#maverick fluff

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Circumstances

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick refuses to bring you on the mission which further deteriorates your already fragile relationship. And the true reason behind his decision catches you off guard.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, and, as always, a hefty dose of emotional torment

WC: 3000+

This is Part 4 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Lieutenant!” Maverick calls after you as you storm out of the briefing room before anybody else can exit. You hear him pushing past the others as he follows you out the door. “Lieutenant!” he repeats, his voice echoing in the narrow passageway.

You quicken your pace, the curve of the steel walls blurring in your peripherals as you nearly sprint through the winding corridor.

“Y/N!” Maverick hollers over the persistent rattle of the ship. You keep your course without acknowledging him, but the hum of machinery drowns out Maverick’s footsteps and you don’t hear him running up behind you until it’s too late and he’s cutting you off before you can go any further. He stops so abruptly that you nearly crash into him. He releases a sharp breath, his lips pressed together tightly, and blocks your way when you try to move past. “Don’t take it personally,” he says.

“Fuck off,” you snap, trying to go around him.

Maverick holds his hand out to stop you and gives his head a slight shake. “If this is your idea of professionalism” –

You scoff indignantly. How dare he speak of professionalism after washing you out for no good reason. You’re the best pilot in the squadron – he’d admitted it himself – so his decision to keep you off the mission is personal. “Never would’ve pegged you for the spiteful type,” you say, trying to keep your voice level despite its underlying tremor.

Maverick’s gaze drifts as he looks stoically over your shoulder. He seems unfazed by your assessment or, at the very least, he hides it well. “This has nothing to do with our relationship,” he says, still not meeting your eye.

“What relationship?” you respond maliciously, reminding him that he had severed whatever connection the two of you shared weeks ago.

Maverick breathes out steadily and looks at you once more. “I can’t take you,” he says firmly. “Please don’t question my judgement.”

You let out a bitter chuckle and it reverberates in the passage, for a moment drowning out the rumble of the ship’s engines. “Did Cyclone put you up to this?” you ask.

Maverick shakes his head sternly. “This was my decision.”

You grit your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. You’re so offended that Maverick has excluded you from the operation, it hardly matters why he chose to do it. All that matters is that Maverick keeps hurting you. And all you want to do is hurt him back. “Let me pass,” you hiss, trying again to force your way through.

Maverick takes a hold of your arms to keep you in place. “Don’t do this,” he says, an edge to his tone despite the composure on his face.

“Do what?” you yell, fighting his firm grasp.

“You’re acting irrationally,” Maverick says in a low voice.

“Oh, am I?” you respond scathingly.

“We can discuss this in a mature, professional manner,” he urges.

You blink at him, stunned at his choice of words. “Are you saying I’m immature?”

He shakes his head solemnly. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“That’s the word you used” –

“Just listen to me, for god’s sake!” he growls, his volume rising threateningly. But you’re only pleased to witness the dissolution of his self-control. After all, you can’t be the only one here who feels something.

“I am listening!” you retort. “You’re professional and I’m not. You’re mature and I’m” –

“Why are you starting a fight?”

“I didn’t start this!” you shout, finally freeing yourself of his grip.

You push past him angrily, but he doesn’t let you get far before roaring, “YOU’RE A LOOSE CANNON!”

You freeze, silent for a second as you process this appraisal.

“If I can’t trust you down here, how am I supposed to trust you up there?” he yells.

You turn slowly to look at him, meeting his turbulent gaze. “You don’t trust me?” you ask quietly, your words barely audible amidst the clatter of the ship.

Maverick’s features contort apologetically, as though he immediately regrets his words. He sighs despairingly, his eyes glistening in the low, fluorescent lights as he squares his jaw. “I can’t get you to cooperate,” he says regretfully. “I don’t know how.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“You’re a hell of a pilot,” he continues. “But, unfortunately, that’s not enough.”

You suck in your cheeks and bite into them aggressively, trying your best not to cry.

“I can’t have you ignoring my orders up there because you think you know better” –

“I would never –” you start, but he cuts you off.

“You have not demonstrated evidence to the contrary,” he says decisively.

