.”

“I want to come with you.” Jessie stated firmly. The pain in her chest was giving way to rage, and she didn’t want to tamp that down. She wanted to harness it and direct it at the person who deserved it the most. Her whole body itched to do something. Anything. “That son of a bitch blew up my family, and I’m making sure he gets what’s coming to him.”

Harry frowned. “Jessica, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Was it a good idea when I helped you track a murder suspect to a fucking island? No! Was it a good idea when I followed you to a private airfield to stop a government plane because you were convinced a Taiwanese diplomat killed your ex-wife? Hell no! Was it a good idea when –“

“Enough! That was different. You didn’t have a kid to look after when all of that happened.”

“You did. I know she was older, but she’d lost her mom, Pete. What if she had lost you as well?”

Pete sighed, leaning against the white hospital wall, flicking the USB open and closed in his palm. “Go spend the time you have left with your husband, Jessica. You know as well as I do that he’s going away for a long time. You should say your goodbyes now. I’m sorry.”

With that to say, Pete turned around and started walking away. Away from the Seresins, away from responsibility. This fight was as personal to him as it was to Jessica. One way or another, justice would be served.

Even if justice meant sending Bradley Bradshaw home in a body bag.

The tightness in Jessie’s chest was back, constricting her lungs. She doubled over, sitting on an hard chair left next to the coffee machine. Surely Pete didn’t expect her just to sit around and do nothing. When Pete was in a similar situation, he didn’t sit around, he started an off the books investigation into an FBI task force. This would be much more by-the-book.

And she wanted the satisfaction of looking Bradley Bradshaw in the eyes while they hauled his ass off to Victorville.

It was the least she could do for Jake after what he had done for her and Rosie.

Fueled by anger and a new steely resolve for God knows what, Jessie clutched the keys to her Volkswagen so tightly that the keyring ate into the skin on her palm. Sliding into the driver’s seat, she set her navigation system for Marina Del Rey. Unimpressed with the time Apple Maps was giving her, she did up her seatbelt and threw on the sirens. The hand radio in her cupholder was dialed into the same frequency as the black-and-white patrol cars, and she was ready to change course the second there was a confirmed sighting of Detective Bradshaw somewhere other than the Marina.

She was going to make that man so sorry he ever hard the name Jessica Seresin.

The drive, which should have taken exactly twenty-seven minutes took Jessica just over seventeen, speeding down streets with a reckless abandon that would have shocked her to see when she was younger and still learning. Of course, the immunity that the emergency sirens gave her was a bonus. She didn’t bother parking, the bar lights acting better than blinkers as she pulled to a stop next to a uniform Ford Explorer. She didn’t see Pete’s Jeep, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here.

Sitting in the Marina parking lot, she did four rounds of box breathing before popping another Ativan and reaching inside the glove box for her service weapon. After making sure the pistol was loaded, she strapped it to her belt and popped open the trunk.

“Excuse me!” a voice shouted from behind her. “Who are you?”

Jessie looked up, meeting eyes with a young patrol officer in tactical gear. The tag over her heart read “Mitchell”.

It was Pete’s daughter.

“Detective Jessica Seresin. Auto theft.”

Riley looked at her, head tilted slightly. “You worked with my dad. You’re Jake Seresin's wife.”

“I am.” Jessie hoisted her bulletproof vest out of the trunk, pulling it over her head. “And the son of a bitch in there is single handedly responsible for blowing up my life, so it’s time for me to take a page out of your dad’s book and handle this myself.”

Riley nodded stoically, reaching for her own holster. “I take it I can’t stop you.”

“Nobody could.” Jessie didn’t wait for an answer, pushing past Riley Mitchell and into the Marina. “Bradley Bradshaw?” She shouted, firing a warning shot into the deck under her feet. “Get your ass out here!”

She caught movement in the corner of her eye. The rocking of a yacht badly tethered. She looked behind her, at Riley and her partner Vasquez, before nodding silent orders. Each uniformed officer split up, making their way to the yacht from a different side.

“Bradshaw, it’s the end of the road!” Jessie called. “Jake gave you up. He was wearing a wire, and he’s trying to cut a deal. Did you really think you could threaten our daughter and get away with it? That you could threaten me, and he’d take it lying down?”

She heard gunfire, ducking instinctively despite the lack of danger. Muffled shouts followed the shot, and Jessie tracked them to the yacht. She could see Bradley on the deck, gun in hand as he shot at someone else, the other person returning fire lightning sharp. A figure dressed in black stood across the pier, and Jessie bit her lip to stop from cursing.

It was Pete fucking Mitchell.

#love is a losing game series #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #hangman x reader #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun fanfic #top gun hangman #jake seresin

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filmtv2022 · 2 years ago

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Moving Foward: Chapter 1 (18+ MDNI)

Next Chapter

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Kazansky!Reader

Summary: Y/N Kazansky is many things. A loyal daughter, a world-class fighter pilot, and a fierce protector of those she holds most dear. But beyond the shiny exterior is a wounded woman looking to find her way back to the life she'd known and loved. When a mission brings her back to Top Gun, she is forced to confront the sins of her past while focusing on the uncertain future falling into place in front of her.

Warnings: Nothing really for this first chapter, but later installments will certainly be 18+.

Word Count: 1, 979

A/N: The idea for this story kind of came as a surprise to me, but I knew that couldn't let it go once it took root in my mind. I hope that you all enjoy this first chapter, and I promise there will be more Bradley moments very soon. I'm excited for their relationship to change and grow as the story progresses. I make no promises on how quickly I will update this story, but I hope that you'll stick with me as I get back into my writing flow. Additionally, I apologize for any and all mistakes.

The Southern California sunset kissed your skin, the warmth radiating down to your bones. Pulling off your helmet, you locked it in the top box of your motorcycle before striding across the parking lot toward the Hardeck. A familiar bike was parked a few spots away, the sight of it brought a flurry of emotions. The bar wasn’t yet crowded, and the faint sound of the jukebox poured out into the world as you threw open the front door.

Carefully you pulled the aviators from your face, hanging them by a bow on your bomber jacket. The leather was filled to the brim with patches, each one a physical reminder of the job that consumed your life. Glancing around the sparsely populated bar, it took no time to find the person you were looking for, his focus concentrated on the cell phone in his hand. Closing the distance between you and the older man, you couldn’t help but make yourself known.

“You struggling to read that phone old man?”

Maverick’s head snapped up to find the voice that had just spoken to him, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening as a wide smile spread across his face. Standing up to greet you, his strong arms pulled you into a hug before holding you at arm’s length and giving you a once-over.

“Y/N Kazansky, my God look at you!”

“Pete Mitchell, how the hell are you? I kinda can’t believe he managed to get you back here. You must’ve royally fucked up this time.”

Breathing a laugh through his nose, Mav took a moment before responding, “Yeah, well… your father’s very persuasive. And they are called orders for a reason.”

“That is very true.”

“Now, here’s the real question, how are you feeling?” Maverick’s green eyes were serious as he captured your hands in his and guided you both down onto seats at the bar.

“Cleared to fly, so there’s that,” wanting nothing more than avoid this topic, you averted your gaze from his.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Don’t give me that look, Mav. What do you want me to say?”

“It’s the only one I’ve got, and I want you to answer my question. No bullshit.”

“I feel fine, Uncle Pete. The Navy says I’m good, so I'm good. Can we please not talk about this right now?”

“All right, we can do that.”

“Thank you,” inhaling deeply you sat back on your seat, “I missed you ya know.”

“Missed you too kid. Can I even call you that anymore?”

“Only if I can keep calling you ‘old man’ ”

The tension began to fall away allowing for easy conversation to flow. Several minutes passed before someone returned to the bar to take your order, their surprised voice cut directly into the story Pete was telling.

“Jesus, a Mitchell, and a Kazansky are sitting at my bar. What the hell did I do to deserve this?”

Looking up, you couldn’t help but smirk at the woman standing before you, “Come on now, Penny. You wound me, when have I ever caused a problem?

“Oh, it’s not you I’m worried about, it’s that one,” gesturing to Pete with the glass in her hand she continued to speak as she wiped down the countertop “Better judgment seems to disappear when he’s around.”

“Can’t argue with that,” you and Penny shared a laugh at Maverick’s expense, his scoff audible.

“Here ya go, Lieutenant,” Penny slid a tall glass of what had always been your favorite beer across the bar, letting it come to rest in front of you.

“Uhh… thanks, Pen, but can I just get some ice water?”

“Sure,” her eyebrows knitted together at your request. Penny and Maverick shared a look as she turned to fill up a glass with water. A question was clearly written over her features but now wasn’t the time to discuss it. Knowing this, Mav shook his head ‘no’ nearly imperceptibly. He knew why there had been a change, and that you’d share when and if you were ready.

“There ya go,” a fresh glass of ice water sat on the counter in front of you now, a slice of lime hanging on the rim as the sides already started to form condensation.

“So, Pete, what are you doing here?” Penny’s eyes narrowed as she assessed him, her gaze leaving no room for escape.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Feeling the shift in conversation you decided this was your moment to exit, there would be plenty of time in the coming weeks to catch up with your godfather, “All right, I’m gonna take this as my sign to go. Have a great night you two. Oh and Penny, don’t be afraid to ring that bell.”

With your drink in hand, you slipped off the stool and headed toward the pool tables, determined to snag one of the high tops before the rest of the evening rush hit the bar. Golden light continued to melt into the space warming the leather seats closest to the windows. The heat was just enough to be felt through your jeans as you pulled yourself up into the high chair. It’d been a long time since you’d been home in San Diego, and it was nights like this with the perfect temperature and blue sky painted in bold oranges and pinks that made you nostalgic for a time in your life when things were simpler. A time when death seemed like a far-off concept.

Sipping the cool water, you tried to focus on the roll of the waves against the shore. The rhythm settled your heartbeat with each wash over the sand. Lost in the beauty, you missed the sound of approaching steps, it was only the loud boom of his voice that yanked you from your peaceful daydream.

“Is that Y/N Kazansky? Look here Coyote, it’s a shining example of nepotism in the wild.” turning to look at his friend, he started to speak again before looking back at you, “You cleared to fly yet, Riot? Or did the Navy finally decide to ground your ass for good?”

“Leave me alone, Seresin.”

“Oh come on, sweetheart. I’m just askin’ the question we all want to know.”

“Fuck you, Bagman.”

“Oh, don’t be bitter… I’m just speakin’ the truth.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit,” fully over this interaction, you made to leave, on your way out you heard Hangman’s voice rise over the crowd once more. Yet again, insulting fellow aviators. It seemed to be the only way he knew how to speak.

“What do we have here? If it ain’t Phoenix. And here I thought we were special, Coyote. Turns out the invite went to anyone.”

Choosing to ignore the conversation unfolding back at the pool table, you continued to make your exit. A quick stop at the bar to drop off your glass and then you were on your way out officially. The warm air flooded around you as your boots hit the gravel. Not wanting to stop, you kept your eyes down focusing solely on the crunch of the stones beneath your feet. You were almost back to your bike when the sound of music blasting from a car radio yanked your attention back up. Your heart stuttered in your chest at the sight before you.

Frozen in place you watched as Bradley Bradshaw threw his Bronco into park and flung open the door. His Hawaiian shirt fluttered in the wind as he slammed the door behind himself. From a distance, it was easy to stare, to take in the way that time had changed the man you once knew even better than yourself. It was easy to forget for a second just how much had happened, just how broken the pair of you had become.

Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you waited until Bradley had disappeared inside the building. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be returning anytime soon, you grabbed your helmet and prepared to ride. The engine grumbled life below you, and in a matter of seconds, you powered your way out of the lot.

The ride home was short, but even so, it flew by in record time. Whether that was due to your speed or lack of concentration... it’d be difficult to know. The light in the kitchen could be seen as you walked up to the front door. Pushing it open, you followed the glow. And there she sat, her face in her hands staring down at the papers on the table.

“Hey, Mom. Everything okay?”

Startling, her light brown curls bounced, her hand flying up to clutch her chest, “Oh, Jesus Y/N you scared me. Yeah, everything is fine sweetie. Just some bills.”

Standing quickly, she pushed back from the table, taking the papers with her. Her slippers scuffed lightly over the wood floor as she busied herself, refolding the towel in front of the oven multiple times before moving to unload the dishwasher.

“You’re home early. Did you have a nice time with your uncle? How was he?”

“It was good, yeah. He seemed anxious to be back here, but he’s doin’ good,” your body sagged at the memory of how the evening had actually turned out.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, honey?”

“I’m fine, just a little tired. Is umm… is dad still up?”

“No, sweetheart, he went to bed a while ago.”

“Oh, okay,” taking a pause you let your emotions settle for a second, “I’ll just talk to him later I guess.”

“You know you can always talk to me, right?”

“I know, Mom,” pulling her in tight for a hug, you inhaled deeply taking in the smell of her perfume. The floral sweetness enveloped your sense, easing the tension in your shoulders a little, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You let go of the hug first, dropping the hold on your mother, and giving her a kiss on the temple before moving away down the hall to the stairs. The steps were steady under your feet as your hand slid up the banister. One step at a time you reached the landing, and turned left toward the room that had been yours since childhood.

With the door closed firmly, you practically fell down onto the worn mattress. Your back burned with a dull ache, while the throbbing in your left knee and hip pulsed more acutely. The pain had become your constant companion. In the darkness of the unlit room, it was difficult to see beyond tonight, beyond the hurt, beyond the nightmares that sat just out of sight, but you’d made a promise. A promise to keep going. Tomorrow would be a new day, a fresh chance to find your way back to what you’d been before… if that was even a possibility.

#top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader

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missathlete31 · 1 year ago

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Work In Progress Wednesday

So technically this is part of a bigger story featuring Hangman (shocking I know- he's the only one I ever write lol) as Maverick's son who is pushed aside in Pete's efforts to win back the love of Rooster... BUT I thought this was a fun little emotional moment between Bradley and Mav. Enjoy

"Bradley wait please" Maverick begged, and Jake watched as his father finally managed to catch the other man by the arm. "Please, I just- I just wanted to say a few things before you go."

Rooster narrowed his eyes but complied, though he did shake his arm out of his Captain's grip, "what is it?"

Maverick struggled to compose himself for a moment, clearly surprised to be given this opportunity, no doubt expecting his usually aggressively angry godson to have shoved him away. "I'm sorry to do this now, I know this isn't the best moment but I can't- I need to get this out" he explained thinking about how uncertain a future chance might be. "I need you to know that everything I did, it wasn't because I didn't believe in you."

The taller man paused for a moment, eyes assessing before he cleared his throat, "Then why-" Bradley pressed, "-did you do it? Why did you pull my papers?"

"I had to" Captain Mitchell shook his head, "You- it wasn't that the Navy was too good for you, but you were- you are- too good for the Navy. You don’t deserve to be used as their pawn, you’re worth so much more than that, your life is worth so much more than that. I know I shouldn’t have pulled your papers, I know I set you back those years but you are still here, the top of the top, the best of the best, because of your talent and your skills. Even with me trying to hold you back” he inhaled emotionally, “you are still where you belong, in the sky, like your father.”

"Mav" the brunette swallowed roughly, "this doesn't fix-"

"I know it doesn't" Pete cut in, "and I understand that. I just need you to hear it now. I believe in you, I always have, I always will. I love you Bradley and I need you to come home okay? Don't think up there. Don't hesitate. Don't doubt yourself. You belong out there. Don't think, just do."

Bradley’s face crumbled for a minute, emotion clear on his face. He offered the man in front of him a nod before he sniffled back a sob, “I- I just wanted to make you proud-"

"And you have" his godfather confirmed gently, "I am so proud of you Baby Goose, I always have been. And these past few weeks, getting to fly with you, it's been the greatest honor of my life."

"Flying with you has always been my dream-"

Maverick gave a watery smile, "mine too kid."

So what do we think?

#top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #top gun: maverick #all the feels #family angst #I still think Bradley was the villain for all the horrible things he said to Maverick and the others #not okay Rooster #rooster fanfic #jake hangman seresin

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arickaandherfictionalothers · 2 years ago

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Always be my little girl- Part One

(Aricka “Little A/Mini-Mav/Lucky Charm” Mitchell and Pete Mitchell)

(Pete meets his daughter for the first time)

Gotta hold on easy as I let you go.

Gonna tell you how much I love you, though you think you already know…

Pete stood in the crowded terminal of the airport, waiting for something- for someone- he never expected he’d be waiting for.

Today was the day that he became a dad, officially.

Two months ago, his on again/off again partner, Charlie Blackwood, called him late at night, saying he was the father of twins-!- and that she was signing over custody of their daughter- his daughter. A little girl. She said her name was Aricka; after his twin; and that Pete deserved to raise one of his children and that Aricka was his miniature in every way.

But he knew that Charlie had never wanted a daughter. She’d always wanted a son. This was her way of giving her to someone else who could raise her. Someone who’d always wanted a daughter.

He had a picture of her with him, held tightly in his hand along with a pink stuffed bear, his first gift for his kid. The picture showed two blonde haired children, a little boy with Charlie’s grin and facial features, and he had Pete’s same colored eyes and a protective grip on his twin-which made him smile- and then he saw his daughter. She was blonde, yes, but her eyes were definitely his- green with blue specks. And her smile was his, too. There was no denying that she had the same mischievous, “up to absolutely no good,” smile as he had.

She really was his mini-me.

His twin walked over to him then; looped her arm through his. “You look like you’re about to vibrate outta your skin, Pete,” she says. “Take a deep breath. The plane just landed. I’m sure wrangling two toddlers is difficult for anyone. Including Charlie.”

“I’ve missed four years of her life already, Ricki,” he says. “She doesn’t even know me yet. What if- what if she doesn’t like me?”

Ricki makes a tsking noise, “now that isn’t the overconfident “all ladies love me,” Pete I know and love.” She moves to stand in front of him. “She’s your daughter. How can she not love you already? I’m sure Charlie’s told her all about you. I’m betting she already adores you. And she hasn’t even seen you yet.”

I remember I thought you looked like an angel wrapped in pink so soft and warm.

You've had me wrapped around your finger since the day you were born…

Just then he saw a flash of blonde hair in the crowd. “We’re about to find out,” he says, and waves so Charlie could make her way over to him.

She was holding their son- Jeremy- on her hip, and had a firm grasp on the hand of someone else- and that’s when he saw her.

Aricka Mitchell. His little girl. She was wearing a floral print blouse under a pair of pink overalls, and had a pair of pink and white converse high tops on. Her hair was secured in two ponytails with pink bows on either side of her head.

Pete thought she was the most angelic creature he’d ever seen. “Hi, Charlie,” he says, unable to look away from his kid- his daughter, who was staring up at him like he was the coolest thing she’d ever seen.

“Pete. I’d like to introduce you to your daughter- Aricka Mitchell.” Ricki gasped softly and it was then Pete remembered he hadn’t exactly told his twin the name of her niece.

Oops.

He kneels down, makes eye contact with his daughter, who looked very unsure but very curious at the same time. “Hi Aricka,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.” No answer. “Do you like stuffed animals? I saw this guy in the toy store and thought he’d be a good friend for you.” He holds the bear out. Watches.

Waits.

The four year old looks up at Charlie, who nods expectantly. Little Aricka looks back at him, and takes a step forward. Touches the soft satin bow around the neck of the bear.

Then two tiny hands snatch the toy from his grip and pulls it back towards her like she was afraid he’d take it back. She hugs the bear close, probably noticing like he had that it smelled faintly like strawberries. Little green eyes meet his, and stare right through him it seemed.

You're beautiful baby from the outside in.