“Maybe not during training, but on a mission” –

Maverick shakes his head. “I told you, Lieutenant: we train like we fight. So that, when we fight, we can come back alive. Ignoring instructions during training may have created bad habits that I don’t want to creep up on us in combat.”

“So, this is punishment?”

“No,” Maverick says quietly. “This is a lesson.”

You let out a disdainful sigh. “What’s the difference?”

Maverick takes a step toward you. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says.

You back away. “And yet, here we are.”

Maverick watches you levelly, having nearly regained all his composure. “I don’t want to leave this unresolved.”

You consider his request. In just a few hours, he will be leaving for a mission from which he may never return. And yet, your resentment gets the best of you anyhow. “You know that I would never jeopardize this mission,” you say through gritted teeth. “You know that your reason for leaving me behind is bullshit!”

Maverick nods solemnly. “You’re entitled to that opinion.”

You clench your jaw. “Don’t patronize me.”

Maverick doesn’t say much after this point, and you’re too distraught to carry on the conversation all on your own. Within minutes, other officers begin to round the corner as they make their way back to the living quarters and you join the procession mutely, giving Maverick one last, wounded glance.

…

You’re on deck when Maverick and his crew prepare for takeoff as your own fighter is on standby alert. He watches you solemnly as you wish your fellow aviators a successful mission and, when he approaches you, his eyebrows lifted inward worriedly, you’re suddenly overwhelmed with anguish at the thought of losing him for good.

He holds out his hand to you, but you don’t take it. Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, shutting your eyes tightly when you feel his hands close around your back. “Fly safe, Captain,” you mutter, and you feel his head move up and down in a nod against your neck. When your eyes flutter open, you notice that Cyclone – who’d been watching your interaction from the sidelines – has turned away with a sour expression.

It takes every ounce of your self-control to keep from kissing him as you pull away from the embrace. And, when you catch Maverick’s miserable expression, you gather that he’s fighting the same impulse. He squeezes your hand discreetly before backing away with a grim expression. “We’ll see you soon,” he assures you.

…

“Requesting clearance for takeoff, sir,” you say tensely, interrupting the chaotic feed in your headset.

“Denied,” you hear Cyclone’s rigid response.

“But, sir –” you start when Cyclone interjects.

“I said no, Lieutenant.”

You throw your head back into your seat in frustration. Your heart is hammering so insistently that you feel its pulse in the tips of every one of your fingers. You’ve been trained to keep your emotions in check when faced with stressful situations. You’ve been taught to manage anxiety and overcome fear. But this? No amount of simulation exercises could have possibly prepared you for an event like this.

Maverick’s plane has been shot down and Cyclone has made the difficult decision of leaving him behind, despite the very real chance that he may still be alive. Rationally speaking, you understand that going back for Maverick isn’t worth the unnecessary risk of additional casualties. But, as is to be expected in such unprecedented circumstances, you’re noticing a rapid deterioration of your own logical reasoning skills to the point where you contemplate ignoring orders, taxiing to the runway, and taking off without pre-flight checks. Just when you’re about to release the parking brake, however, the ground crew cuts your engine. You glance down to see them signaling for you to exit the aircraft. “Admiral Simpson, what is happening?” you ask in a panic. “Why were my engines shut off?”

“You’ve been grounded, Lieutenant,” is his response. “Please report to mission control.”

The thought that Cyclone might be omitting information about Maverick and taking you off the deck in order to share it in private is causing you to stagger as you climb out of the cockpit. You’re so nauseated that you feel like you might faint before reaching the ground.

You remove your helmet at a run, skirting the maintenance personnel on the flight deck to reach the first stairwell. You barrel down the stairs and through a passageway toward the center of the carrier. Then down another flight of stairs, and then another. It feels like a lifetime has passed before you finally reach the Combat Information Center.

“Is he okay?” you cry, bursting through the door.

Cyclone turns to look at you with barely concealed irritation. He doesn’t appear impressed with your conduct.

You clear your throat and salute your superior. Then, you try again. “Where is he, sir?”

Cyclone tightens his mouth sternly before looking back to the screen behind him. “We don’t know,” he responds.

“What?” you screech, forgetting protocol yet again. This time, however, Cyclone doesn’t even flinch at your tone. “Why am I here then?” you ask, adding, “Sir,” as an afterthought.

“You’re here because I’m not losing another pilot to insubordination,” he replies without so much as looking in your direction.

“Another pilot?”

Cyclone grimaces. “Maverick pulled a stunt.”

“A stunt, sir?”

“They missed the target,” Cyclone states. “Their time was up, I ordered them to return.”

Your heart sinks. “He went back.”

“He took it out,” Cyclone says with a hint of respect. “Just before he was shot down.”

There’s a somber stillness in the room which tells you that there isn’t a soul here that thinks Maverick could have survived. You feel yourself start to shake, the hope that you were clinging to extinguished as the words shot down begin to finally sink in. Meanwhile, you’re stranded in the depths of the carrier, watching helplessly as the tactical team continues strategizing with their commanding officer on how best to bring the rest of their pilots home.

You lean your back into the wall, trying to steady your breathing, not sure how you’re still standing at all. You notice Cyclone’s occasional glances in your direction but you pay him little attention; in fact, you’re doing a fine job of tuning everyone out, until someone’s surprised tone of voice peaks your interest.

“Sir.” One of the operators points at the radar screen. You and everybody else look up at the blip moving swiftly in the direction of the carrier.

“Is that…” Cyclone leans over the operator’s chair. “One of ours?”

“Comms are down, sir,” the operator responds. “But it’s a Hornet.”

"How the hell?" Cyclone straightens his back in awe. He looks over his shoulder at you with a mildly amused expression. “It’s his tail code,” he says, holding your gaze significantly.

Before he can say anything else, you’re out the door, hurtling back up the stairs. You’re blocked, however, by med crews as they flock to the flight deck. By the time you arrive, the crowd surrounding the returned aviator is so large that you can’t get through. But it doesn’t matter. Because he’s alive. Maverick is alive.

…

Half an hour later, you rush into the officer’s locker room to find a shirtless Maverick grabbing a t-shirt out of his locker. He whips his head around when he hears you enter and lowers his arms slowly as you approach.

He glances over your shoulder anxiously. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says.

Although this isn’t the greeting you had in mind, you gaze at him affectionately, nonetheless, still in shock that he’s made it back. That you were so close to losing him forever and yet, here he stands before you, alive and relatively unscathed.

“Y/N,” he warns as you draw nearer.

But you barely hear him. Or, rather, you ignore his words. Perhaps he’s been right all along about your reluctance to comply with authority.

Maverick opens his mouth as if to speak again but, the closer you get, the more powerless he appears in your presence. And before he can say anything else, you throw your arms around him, burying your face into his neck.

Immediately, he’s hugging you back. He holds you firmly, as though he knows just how much you need to feel him after the fear of never being able to touch him again. You collapse into his embrace entirely, until all your limbs are so weak, he’s practically holding you upright. You’re crying and kissing his neck, and his chest heaves as you fall apart in his arms. “Sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear before pressing a burning kiss on your cheekbone. “You can’t be here.”

You compress yourself against him, completely disregarding everything that followed the word Sweetheart. Maverick’s biceps contract as he hugs you even tighter than before, his rapid breaths washing over the top of your head. You lift your face to glance up at him from the snug embrace and he lowers his head to rest on yours. He closes his eyes when your hand starts to move softly down his bare, upper body. “Just a little longer,” you breathe.

He nods against your forehead, bringing a hand up to rest over yours on his chest. His fingers curl around yours and he lifts your hand up to his lips, kissing your fingertips gently. “I owe you an apology,” he says in an uneven tone.

Slowly and very reluctantly, you detach yourself from him. “No.” You shake your head. “You don’t.”

“Trust me,” he says, his gaze dropping. “I do.”

It’s the hard set of his jaw that makes you uneasy at first. And then, when he looks back up at you, the grief in his swimming eyes alarms you further. “What is it?” you ask, not entirely certain you can handle the answer.

Maverick exhales resolutely and turns away to grab his duffel bag out of the locker. The muscles in his back shift when he bends to set it down on the bench. “I applied for a transfer,” he says.