Chase your dreams but always know the road that'll lead you home again….

With two steps, she was in his space, little arms wrapping around his neck and her little head resting on his shoulder, and instinctively, he held her close. “Daddy?” She whispered, and with one word, Pete was irrevocably tied to the little girl in his arms. He knew in that moment, the rest of his life would be devoted to her safety, well being and happiness.

He would be the best parent ever for the little girl he was holding currently.

Go on, take on this whole world.

But to me you know you'll always be, my little girl.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered, face pressing into a tiny shoulder, breathing in her baby-scent. “It’s me. It’s daddy. I’ve got you.”

With those words, his daughter relaxes and sighs, snuggling even closer to his warmth. “My daddy,” she says happily.

My little girl, Pete thinks. Always my little girl.

————————-

@astralshipper @rosieshipper @hyperionshipping @sappy-secrets @yeehawselfshipping @letsgofoletsgo @tsundere-selfship @callsign-revenge

#Spotify #MavDad and MiniMav #dad and daughter self ship #Aricka and Maverick #Aricka and MavDad #minimav AU

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gingerbeans · 3 years ago

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Don’t imagine little Bradley holding his Uncle Mav like a lifeline every night before he would deploy, asking him if he could go with him and practically begging him to stay.

Don’t imagine Bradley spending every second of every day waiting for the mail so he could read the next letter from his favorite Uncle.

Don’t imagine Bradley telling Maverick he was going to dress up as his favorite superhero only for him to come out with Maverick’s flight helmet and bomber jacket.

Don’t imagine Bradley being surprised the first time Mav showed up to a father’s day lunch in the 5th grade, hugging him and telling him that he loves him.

Don’t imagine Maverick showing up to every game he could, asking Carol to record the games he couldn’t.

Don’t imagine Bradley crying into Maverick’s shoulder when Carol gets her diagnosis. The two of them sitting together at the headstones of the two Bradshaw's.

Don’t imagine Bradley’s high school graduation, right before he found out. When Maverick was able to get Ice and many others from his and Goose’s Top Gun class to attend and cheer him on.

Don’t imagine Bradley wanting to not just emulate his father, but also desperately wanting Maverick to be proud of him.

Just...don’t imagine Before. Before Maverick pulled Rooster’s papers, before they ended up separated for years. Before Bradley almost lost Maverick forever.

#top gun #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #guys rooster and maverick's father-son relationship is e v e r y t h i n g #they deserve the world #just...maverick trying to fill the void that was Goose's death and succeeding until the fallout #y'all just know that Mav went to every one of Rooster's events after that in a shitty disguise #He totally cried during Rooster's Top Gun graduation

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 2 years ago

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One Captain's Daughter - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / OC (Amara Blackwood-Mitchell)

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Light Angst, Daddy Issues, Arguing, Complicated Family and Relationship Dynamics; Female OC from Third Person POV

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Chapter Summary: Amara Blackwood-Mitchell arrives in Miramar for her next assignment. And she can't stop running into familiar faces along the way.

Heading to Miramar, California—the sight of her parents’ ill-fated romantic story that led to her pathetic existence—was not on Amara Blackwood’s preferred to do list for the month, but she couldn’t argue with the Pentagon.

And that’s Amara Blackwood to you. Not Amara Mitchell. Not when the Pentagon was involved.

Her sensible professional heels clacked against the pavement as she walked quickly towards the base offices . Her dark ponytail swayed just a bit as she flashed her ID and badge to the guards on duty. The lock clicked open, and Amara nodded in thanks to the guards before heading inside the refreshingly cold building.

Amara glanced at her watch as she entered the elevator. She was early, but she was quite sure that the military preferred for her to be early rather than late. And besides, Vice Admiral Simpson, or Cyclone as she was told to call him, wanted her to come to base as soon as she landed in San Diego. There was no time to waste in his eyes.

Luckily for Amara, it was late enough in the day that the halls were relatively empty. Cyclone had emailed her their meeting spot ahead of time and with a quick scan of the directory, Amara found the secluded conference room at the end of the hall. She knocked lightly to announce her presence before pushing the door open.

“I hope that I’m not interrupting, but I . . .”

Amara trailed off when she locked eyes with a startled Pete Mitchell. The door shutting behind her was the only noise in the room for a few moments as the father-daughter duo locked eyes for the first time in a couple of months. Amara looked away first, pursing her lips, and turned instead to Cyclone and Warlock.

“I hope that I’m not interrupting anything, Vice Admiral Simpson, Rear Admiral Bates . . . Captain Mitchell,” she added as an afterthought. Her grip on her folders subtly tightened. “But I was told to come here as soon as I arrived in town.”

“You weren’t interrupting anything, Miss Mitchell,” Cyclone assured her with a curt nod, “and thank you for coming.”

“Of course, sir. But it’s Blackwood, sir. Miss Blackwood,” Amara corrected softly.

“My apologies. But were you ever given a callsign before, Miss Blackwood?” Cyclone asked Amara. She tried to withhold a grimace at Cyclone’s question. And she ignored the fact that Maverick's gaze was burning into her side. “For clarity purposes on base.”

“. . . Honda . . . sir," Amara grunted out.

“Ah,” Cyclone replied, recognizing the nature of the callsign. He glanced knowingly over at Maverick before returning his gaze to Amara. “I suppose that would make.”

And why did it make sense?

Because ‘Honda,’ unlike many callsigns, was an acronym. For Hands Off: Her Navy Dad is an Aviator. Or, to translate into layman's terms: fuck around and find out.

Amara hated her callsign because it wasn’t about her, but her father instead. Didn’t she deserve her own callsign if they were going to force her to have one? This was exactly why she never ever wanted to become a naval aviator—the second that they read ‘Mitchell’ on the paperwork, any chance at a fair chance went out the window.

“Honda, we were just discussing Maverick’s role in the upcoming mission,” Warlock spoke up, causing Amara to nod.

"Of course.” Amara walked over to the table and opened her folder. She handed over two packets of new paperwork to Cyclone and Warlock before straightening up. “All of the proper authorizations have been put in place, but the Pentagon is still concerned about the specifics of the mission.”

“What specifics?” Maverick asked her.

Amara paused to steady herself before slowly turning to face him.

“The Pentagon just wants to ensure that the team that they send in can get the job done correctly,” Amara replied stiffly.

She turned to her dad and straightened up a bit, clearly unhappy with how she was blindsided about the set up of this particular job.

“I see,” Maverick trailed off.

“Yes,” Amara agreed before turning back to Cyclone and Warlock. “But the Pentagon, under direction from the Commander-in-Chief, has updated their required parameters for this mission, which you can find in the marked sections of these packets.”

“Can I see these parameters?” Maverick questioned, walking over to Amara.

“Very well,” Cyclone replied gruffly, clearly not a fan of Maverick.

Amara pulled another packet out and handed it over to Maverick, though she didn’t spare him another glance. As Cyclone, Warlock, and Maverick flipped through their packets, Amara’s eyes floated up to the screen where the images of the twelve naval aviators that her Uncle Ice had personally selected for the mission were displayed.

Her eyes landed on one pilot in particular with a mustache that she would have ridiculed far more if she didn’t know the story behind why he had it.

Of course, it wasn’t bad enough that she had to run into her father here, but also Bradley, who she hadn’t seen in even longer. And under even worse circumstances, if that was believable.

“If you have no further questions, Maverick, you’re dismissed,” Cyclone stated, leaning back in his chair. “We just have basic policy and protocol questions for Honda that won’t impact your role in the preparation for this mission.”

“I don’t,” Maverick replied, handing the packet back to Amara. She took it without a glance up at him. “Until tomorrow, sirs.” Maverick turned to Amara, who continued to refuse to meet his gaze in front of Cyclone and Warlock. “Honda.”

Amara acknowledged him with a nod, but nothing else. Instead, she simply focused on Cyclone and Warlock. She pushed any thought of her father or Bradley out of her mind and just focused on the job at hand. That was why she was here in the first place.

Rehashing old shit was not what she was here to do, nor was it what she wanted to do.

~~~~~

Amara walked out of the base office building with the intention of immediately going back to her temporary residence and take a long, hot shower to get the residual cross-country flight grossness off of her. And maybe stop for a quick grocery trip on the way there.

But, alas, she would not get her quiet night.

Pulling out her keys, Amara looked up and immediately frowned when she spotted her father leaning on her rental car with his arms crossed over his chest. How he even knew that it was her car, she didn’t know, but either way, he very clearly wasn’t leaving without talking to her. Amara paused for a moment, letting out a low sigh, before walking over to him.

“Captain Mitchell, did you have additional questions on the mission?” Amara asked, trying to remain professional in public.

“Amara, please,” Maverick sighed, standing up and taking a step forward. “I . . . you never told me you were on the West Coast.”

“Yes, well, I wasn’t on the West Coast until about four hours ago,” Amara replied, glancing down at her watch. She returned her gaze to Maverick. “Besides, I was under the impression that you were probably still sitting in a Nevada base hospital after that little stunt you pulled.”

“You heard about that?” Maverick asked, wincing at her statement.

“Oh, yes. And there was nothing better than watching my boss storm around the office cursing ‘that dumbass pilot Mitchell’ for the better part of three hours. Of course, that was during the stretch of time where they thought that you were vaporized somewhere over the desert, and I was fielding calls from one rather unsympathetic and pissed off Rear Admiral Cain.”

Amara’s lips wavered a bit, which only made her force them into a harder line. Maverick didn’t need to know that she’d silently cried in a bathroom cubicle for half an hour about the fact that he was potentially killed in a stupid test run that could have easily been avoided. And about the fact that she couldn’t call anyone to talk about it since the whole thing was highly classified.

“I shouldn’t have pushed it,” Maverick admitted, causing Amara to withhold a scoff.

“And yet you never learn,” Amara replied, a bit more forcefully than she intended. “You just get Ice to bail you out and then you go off and do the exact same thing again.” Amara’s eyes narrowed into a glare that reminded Maverick all too well of the ones that her mother sent him back in the day. “You do realize that your luck is going to run out sooner rather than later, right?”

When Maverick didn’t respond, Amara had her answer. Shaking her head, Amara brushed past him, wanting nothing more than to just be alone and curl up under a blanket until she inevitably had to leave it the next morning.

“Amara, please—”

“—It’s Miss Blackwood or Honda in professional settings, Captain Mitchell,” Amara corrected, turning to shoot him another look.

“Then let’s go off base,” Maverick suggested as Amara tugged her car door open. “Please, Amara—Miss Blackwood. Let’s just talk. If we’re going to be working together and remain professional, we should talk. Now. Before the whole thing starts.”

Amara pursed her lips together again, narrowing her eyes at her father. He was clearly pleading with her, and he had pulled her whole ‘professionalism’ card and thrown it back into her face. And she had to admit that he did have a point. It was better if they got the residual awkwardness out of their systems now. Without too big of an audience.

“Fine,” she sighed, sliding into her car.

~~~~~

The Hard Deck was still quiet when Maverick and Amara walked in.

Amara tossed aside her professional suit jacket and exchanged her heels for the ratty Vans that she’d had for years. With her pressed button down and black pencil skirt, she was still going to stick out like a sore thumb at the bar, but there was nothing that she could do about that now.

“Let’s sit at the bar,” Maverick suggested, leading the way to the corner.

They sat down quietly on the padded barstools. Amara noticed the sign behind the bar but didn’t comment about it. Perhaps it was cruel to then watch her father slowly place his phone onto the bar top, which she could have easily prevented, but life was about the little things.

“You've got to be kidding me,” a familiar voice called, causing both Mitchells to look up. Penny stood in front of them, staring down Maverick with a mix of emotions that Amara really did not want to identify. "Pete."

“Penny?” Maverick returned, in disbelief.

Amara withheld an eyeroll and simply reached for her drink. She knew all about her dad's history with Penny Benjamin from Carole, Ice, and her mom. And she met Penny several times over the years. They got along fine, though Amara didn't really have an interest in developing a stronger or lasting relationship with her dad's on-and-off girlfriend.

“You remember my daughter, right?” Maverick spoke up, gesturing to Amara. Penny smiled good-naturedly at Amara, who returned it with a polite nod.

“Yes, of course. It’s good to see you again, Amara.”

“You as well, Penny.”

“You were a lot younger the last time that I saw you,” Penny stated, causing Amara to chuckle.

“Yeah, I think that I was still in high school the last time,” Amara replied, thinking back over the years.

“What are you doing in town?”

“Working for the Pentagon,” Amara explained, deciding to just leave it there.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

"Well, I'll leave you two be," Penny replied, glancing over at Maverick, before making her exit.

Amara waited until Penny was out of earshot before turning to shoot Maverick a mildly annoyed look.

“You’re still playing games with Penny Benjamin?” Amara sighed, shaking her head. "Really?"

"What do you mean 'really'?"

"You've been going back and forth with her since before you even met Mom," Amara pointed out, taking a sip of her drink. "Make up your mind already."

"Life is complicated."

"I'm aware," Amara replied dryly, staring across the bar.

Maverick stared over at his daughter for a moment with a slightly subdued expression. Taking a sip of his own drink, Maverick cleared his throat before turning back to Amara.

“How is your mom doing these days?”

“Fine. Susan’s trying to get her to retire,” Amara replied, staring down at her drink. “Or at least take a step back so that she doesn’t overexert herself.” Amara set down her drink and stirred it around with her straw. “But you know Mom. She’s stubborn.” Amara turned to her dad. “You both are.”

“I suppose that I can’t fault you for being stubborn too then,” Maverick quipped back.

“Learned from the best,” Amara replied honestly.

“You’re still living in DC then?” Maverick asked after a brief pause.

“For now, yeah.”

“For now?” Maverick repeated, looking a bit confused. He tried to connect the puzzle pieces in his mind and let out a low sigh when he came up with a guess. “Please don’t tell me that you’re moving because of . . . what the hell was his name again?”

“Caleb,” Amara stated, shooting her father a look.

“Right . . . Caleb.”

Amara withheld an eye roll at Maverick’s tone. Caleb, her last relationship, had been her boyfriend for about seven months before she inevitably ended things. Maverick only met Caleb once when he was in town to visit her and Charlie and it hadn’t gone the best.

“You can drop the fake niceness,” Amara told Maverick bluntly. “I dumped him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Amara laughed, shaking her head at him. “You hated him.”

“Your mom didn’t like him either,” Maverick replied, causing Amara to turn her head sharply towards him. She narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Do you and Mom just gossip about my love life behind my back?” she demanded in an annoyed tone. “You have nothing better to talk about? Nothing?”

“It comes up in conversation occasionally.”

“Bullshit.”

“It does!”

“Great,” Amara muttered, shaking her head. “And if you must know, the reason why I’m considering leaving DC is because I might move into the private sector. Or maybe a different career field entirely. I don’t even know anymore.”

“Really?” Maverick asked, looking surprised at the news. “Why?”

“Better pay, more flexibility. Of course, there are drawbacks too, but . . . I just don’t think that the Pentagon is my big and final calling.” Amara stared down at the bar top, moving the condensation from her drink around with her fingertip. “At least anymore.”

“When would you switch?”

“Don’t know. I’m still not completely sure that I’d do it anytime soon,” Amara replied, shrugging her shoulders. “But we’ll see.”

“So, you’re in town for the duration mission then?” Maverick asked, shifting the topic of conversation.

“Yeah,” Amara replied softly. “I’m supposed to wait around in Miramar until they return before submitting my full report.” She took a sip of her drink and lowered her gaze. “I’m mostly just here to remind cocky naval aviators that the Pentagon isn’t allowing them to do whatever they want with taxpayer-funded planes.”

“Aviators? Plural?”

“Well, there’s a whole other generation of cocky pilots to manage. I’m sure that you’ve read their files by now,” Amara spoke, glancing around the bar. “Besides, you don’t become a TOP GUN pilot by not believing in yourself. Some people just believe in themselves a little too much.”

"I know the feeling," Maverick replied, causing Amara to turn back to her dad.

"And that's why if you want to keep your current job, you need to stop pissing off admirals,” Amara warned Maverick quietly. It was his turn to avoid her gaze. “I’m serious. Cyclone doesn’t like you already. If Ice wasn’t his superior, I’m quite sure that he’d find a way to get you off the mission in a second.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, but it was heavily implied.” Amara shook her head and let out a breath. “He’s the definition of by-the-book and you’re the definition of throwing-out-the-book. And I can already see you plotting how to scare the aviators tomorrow.”

“I’m not plotting,” Maverick insisted.

“Yes, you are. You have that look in your eye,” Amara replied, gesturing to her own eyes. “The one that Mom says that I inherited from you.” She glanced over at the naval aviators gathering around the pool table. “You’re going to put them through the ringer.”

“You know any of them?” Maverick inquired, turning from the pool table back to his daughter.

“Just the one.” Amara trailed off, leaving her implication hanging in the air. Maverick nodded slowly, looking down at his drink.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” he asked quietly.

“Two years ago. About,” Amara replied truthfully, swirling the remaining liquid around in her glass. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah . . . it has.”

Maverick paused for a moment, clearly caught up in the memories and never-ending cycle of guilt. The same cycle of guilt that Amara had called him out on numerous times as an angsty teenager when she was feeling particularly abandoned by him and his need to escape his emotions. It usually followed some kind of dumb decision on Maverick’s part that resulted in Charlie getting a call.

Amara knew that her father carried a lot of burdens that he never felt like sharing with anyone else—because that would mean actually talking about his problems—but he always had a particularly shrunken expression when he was thinking about Goose and Rooster. It was his own version of the thousand-yard stare.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” Penny asked, walking over.

“He probably needs another round,” Amara vouched for Maverick, “but I’m all set, thank you.”

“Another round?” Penny questioned Maverick, who smiled and nodded.

“I’ll be back,” Amara replied, glancing between Penny and Maverick.

She didn’t particularly want to watch her dad and his on-and-off-again girlfriend flirt, so it was as good of a time as any to take a trip to the bathroom. But, as she was washing her hands, Amara heard the bell ring and instantly knew that Penny caught Maverick with his phone on the bar top.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” she muttered to herself, drying her hands.

Making her way back out to the bar, Amara didn’t miss the sudden rush from the crowd to get their orders filled. Including one particularly smug aviator—Jake Seresin, if she recalled correctly from the files—who was definitely going to regret his attitude tomorrow.

“You sure you don’t want another round?” Penny asked Amara as she approached. “Your dad’s paying.”

“Yes, I heard,” Amara replied, shaking her head in disappointment. “But I’m all set. I should probably go grocery shopping and work on my files before tomorrow.” Pulling out her wallet, Amara handed over a twenty to Penny. “For our drinks. I’m sure that he’d be happy to cover the rest of it.”

“I thought that I was buying you a drink,” Maverick pointed out, turning to his daughter.

“You’re assuming that your card is going to work,” Amara reminded him, putting her wallet away. “I distinctly remember being on the phone with the credit card company for you a couple years ago for the better part of two hours while you were temporarily docked in Hawaii.”

“I’ll get the next one then,” Maverick offered.

“If you can finish paying off this tab first, that is. You’re lucky that it’s still early.” Amara finished off her drink before setting the empty glass back on the bar top. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” she suggested, pulling her purse strap onto her shoulder.

“Yeah. Thank you for coming. And for buying.”

“Bye, Dad.”

Amara bid goodbye to Penny as well before turning for the door. The bar was quickly filling up and she was glad to be out of there before it got too rowdy. Or before her father inevitably made an even bigger fool of himself. Mostly the second reason.