You stare at the back of his head, paralyzed. Confused. Feeling like you might be sick. “What?” you breathe. “Why?”

Maverick straightens out and gives you a somber look. “Because,” he says. “I’m letting my feelings for you cloud my judgement.”

“What are you talking about?” you exclaim. “You didn’t take me on the mission! Despite knowing that I’d get mad. You were right; I’m impulsive and unpredictable and –” you stop short when Maverick shakes his head.

“That’s not why I didn’t take you,” he says with a hint of regret in his tone.

You watch him drag a tired hand over his face. “It wasn’t because you don’t trust me?” you say quietly.

“No,” he admits. “It’s because I don’t trust myself.”

You furrow your eyebrows, wanting more than anything to know exactly what Maverick is thinking. What Maverick is feeling.

He meets your gaze hesitantly. “I couldn’t trust myself to prioritize the mission objective over your safety.” He shakes his head, letting out a tortured sigh. “I couldn’t do it,” he whispers desperately. He releases an uneven breath and shifts his jaw to keep it from trembling. “I can’t fly with you.”

You watch the man who so rarely demonstrates emotion crumble under the gravity of his own words. But the show is fleeting. Abruptly, he wipes his brow in frustration and presses his lips together tightly, squaring his shoulders after having dropped them in despair. You can tell that he’s made up his mind and, despite it being an obviously valid decision considering the situation, you’re hurt that he’s done so without consulting you. “So, you’re just leaving?” you say, stunned.

“I have to,” he responds, finally pulling his shirt over his head.

You stare at him as he packs up his uniform and puts his gear into the locker. You want to tell him that he can’t leave; he can’t because you can’t stand the idea of him leaving. But he’s already resumed his stoic expression, so you can’t possibly tell him that you’re in love with him now. “That’s some bullshit,” you comment resentfully.

He pulls his duffel bag over his shoulder and glances over your face as he straightens his posture. “Lieutenant,” he says. “You’re still not listening to me.”

You grit your teeth in anger. “Luckily, it won’t be a problem for very much longer,” you reply coolly.

He nods, then he steps over the bench to head for the door.

You glance after him, barely able to hold back your tears. “How could you?” you yell, no longer capable of keeping it together.

Maverick turns back in alarm. He drops his bag and, in two wide strides he’s standing right before you with a severe expression on his face. “Are you kidding me?” he hisses. “Why are you screaming?” He looks over his shoulder to ensure that the door is still closed.

You scoff. Of all things, he chooses to dwell on your momentary lapse in self-control. “Stop pretending like this means nothing to you,” you spit out angrily.

His eyes widen and his eyebrows converge. “That’s the impression you got from I can’t perform my duty if it means putting your life in danger?”

You open your mouth to say something, but his words have rendered you temporarily speechless. Finally, you remind him, “Putting my life on the line is my job.”

Maverick sets his jaw. “Precisely.”

“So, you’re going to run away because it’s a challenge?”

“It’s not just a challenge, Y/N,” he says. “It’s not possible. This was never going to work! Perhaps under different circumstances…” he sighs miserably. “We knew that!”

You let out a strangled breath. “I didn’t.”

His eyes search yours as though he can’t believe you haven’t come to the same conclusion. “Not only is it completely out of line for me to pursue a relationship with a lieutenant in my own squadron, but we also keep glossing over the fact that you are half my age! How could this have possibly gone anywhere?”

You feel the trembling of your bottom lip and bite into it forcefully, closing your eyes. “Please don’t go,” you whisper. “I… I –” I love you, is what you ought to say. But, instead, you utter, “I’ll stop disobeying orders.”

“That’s not what this is about” –

“I won’t question you,” you continue, opening your eyes. “I won’t seek you out. It’ll be just like before. A strictly professional relationship, nothing more. Just please don’t go.”

“It won’t change how I feel” –

“It will,” you assure him. “It will… in time. You’ll see. We can do this. You don’t have to go.”

Maverick watches you skeptically so you extend your hand to him to formally shake on it. His gaze sweeps over your features and the heartache is apparent in his eyes. “I can’t,” he says, but you can sense the hesitation in his words.