Amara walked down the sidewalk, keys in hand, and slipped into her car. She closed the door and then began the task of finding the keys to her temporary residence in her purse. And then there was the matter of trying to locate her sunglasses in the disaster of a passenger seat mess. Amara briefly glanced up in time to see a familiar Hawaiian-shirt-wearing mustached aviator walking down the boardwalk. And what did she do next, you ask?

Get out of the car like an adult and say hello?

Simply just stay where she was and wait for him to pass by without incident?

No and no because those would have been too normal of a response.

No, instead, Amara flattened herself down, ignoring how the emergency brake and gear stick dug uncomfortably into her abdomen and hoped and prayed that Bradley didn’t see her. Because that was an adult response to the situation.

Great balls of fire, she was so fucked.

#top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #bradley rooster x oc #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw

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mayhem24-7forever · 3 years ago

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World War Mitchell - Time Is Running Out Part Two

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Mitchell!Reader Oneshot

~ Part One ~

After her father Maverick finds out about her and Jake's relationship, things spin out of control and it may be up to Jake to fix it

Author’s Note: Firstly, I don’t want minors reading any of my fics, even if they are SFW so this one is especially off limits! I deserve a safe place to express myself so please respect my boundaries. Sorry this took so long! I have one more part planned but it’s probably going to be a while before i can get it done so sorry about that! Thank you to @blue-aconite for beta reading. Dividers by @jbarneswilson

Content Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, family in-fighting, forbidden love, discussions of/references to death/loss, fluff, smut, stripteasing, motorboating (low key), suggestive comments/jokes, oral sex (male receiving), p in v sex

Maverick had never wanted to be the type of officer to actually have an office on base, in fact he had spent the last thirty-odd years of his career trying to ensure it. But after such a successful mission taking out the uranium processing plant, even Ice himself couldn’t have stopped them from promoting him to Rear Admiral, and unfortunately he was no longer around to even try. The pay was better and he had been able to cut a pretty good deal with Cyclone allowing him to continue flying but it did come with more responsibility. Cyclone had put him directly in charge of the group of aviators who had been called back to Top Gun, the higher ups deciding to make them a permanent team after the success of the uranium plant bombing. Now, Rear Admiral Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell was in charge of an elite squadron of the best pilots in the Navy, overseeing them as they were given the kind of top-secret and dangerous missions that he would have killed to fly when he was younger. He knew he was getting older because now when he looked at the briefing files for the missions, it wasn't excitement or jealousy that he felt, it was pure concern for the team he had come to see as a family. Or had come to see most of them as a family.

Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was the one and only exception, although it was only recently that he had fallen from the graces of Mav’s found family, due to the notable fact that he had been secretly dating Mav’s daughter Y/N for a month. This was a fact that had come to light a week ago when Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw had caught the pair at the Hard Deck at three in the morning doing god knows what. After tearing him a new one and screaming at him for so long that Warlock had to intervene, he had decided to make Hangman’s life at work a living hell. Thus began the endless parade of useless, menial, demeaning, and exhaustive assignments.

First, he had Hangman scrub the squadron’s jets until they shined. Next was making him move a large pile of sandbags from one side of a hanger to another before ‘randomly’ deciding that he liked them back in their original spot. Then deep cleaning the mess hall and the kitchens, the bathrooms, the locker rooms. Again and again, Mav came up with increasingly ridiculous punishments that kept Hangman too busy to even consider going off base to see Y/N. The cherry on top of it all was that whenever he passed Hangman, he ordered him to do twenty pushups, no matter what task he was in the middle of or how many times in a row Mav decided to walk by. Overall, Mav was pretty pleased with himself and was in a very good mood as he sat in his office looking over some paperwork when the door burst open. He dropped his papers and looked up, ready to yell at whoever had barged in without knocking when he was met with the enraged face of his daughter. His civilian daughter who was not supposed to be on base.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing he-” he began but she cut him off, slamming the door behind her as she stormed to his desk.

“No! What the hell are you doing? Seriously!” she yelled angrily. “Making Jake alphabetize your files was bad enough but making him snake the shower drains in the locker rooms? Twice? And the pushups? That’s ridiculous! The extra work assignments have to stop, you’ve made your point.”

Mav took a deep breath before answering in the most professional and official capacity he could manage. “The work I’m giving Lieutenant Seresin is integral to keeping this base running.”

“You’re making him hand scrub an entire hanger’s floor… it’s fucking concrete!” she screamed. “It’s fucking ridiculous bullshit and you know it! At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if you ordered him to mop up the rain on the tarmac!”

“That’s not a bad idea…” Mav muttered.

“Ugh! You’ve been keeping him so busy I haven’t seen him in a week!” she spat.

“Maybe you two should have thought of that before you went sneaking around my back and lying to me for a month.” he replied, leaning forwards to smack his desk for emphasis. “A month, Y/N.”

“Did you really think that I burned my neck with a curling iron that many times in a row?” she asked incredulously. “You of all people should know what a hickey looks like, you’ve probably given them to every woman within a five mile radius of every base you’ve ever been stationed at.”

“That is a low blow and you know it.” Mav shot back. “But yes, I really thought they were burns because I believed what my daughter told me and had no reason to think that she would ever lie to me!”

“This has gone on long enough, call Jake in here right now.” she demanded.

“No.” Mav replied firmly. “I have work to do and so does he.”

“Fine!” she said before plopping down in the chair across the desk from him and crossing her arms. “I’m not leaving this chair until you call him in here so the three of us can talk about this like mature adults.”

“Then why aren’t you acting like a mature adult?” he questioned.

“Because you aren’t and I never give in first.” she replied.

Mav stared at his daughter, both waiting for the other to even blink, and he was the first to give in with a heavy sigh.

“How did you even get in here?” he asked and she smirked, clearly proud of herself, which was never a good look to see on a Mitchell.

“I bothered Cyclone at the Hard Deck until he gave me permission to come on base.” she answered and Mav sighed again as he put his head in his hands.

“God, sometimes you are too much like me.” he muttered, deeply regretting every single time he had ever had sex without protection.

“Call him in here or this office is becoming my permanent residence and I promise you I will not be a good roommate.” she said firmly.

“Oh for fucks sake!” Mav said, throwing up his hands. “Fine!”

He reached over and snatched the phone off the hook, punching the numbers in angrily. He held it to his ear and met his daughter’s intense gaze, waiting for the line to stop ringing.

“Warrant Officer Coleman, Hanger 5.” said a voice at the other end of the line.

“Hondo, it’s Mav. Send Hangman to my office…” he said before pausing for a moment and adding “and Rooster. Tell them to hurry.”

His daughter’s face scrunched in confusion and suspicion and he smirked as he thanked Hondo and hung up the phone.

“Why Brad too?” she asked.

“I’m not gonna be outnumbered on this, I need back-up.” he replied and she rolled her eyes. “Two against two is a fair argument.”

Sinking down into her chair further and keeping her arms crossed, she lifted up her legs and planted them on top of her father’s desk, knocking over his name plate and a mug full of pens (which was coincidentally a “World’s #1 Dad!” mug she had gotten him for father’s day when she was ten). Mav sighed and began picking the pens back up, putting all the desk items near her feet onto a further part of the desk so she wouldn’t knock them over too. After the area around her feet had been cleared, he went right back to his paperwork, occasionally making notes with a red pen as he pointedly ignored his daughter’s presence.

As they waited for Bradley and Jake to arrive, her mind wandered to the latter and how sweet and understanding he had been in the last week. When they were first discovered, he called her immediately after Mav was done screaming at him to warn her that Mav would likely be heading for her next. Even after being berated for more than an hour straight and humiliated in front of his entire team, the first thing on his mind was her. He waited in his car across the street from her house until Mav left and then headed inside to hold her as she cried. It was rare for her and her father to fight, but the few times that it did happen, it was always very intense and usually left one or both of them in tears. As he entered the house, he found her crumpled on the floor of the living room sobbing and swept her into his arms, carrying her to bed.

He had held her all night long, assuring her that he wasn’t going anywhere and that he was going to do whatever it took to win Mav over. It had taken a long time but she was finally able to fall asleep in his arms, exhausted from sobbing. He had to leave early in the morning to make it to base in time for morning revelry but he left her with a kiss on her forehead and a love note on her nightstand. From the second he arrived on base, he had been given task after exhausting task by an angry Mav and yet through it all, he texted her as much as possible. He was kept so busy that he had no time to come over but he called her every night before bed. He never complained or had an attitude or blamed her for her father’s actions, he was always sweet and reassured that nothing was going to chase him away from her.

After a week of it, she had had enough and resolved to take things into her own hands since her dad didn’t seem to be letting up on Jake at all. She cornered Cyclone at the Hard Deck and pestered him until he granted her a pass to visit the base, the Admiral escorting her to Mav’s office before hightailing it out of there. Now that she was seated in his office, she was actually quite proud of herself. A knock at the door roused her from her thoughts and she put her feet down and spun around in the chair as Mav called for them to enter.

First came Bradley, looking rather pleased with himself but she jumped up and pushed him aside to see Jake enter. He looked exhausted and sweaty, his flight suit scuffed and dirty with the arms rolled up as he had just come from scrubbing the floor of the hanger. Despite looking like he was dead tired, he smiled when he saw her and she threw her arms around him, hugging her boyfriend for the first time in a week.

“Baby?” he asked quietly into her ear as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. “What are you doing here? How did you get on base?”

“It’s a long story but I’m going to fix this.” she replied before pulling backwards to look up at him.

With one hand on his cheek, she pushed aside a strand of blonde hair and she tried not to cry as she looked into his green eyes, dark bags below them from long hours of manual labor.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Mav said as he pulled them apart angrily. “You wanted to talk? So talk.”

“I’m not a child, I’m a grown adult and I can make my own decisions about who to date. And using your power as an Admiral to punish Jake for this is an abuse of power and absolutely ridiculous.” she scolded her father and both Bradley and Jake shifted uncomfortably in the tension.

“I think-” Bradley began but she cut him off.

“Shut up Bradley.” she said with barely a glance in his direction as she kept her angry glare trained on her dad. “The adults are talking, I’ll let you know when you can open your pornstached mouth.”

“...okay.” he replied quietly, accepting his fate.

“Dad, I don’t know what your problem with Jake is but you’re gonna get over it and end this now.” she demanded.

“No! You’re gonna end this. I don’t care about how ‘fun’ this little fling was but it’s over now.” Mav ordered firmly and her jaw hit the floor in shock and outrage.

“You think you can tell me who I can and can’t date?” she snarled.

“Yes! I can! Because you’re my daughter and Seresin is one of my pilots and you both lied to me.” he spat back.

“Maybe we lied because we knew that this is how you’d react!” she countered, throwing up her hands. “What the fuck is your problem with Jake anyways?”

“My problem with Lieutenant Seresin is that he’s a pilot!” he yelled and she took a step back in surprise as he turned to Jake to speak normally. “Look, Jake, it’s not that I don’t like you, I do. You’re a damn good pilot and I will be forever grateful that you saved Rooster and I but I can’t have you hurting my daughter. I won’t allow it.”

“Sir, with respect, I love your daughter. I love her in the way that I used to think I only loved flying.” Jake said quietly but firmly. “I could never hurt her because I’d be hurting myself. I swear to you I’ll never hurt her.”

“You can’t make that promise. All it takes is one accident during training or a mission gone bad and you will have torn her apart in a way that only grief can do.” Mav said before glancing at Bradley, fleetingly but tellingly. “I’ve seen it before and I will not hold another woman I love as she cries over the coffin of her husband. I won’t. I just won’t.”

The silence was thick, the weight of it hanging in the air over their heads. Y/N stared at her father in disbelief, stunned speechless. She had been expecting him to say something about not approving of Jake because of his reputation or his past personality or to object to her dating someone who worked under him. She had not expected her father to bring up Gooses’ death as the reason why he was so upset. Gooses’ passing had been rough on Carole, Bradley and Mav and she knew her dad still carried survivor’s guilt for the accident regardless of the Navy having cleared him of any wrongdoing.

“You’d rather me be miserable to avoid the off chance I’ll lose him instead of letting me be happy with him for however long I get with him?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes. “You want me to choose between him and you? Is that it?”

“No, sweetheart, that’s not-” Mav began but she cut him off.

“Well, I make my own choices and I- I choose Jake...” was all she could manage to say, voice cracking as the tears flooded from her eyes and she ran from the room, too overwhelmed to stay in the office and finish the conversation.

Bradley shifted his weight nervously as Maverick stared at the door in shock, neither knowing what to do. But Jake did. Without hesitation, he stepped forwards and unpinned the golden wings from his flight suit, dropping them into Mav’s hand, who could only stare down at them for a moment before looking up at Jake in utter disbelief.

“I told you that I love her, sir, and that I'd do anything to get you to approve of us. I wasn’t lying and if the only way you’ll approve of us is for me not to be a pilot anymore, then the choice is obvious.” Jake said earnestly.

“Jake…” Bradley said quietly but Jake continued over him.

“I used to think that flying was the love of my life. But then I met your daughter, sir. If being with her means turning in my wings, then I'll never fly again. I choose her." Jake said without a hint of hesitation or regret in his words before saluting his commanding officer. "It's been an honor, sir."

And with that, Jake Seresin excused himself from the office and followed after his girlfriend down the hall, leaving Maverick and Bradley standing there speechless. It didn’t take him long to find her, the door to the empty classroom she decided to hide in left slightly ajar. As he stepped up to the door, he could hear her sobbing and his heart suddenly felt a hundred pounds heavier. He pushed the door open and stepped into the room gazing around until he found her curled up in a ball against the far wall with her head in her hands.

“Baby?” he asked quietly and her head snapped up to reveal her tear-stained face and watery eyes as she looked at him.

Always one to minimize her own emotions, she immediately began to wipe away her tears and began apologizing. Jake crossed the room and kneeled before her, putting his hands on her cheeks as he looked at her with a loving expression.

“Don’t ever apologize for crying.” he said, his thumb wiping away her tears as he pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “I never want you to hide your feelings from me because you think it’ll upset me.”

She nodded and looked up at him with a quivering lip before surging forwards to throw her arms around his neck and bury her head in his neck as she let go of the tears she had been holding back.

“That’s it baby, let it all out.” he said as he stroked her hair comfortantingly, his other hand pressed flat on her back to hold her as close to him as he could. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

He held her there for a few minutes, comforting her until her sobs quieted and her breathing evened. She pulled back in his arms and gazed up at him.

“I got tears all over your flight suit.” she said with a sniffle.

“Well, these things happen when you enter the battlefield of ‘World War Mitchell’.” he joked, trying to lighten the mood and was rewarded with a small laugh she couldn’t contain. “Besides, I’m not gonna need it anymore so you can cry on it as much as you want.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion before her eyes landed on the empty space where his wings had been and she gasped, clasping a hand to her mouth as she looked back up at him in disbelief.

“Baby, I told you I would do anything to get your dad to approve of us and I meant it.” he said, his green eyes gazing down at her smiling.

“But Jake… you love flying-” she began to argue but he cut her off.

“Not nearly as much as I love you.” he told her, pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. “I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your father. I never want you to regret your choice or resent either of us for the absence of the other. This way, everyone is happy.”

“What if you regret this? What if you resent me for grounding you?” she asked.

“I could never regret this choice, not if it means a life with you.” he replied. “No matter what, I’m not going anywhere. If you’re worried about me eventually missing flying too much, then we still have options. I mean technically I’m not grounded from non-military flight, I think your father would be fine with me flying cargo planes or passenger jet liners. Or we could get a little prop plane like your dad has in his hanger.”

“Leave it to you to find a loophole in an ultimatum.” she said with a laugh before pressing her lips against his.

Someone at the doorway cleared their throat and the couple pulled apart to turn towards the door, where they found Bradley and Maverick standing.

“I don’t think prop planes or passenger jet liners will be necessary, Lieutenant.” Mav said as Jake helped her stand to face her father and best friend. “And I think I owe you both an apology.”

The couple looked at him curiously as he stepped forwards before handing Jake his wings back, who looked up at him in confusion.

“Sir, I-” he began but Maverick held up a hand to cut him off.

“It took a lot to give up something you love this much and turning in your wings for my daughter’s sake told me everything I need to know about the two of you. I’m sorry that I misjudged you.” Mav said earnestly before turning to look at his daughter. “Sweetheart, I never thought I’d be a dad, I just never thought it was in the cards for me. But then you came into my life, my precious surprise, I had to try and figure out how to do this whole parenting thing without any preparation. I’ve made a lot of mistakes as a dad, and not trusting your decision about this is definitely one of them. I’m so sorry that I tried to control your life and that I made you feel like you had to choose between us. So… I trust your decision, even though it terrifies me as a father, if this is what you want then I support it and I give you my blessing.”

Y/N began to cry once more and launched herself into her father’s arms.

“Thank you, dad.” she said quietly into his ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” he replied, holding his daughter in his arms as if he was going to lose her forever if he let go, needing all his strength to let her pull away.

They turned to find Brad and Jake just standing and staring at each other tensely until Brad held out a hand as an olive branch and Jake took it to end the staredown.

“Never thought I’d see the day where you chose to give up your wings, especially not for a girl but I suppose if anyone is worthy of turning in wings, it’s Y/N. You’d better treat her right.” Brad said lightly before leaning in to add “But if you hurt her, I will shove you out of a plane without a parachute.”

“Brad…” Y/N warned and Brad put his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright, alright.” he said as she shook her head.

“I’m sorry I told you to shut up.” she said quietly.

“And?” Bradley asked, waiting for her to say exactly what he wanted to hear and she squinted through her eyelids at him in annoyance.

“And… I’m sorry I called your mustache a ‘pornstache’.” she added reluctantly.

“I forgive you.” Bradley said as he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug like he had done since they were kids.

She rolled her eyes as he let her go and she turned to her boyfriend.

“Jake, can you take me home? I don’t think I can drive right now.” she asked, cheeks still wet and eyes still watery from her previous tears.

Jake opened his mouth to respond that he was still on duty but Mav spoke first.

“Go on, take my daughter home Lieutenant, that’s an order… and you’re dismissed for the rest of the day, get some rest.” Mav said and Y/N hugged her father gratefully before saying goodbye to him and Bradley, letting Jake lead her by the hand out to her car.

Jake drove them to her house, one hand on the steering wheel and the other refusing to let go of her hand and resting in her lap. It wasn’t until he stepped through the door of her house that he finally registered just how exhausted he was from the week of manual labor and the ridiculous amount of pushups, practically collapsing onto her couch. Y/N giggled as she saw he hadn’t even bothered to take off his boots.

“Jake, wouldn’t you be more comfortable in the bed or with your shoes off or getting out of the dirty flight suit?” she asked, amused although a small part of her felt guilty for being the reason he was that tired.

“Too much work… Sleepy time, babe.” Jake groaned, laying his head back and closing his eyes, intending to fall asleep right there when he felt a tug on his boots.

Y/N unlaced his boots and pulled them off his feet before standing in front of him and unzipping his flight suit as far as she could with him seated.

“Damn babe, you that eager to see me naked?” he asked with a smirk and she shook her head.

“Would you just help me get this off so you don't get sweat and oil and a million other gross things on my couch?” she said, somewhat exasperated at his cockiness even when he was dead tired.

“Alright, alright!” he replied, shimmying the rest of his flight suit off, his undershirt quickly joining it on the floor, leaving him in only his boxers.

He watched as a mischievous grin grew on her face and she sunk down onto her knees in front of him, gently nudging his legs apart so she could kneel between them.

“Baby, what are you doing?” Jake asked as her hands inched up his thighs towards his boxers.