“You’re Maverick Mitchell,” you say, trying to sound casual while your heart hammers with dread. “Of course, you can.”

Maverick’s mouth twitches upward slightly, although his eyes still watch you sadly. Finally, he places his hand in yours. His grip isn’t nearly as firm as you’d expect; in fact, he’s barely touching you. “For the record,” he says, “I think this is a terrible idea.”

You let out a nervous chuckle when you glimpse the faint smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “How hard can it be, Captain?” you say lightly.

He glances at you pointedly, then responds cheekily, “It can be very hard, Lieutenant.”

Read Part 5

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[helloitstsyu]

Confession | Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

My masterlist

Pairing : '86 Maverick x f¡reader

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

Warnings: alluded smut. Mostly overall fluff.

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

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I.... i lost focus,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I-it's nothing, sir."

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

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

You feel your palm starts sweating, heart racing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maverick..." You whimper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dreams do always stop whenever it's getting good.

[simpforrooster]

don't you dare.

pete 'maverick' mitchell x f!reader

summary: you are sick of your captain not making a move. reader's call sign in Queenie.

t/w: age gap, sexual tension, allusions to smut, cursing

��You smile like that because you think it’ll get you attention,” a deep voice murmurs into your ear. Your body reacts the way you want it to, but you shouldn’t want it. Everything about this little crush is dangerous. 

“My tactic seems to have worked,” you shrug, your shoulder brushing against his body. He's standing so close. “You came over.” 

You don’t need to turn around to imagine the crooked smile that’s fallen on his face. He brushes the back of your neck as he brings his beer to his mouth. Goosebumps rain over your arms. 

“Queenie, you don’t have to put on a show to get my attention,” he admits. “You’ve had it since the first day I walked into that hangar.” Now you’re the one with the crooked smile. 

“But you haven’t done anything about it.” The five seconds of confidence from earlier has faded, and is replaced with the desperation that laces your last sentence. The only thing worse than not knowing how someone feels about you, is knowing they feel the same but can’t act on it for one reason or another. 

In both of your cases, he’s your captain. 

Maverick takes another swig of his beer. Your back is still to him, but he brushes against you again as he does this. 

“You think I don’t want to?” he all but growls into your ear. Just as quickly as his mouth is to your ear, it’s gone again. 

To hell with keeping up appearances, you swing around to look at him. How did he expect you to not react to that? Regret weaves through his features, like he hadn’t meant for that to come out. Like he wanted to keep it in because he knows it won’t change anything. He can’t give Cyclone a reason to ground him.

“Of course, I want to,” the words are barely a whisper. “You have no clue how much I want to do something about this.” 

This. This being whatever the tension between y’all is. Too many things are up against the two of you. Him outranking you. Him being the one to put together the dagger team. Let’s just go ahead and mention the elephant in the room. The one that is a little more obvious to onlookers.

The damn age difference. 

“I think I have an idea,” you admit, shoving aside every reason you shouldn’t say this. “Because I have been dying for you to make some kind of move.”

Maverick’s eyes fall closed. His jaw works back and forth, fighting an inner battle. Most likely to grab your hand and pull you out of here or to walk away. 

You’re hoping for the former because his hand reaches out for you, lightly brushing against your arm. He jerks his hand back, seemingly coming to his senses. Like that one touch would be his undoing. The thought of Maverick having such a reaction to you thrills you way more than it should. 

“We can’t,” he croaks out. His voice is strained and so very sexy. It has to sound like that after a hot makeout session too. 

“When have you ever followed the rules?” you press. 

This catches his attention. His eyes pop open, and they are sparkling with mischief. You may not have met Maverick before this deployment, but you’ve heard all about him. Just the other day, you passed by Cyclone’s office and heard him giving Mav a verbal beating. 

“Come on, Queenie, it’s not just me being your captain,” he murmurs. “And you know it.” He searches your eyes, silently saying don’t make me say it. 

Here’s the thing. You want him to say it. You want to hear him admit the thing that is holding him back is something as a meaningless age difference. The amount of fucks you give about him being older than you are nonexistent. 