“Thanking my boyfriend for being so good to me this week and smoothing things over today.” she replied as she reached the hem of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to free his cock, which was slowly rising at her touch.

“Baby, you don’t have to-” he began but she cut him off by taking him in her hand to make him groan.

“I don’t have to but I want to. I’ve been without you for a week, baby, I’m dying to get my hands on you.” she said as she moved her hand slowly up and down his length. “So just lay back and let me say thank you.”

“Oh fuck…” Jake groaned, throwing his head back as she took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around his cock.

She hummed happily at his reaction, the vibrations only increasing his pleasure. Jake’s hand weaved into her hair with a light grip as she bobbed up and down his length, sucking and licking in the ways she knew he loved. It wasn’t too long before he was spilling his load down her throat, her wide eyes looking up at him encouragingly as he came. He was breathing heavily as he came down from his high and she pulled away from his cock, a dribble of spit and cum leaking out of her grinning mouth. She stood up, wiping his cum from her mouth, surprised when he grabbed her ass and pulled her towards him so her breasts were in his face.

“Jake!” she exclaimed, trying to pull back as his arms kept her in place, his head resting right in between her breasts. “At least move to the bed instead of the couch.”

“Why would I move when I have two perfect pillows right here?” he replied and she couldn’t help but laugh as she pulled away and put her hands on her hips, Jake whining at the loss of his cushions.

“Would it convince you to go to bed if I took some of my clothes off?” she teased, unbuttoning her jeans and beginning to shimmy them down her legs slowly.

“Fuck…” Jake muttered, throwing his head back at the sight of his favorite pair of panties.

“I see you noticed my choice of underwear…” she said smugly as she fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt. “Don’t you want to know if I’m wearing your favorite bra too?”

“Yes!” Jake said breathlessly, licking his lips as he eyed the section of skin she was revealing as she slowly pulled the fabric upwards, his cock beginning to rise even so soon after cumming.

“Then you’ll have to come to bed.” she said, her movements suddenly ending just before they revealed her bra, winking at him as she disappeared down the hall towards the bedroom, her shirt being flung behind her from around the corner.

Exhaustion was forgotten as his lust took over, scrambling off the couch at top speed, racing down the hallway, and flinging the bedroom door open to find a sight that had his half-hard cock turn as hard as a rock. His girlfriend was lying on the bed suggestively, her lingerie now on full display as she smiled and crooked a finger at him. He practically dived onto the bed and on top of her, hands rushing to remove her breasts from the confines of the bra.

“I thought you liked seeing me in this bra?” she asked cheekily as he pulled it off of her and tossed it onto the floor halfway across the room.

“I do.” he said with a wicked grin as he yanked her panties off and threw them to join the bra, miraculously not ripping them in his haste, savoring her surprised gasp. “They’re my favorite pair to see you in but also my favorite to see on the floor.”

She laughed and began yanking at his boxers, throwing them behind her so carelessly that they would later find them hanging from the doorknob of the bathroom. Jake was surprised when she rolled over to straddle his waist, pushing him down into the mattress with a hand on his chest.

“My poor boyfriend, so tired from all that extra work this week.” she cooed, leaning down to pepper kisses on his neck and the side of his face. “Just lay back and let me do the work, baby.”

“Baby, you don’t have-” he began when he was cut off by the feeling of her lining his cock up with her cunt and sinking down slowly to the hilt. “Fuuuuuuck…”

“That’s it baby.” she said, half a moan as she got used to the familiar and delicious stretch of her walls around him. He tried to put his hands on her waist but she tsked and wiggled a finger before removing them and bringing them up to her breasts. “I’m in control on the pace, just let me take care of you.”

“I fucking love you.” Jake groaned as he palmed the flesh of her breasts and she smiled as she leaned down to kiss him sweetly on the lips.

“I love you too baby.” she replied with a wink before straightening to sit up and begin bouncing herself up and down on his dick.

The only things that could be heard in the room was the slick slapping of their bodies together and their grunts and moans. They were both so worked up from a week’s worth of unwanted chastity away from each other that they were quickly approaching their climaxes. Jake slipped one hand down to rub her clit as the other played with the peak of one of her breasts. The steady rhythm she had set began to falter as she felt herself clamping down on his cock, her orgasm triggering his as they rode through it together. She leaned down to give him one last kiss in between heavy breaths before pulling herself off of him and collapsing onto the bed beside him. His arms immediately pulled her to him him as they panted, her nuzzling into his side and resting her head on his chest.

“If that’s what a week of hard work gets me, then I’m asking for extra assignments every fucking day.” he said and she giggled.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I can’t go that long without sex again.” she told him and he nodded in agreement. “I think it’s time for an afternoon nap.”

“I agree.” Jake said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And when I wake up all rested and re-energized, I’m gonna show you just all the things I’ve been thinking about doing with you all week.”

She hummed in content agreement before whispering “I love you, Jake.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” he replied and the two drifted off to sleep in utter bliss.

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin x you #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic #top gun fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic

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persephone11110 · 2 years ago

Text

The Last Feeling

tom kazansky x mitchell reader

warnings: cancer, death, grief, angst, vomiting,blood, sad w/happy ending

summary: Tom and Pete shouldn’t have do this, they shouldn’t have to bury her. The wife of Tom Kazansky and the big sister of Pete Mitchell. He shouldn’t have to prepare his children to say goodbye to their mom. The last thing he wants on his mind is his wife’s burial plans. Till Death Do Us Apart

ofc: Angelina“Magnet” Mitchell-Kazansky

other ocs: Artemis Kazansky, Apollo Kazansky

It was a regular night for the Kazansky’s —dinner was being eaten as the family of four sat around the table discussing their day.

Except Angelina had came down with a harsh cold. Her fits had been get worse as the week went on causing her to come home earlier and have the rest of the week off.

It started in the middle of the conversation with the twins when she started to cough, her body shook with intensity, eyes watered with pain.

Ice’s heart dropped.

Artemis started to rub her back as it became a routine her body shakes had only calmed a little unfortunately it didn’t help not by a long shot. As Angelina jumped out her seat hurriedly making way to the bathroom.

The twins also started to stand ready to go after their mother.

“She’s okay”, not at the slightest is she okay.

“Call Uncle Maverick” he told them before ushering out to the bathroom.

His eyes dart to bathroom, hearing how awful Angelina sounds.

When he opened the door Ice found his wife leaned over the toliet with blood flowing out her mouth. Blood on her hands from trying to conceal it from their twins, trying not worry them.

Her breathing got worse, she fell back into Ice’s chest.

“Apollo call 911!” he yelled desperately. “Stay awake Angel”, Ice ordered softly his hand running down the back of her hair.

The hospital kept Angelina for a week trying to diagnose her.

Stage IV lung cancer.

They had been hopeful of getting her chemo and radiation, then they would give her the most aggressive therapy they had in attempts of slowing down the cancer. Giving her the chance of surviving of it and living longer to enjoy her family time.

A wish that was never granted.

That was a year ago.

Maybe death could come faster, take her family’s pain away.

She sure as hell lived up to her callsign Magnet, collecting danger and death as she goes. Causing her family to feel the ripples of her cancer diagnosis.

Angelina breathes slowly, sometimes she thinks about how she’s holding Ice down. Holding him down from what he truly desires and deserves. He do anything for her if it meant sacrificing his naval career for awhile, he even went as far as turning down his Admiral promotion. For her.

Because Tom Kazansky doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve how fraile and weak his wife is— Angelina lost half of her balance making it hard to walk without support or how she can’t go a second without throwing up the food her husband cooks her. Them running fastly turns into walks that Angelina barely last in, she normally begs her husband to go without her- leave in her the dust.

I’m not leaving you Captain Kazansky.

Not being able spend time with her children, needing their help with everything she does.

She can’t doing anything with them anymore, cant play basketball with Artemis for when she needs the help. Can’t play fetch with Apollo like they used to. They don’t deserve this, none of them do.

Pete Mitchell has already lost enough.

First their father Duke Mitchell. And their mother Lucille Mitchell.

Later Nick Bradshaw, followed by his wife Carole.

All Maverick seen is death, he can’t catch a break with death around the corner, snatching and grabbing onto life and taking it away for good.

They don’t deserve what Angelina put them through.

I hate myself.

Angelina falling behind,she’s slowing down her family.

“Sorry—” she whispers staring at the ceiling. “Tom”, Angelina tiredly licking her lips as a dry couch slips out her mouth. He grabs her hand gently putting a kiss ontop of her hand.

“…What?”

Magnet Kazansky, she wishes she could stick to her husband like death and trouble do.

She moves her head slightly.“You don’t have to… stay”. , Angelina’s words reflected what she really meant You can leave me I don’t mind.

But Tom Kazansky minded.

Sliently he slipped from behind her, somehow within seconds Ice was next to Angelina. He grabbing her by the chin, turning her face to show her the biggest smile on his face.

“Of course I’m staying Angelina, where else would I go?”

More tears fall down her face then she wanted “You don’t deserve this Tommy”. He doesn’t deserve me anymore, not when im like this.

“You should go Tom, take the kids with you”.

Angelina didn’t have to look at him to know he was hurt by her words. His silence told her everything she needed to know.

Anger.

Denial.

Tom swallowed down a fist of anger down, fully knowing why his wife was saying this.

“What… what do you mean Angel?” he finally went with, his heart and brain fulled with confusion. Angelina frowned, Tom Kazansky is known for his intelligence. Does he not get it?

“I’m slowing down Tom. I’m keeping you away from what you really want in life, keeping you away from living the life you’ve worked for”.

She blinked back the tears that suddenly fell.

Angelina Kazanksy doesn’t deserve to cry, not after whats she been causing this past year.

Its slient for what felt like ages before Tom answers her again.

“Angelina” His voice wobbles, “How could I ever walk away?”.

“I—”, she tries talking but is cut off by Tom.

“How could I walk from my whole world, the reason I smile everyday, the mother of my children?” Tom voice is wobbly with each word he speaks, something unheard of the last time his voice wobbled is when the twins were placed on Angelina’s chest.

“Angelina I’m not walking away” he declared.“I love you”.

She stares at the wall as if it was more interesting.“I’m not good enough for you Tom, not anymore”.

She couldn’t take it anymore, Tom needed to listen to what’s she saying.

“Spending the rest of your life with someone isn’t bringing you down, spending time with a woman who deserves you”.

Tom hands wrap around her tightly“I love you, how many times do I have to tell you Angie”.

“I don’t want someone else, I only want you”

“I’m not woman you met thirty three years ago Tom, hell I’m not even Magnet Mitchell anymore”.

“I don’t care Angelina”. His eyes water. “You may not be the same from when we first met, but I love you”.

I’ll scream it at the top of my lungs.

She choked back a sob. “I-”

“No! ,No what you’re asking me is out of the question Angie. And stop spewing bullshit”—he stops midway and leans over her face dropping a kiss on Angie’s face. “ There’s nothing you can say or do that will make me walk away. You hear me?, I’ll keep it saying over and over—Mrs. Kazanksy I love you”

She struggled to keep her sob down. “I-im sorry, I really am I don’t know why I said that”

Tom’s shirt was drench as both of their tears combined together had the t-shirt in question covered in tears.

“I love you, Thomas Kazansky”

“I love you too, Angelina Kazansky” he whispers into her ear.

“Pete I always told you i’m the better pilot”, she gently slaps his arm away from her chocolate kisses.

“Nope sis, I’m better” he kisses her cheek.

“I outrank you dipshit” Captain Kazansky, Commander Mitchell

“Who’s older Petey, me or you?” Angie always did love reminding him she’s older than him by six years.

“You, I love you” he kissed her cheek again. He stares at the ceiling light, the light reminded him of light that everyone he loves goes to.

“Take care of my family Pete”, “Take care of Ice even when he doesn’t want seem to want it,he’s going to need your help” she finishes—licking her lips.

“I know I have his six, he’s always going to be my wingman in the air and on the ground”.

He grabs her hand reassuringly.

Stop worrying Angelina.

Tom remembers the first time he saw her.

Her brown hair, so long and beautiful it was the first thing that caught his attention.

He remembers watching her and Slider having a drinking contest— trying to outdrink eachother. Idiots, alcohol dripping down her face and her shirt as alcohol had pour and drenched Angie shirt.

“Winner is Angelina Mitchell!”.

He once hated the Mitchells, then Angelina Mitchell came into the picture.

His hatred and anger disappearing, once he first saw her.

His love for her started back in the hard deck during the year of 86.

For the first time in his life Tom Kazansky was scared of rejection never when it came to top gun, flight school he knew how good he was.

But for her was afraid of a no.

He reached for her hand,giving her hand a kiss.

“You must be the notorious Iceman my brother hates so much” her iced glare made Iceman’s look like nothing.

Brother, you got be kidding me.

“Angelina Mitchell, Lieutenant Magnet Mitchell” their hands shook together.

“Tom Kazansky”, Lieutenant Iceman Kazansky”.

“Nice to meet you Tommy” her lips curled into a smile, as she walked away a paper was slipped into Tom’s hand.

A number on the front, a little note on the back that read “Dont tell Maverick!” on it.

He chuckles the Mitchell’s are truly insane and different.

Little light bulb went off in his— hes in love with his enemy’s older sister. Damn it.

“Someone’s got a little crush” a voice drawled behind him, Slider gave him a dumbass grin. “Is she Mrs. Kazansky?” he zeroes in at Tom’s face.“Don’t let her get away” he slaps a hand on Tom’s shoulder before joining the guys again.

Tom swears he’s going to make her his wife, he’s not losing her. She may have walked away as a Mitchell but later on they’ll dance together as Kazansky’s.

This is woman is his soulmate.

Looking at the moon he quietly thanks Goose.

He had sworn that if push came to shove, he would shove all his might to defend her.

And he did but it wasn’t successful.

He couldn’t protect her.

Its all that comes to mind as he listens to his wife breathing rattle.

He looks to his right eyeing the tube that was shoved down his wife throat, the only thing keeping her alive.

He should call the kids in, call Maverick.

Tears glide down his face like a f-14 gliding in the sky—like his wife used to. Something they did together.

He feels eyes staring at him.

“Vice Admiral Kazansky, I think it times to call in the kids and Maverick?” she asked him. Tom turned to her softly his eye’s still glistening with tears, his jaw clenched—he couldn’t talk back because if he did a loud sob would escape from his throat.

He simply went with a nod. The clock ticked before the twins arrived.

“Dad?” a voice broke his train of thought. Artemis and Apollo stood at the door sadly staring at their mother’s body.

She didn’t look like herself.

“Where’s Uncle Pete?” he decides with, not sure how to start a conversation with kids about their mother dying.

A short figure appears at the door. Pete Mitchell, the younger brother of his wife— his brother in-law.

The younger Mitchell looked distraught— he lacked his self confidence, Pete looked like a grieving sibling. His eyes raw red—his face covered in tears, his slick back hair was messy. He shut the door behind him, crossing the floor sliently like a mouse—not like a Maverick.

“This isn’t fair daddy” Artemis cries, she’s sitting down on her mom’s bed.

Artemis is right, Angelina doesn’t deserve no one who ever diagnosed with cancer does.

Why does death get the chance swoop in take her away from them.

Why can’t death give her a second chance?

“Artie right dad, is there not something you can do?” Apollo took his mom’s hand into his.

Pete stood at the end of Angelina’s bed staring into his sister sleeping body. Watching her chest up and down slowly.

The clock keeps ticking —time going fast. Reminding Tom of how much time he has left with his wife.

How much time is left till death comes and guides her home.

Nurse Millie is back at the door alongside the doctor.

The time was now, death was here waiting for his wife to come.

“Sir I think its time” her face is soft- a small smiled reflected on her lips.

“I love you mama” both Apollo and Artemis said the twins leaned over to her face gently giving her a kiss.

Pete grabs her hand and shakes it,“Sis I think you were right–maybe your are the better pilot”. Tears slide down his face as he takes a shaky breathe.

“God, Angie the love of my life I wished I didn’t have to do this— I wished I didn’t have to loose you death, we were supposed to grow old together, retire together and have grandchildren together— I love you moya lyubov Angelina” Tom squeezes her hand, pecking her on lips.

He stood up straight, him and Pete both salute to her.

Two of the most strongest men crying.

Artemis and Apollo hug eachother.

“Why are you being so stubborn big sis?” Pete asked his dying sister.“Let Goose and Carole guide you home”

“Tell Ma and Dad I love them”, he whispers to her ear.

His heart ache in pain as the unsettling thought of sister dying finally came to mind.

“Sometimes when a person is dying they don’t leave until they feel its okay” Nurse Millie supplied the grieving family, “Let her know its okay to go home”.

Tom nodded his head solemnly. “Moya Lubov, I love you and I always will but I think it’s time to go home”, “Me and Pete, the kids will do fine”.

“Tom right you know unfortunately I have to agree with the guy sis”

“Stop being stubborn mama” Apollo smiled sadly at his mom.

But Tom couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that his wife is dying, and he can’t doing anything to stop it— to help her defeat death.

She wasn’t supposed to die, she and him were suppose to go together in peace , not in pain.

“Go home mom we’ll be okay I promise, scouts honor” Artemis promised her.

The numbers on the ventilator start to decline, the signal of the death was finally near.

“It’s okay sweetheart let go”, Tom’s throat closes as his wife starts to let go finally. He swore to life that he heard her sigh, as if the pain she felt had finally came to an end.

For what like minutes which was really seconds, Angelina slips away peacefully.

The beeping steadily ended as the numbers went to zero.

Time of death 2:22.

Angelina feels cold—the feeling of death has taken over her body.

Angelina already missed the sound of Tom’s voice. It was comforting hearing her family tell her its okay, it was nice knowing they would be okay without her. Yet all she wanted to do is give them a hug—tell them she’s sorry for all pain and sorrow she’s caused.

Angelina wants to hug her twins like she did all the other times and reassure them everything will be okay. Tell them to look out for each other like she and Pete did.

She wants both Tom and Pete to make it their life mission to stay close together, to not allow death to draw them apart. To make sure they don’t join her for awhile, she’s knows none of them aren’t ready yet— there’s missions to be completed—families to be created- love to be shared.

“Tell Ma and Dad I love them”

A light shines bright behind easily blinding her. At thought of her dead parents Angelina hears a whistle, only her family knew that whistle— it meant come home, were ready for you.

The next thing she felt was someone hugging her and it felt like old times, the hug was something she remembered from her childhood.

A scent mixed with love and warmth, and protection.

Her eyes are less blurry now and clearer eye sight reveals a taller brunette man who was wearing a uniform. He looked like Pete just forty years past, his eyes were filled with warmth and sadness.

She recognized him as a picture of man she kept on her desk in the corner facing her. The picture had three people, Angelina— Baby Pete and her dad.

Yet he didn’t look like she thought he would. His uniform was spotlessly clean, the blood was gone, there wasn’t any apparent scars on him.

“Dad?”

She didn’t look death eaten her alive either. Angelina looked like she did before, young and free of pain.

The man hands envelopes her even tighter, smoothing down her hair gently.

“It’s supposed be like this you became peaceful with death” the man clued her in“You’d no longer fought death anymore ”

“But yeah kiddo It’s me— me and mama have been waiting for you”.

“Everything’s going to be fine”, he rubbed her knuckles before adding kiss on her to right hand.

He’s right.

“Kiddo we need to go find mom, before she’s asks why i’m hogging you”.

Everything going to be okay.

“Let’s go dad me and you both know how impatient mama is”.

#top gun #top gun maverick #tom kazansky x reader #tom kazansky #pete mitchell #pete mitchell x reader

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