“Say it, Mav,” you push. The flirtation you felt earlier has quickly morphed into something between annoyance and anger. Annoyed that he’s having a moral debate about dating you, rather than the way he flies his damn F-18. Angry that he came over here guns ablazzin’ calling you out and acting like he was finally going to lay a kiss somewhere on your body. You don’t even care which part at this point. As long as he fucking does it. 

The mischief in his eyes has flickered out to pain. “You know you should be with someone like Hangman or Rooster.” Rooster? His pseudo son? 

You move in closer to him, craning your neck back to look him in the eyes. Those gorgeous eyes. “Don’t you dare tell me who I should be with, Pete Mitchell.” 

His pupils dilate when he realizes you’ve used his name and not his callsign. He doesn’t speak, seemingly in shock, so you keep going. 

“In our line of work, I don’t want to be with someone you think I should be with. I want to be with someone I want and it’s you I want,” before you can think better of it, you add, “sir.” 

Maverick must lose that moral battle, because he grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him. “I am not going to be able to handle hearing you call me sir,” he growls in your ear. “At least not outside of my bedroom.” 

The words, his breath, and the adrenaline send a sweet line of pleasure down your spine. It feels like a lifetime, but Mav finally brings his lips to your jaw, testing the waters with a brief kiss. His expert hands are placed just where they need to be. He slowly runs one up from your hips to your waist. Meanwhile, yours play at the top of his jeans, seeing how far you can push him. 

“Shit,” he whispers, “I need to get you out of here before I really get us in trouble.” 

“Good, I didn’t want our first kiss to be in the Hard Deck,” you admit. “Take me home, sir.” 

Maverick groans, and pulls you from the bar. 

“Our tabs!” you giggle at his urgency. “We can’t skip out.”

Maverick leans into you against his motorcycle. “A bar tab is the furthest from my mind at the moment, Lieutenant.” His lips are a breath away from yours. 

“Come on, Pete, kiss me already,” you challenge. 

“I don’t know what’s better, when you call me Pete or Sir. It shouldn’t be that provocative,” he says. 

“You’re such a simp,” you mutter, pulling him down by the collar of his bomber jacket. Taking charge like you did in the bar, you place your lips against his. The intensity is everything you hoped it would be. He slowly drags his tongue against yours, you immediately grant him access. 

When he pulls back, he says, “You’ll have to explain what that means later.” He voice as sexy as you predicted it would be. 

[icexmav33]

Maverick: do you trust me?

Iceman: no

Maverick: smart man

Rooster: if i didn’t attend the wedding, I wouldn’t believe those two are married

[mqverick]

buick roadmaster | ₊˚⊹ᰔ

mature themes, +18

rough smut included, consider yourselves warned

“Because I’m going deeper and deeper

Harder and harder”

─── ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ───

“I don’t want to be demanding here, but… could you say maybe ten — twelve words to me before we get to the hotel?” you asked Charlie, half frustrated, half smiling at him, trying not to look too pissed off. It had almost been an hour ever since he’d begun driving, not even bothering to turn the radio on. Just dead silence.

Charlie glanced over at you, then returned his attention to the street, driving quietly with opaque eyes. You sighed, hand coming up to your forehead as you rubbed the skin between your eyebrows in despair, not knowing what to do.

“…Consider it foreplay,” you tried again, this time more playfully, hoping to get him in the feels.

Instead of saying anything, though, he just smirked discreetly, secretly loving being busted by you. “Glad we decided to spend the weekend together, gives you two whole days to bitch at me,” he eventually replied. As a response, you scooted over and knelt his thigh, crossing your arms as you looked forward with narrowed eyes. “What, you’re not talking to me now?”

God, the nerve of that man.

“If you’re so damn worried that you can’t look like you’re not holding back a giant shit, call your dumb service. I took Friday off because I wanted to spend three nice days with my loving boyfriend, who apparently is the biggest, pompous jerk I’ve ever met.”

Charlie chuckled sarcastically, still not giving the slightest care of looking at you, his gaze firmly locked on the road ahead of you. “So that’s what’s on my mind, huh? The service?”

“I sure hope it’s not another woman,” you replied with the same snarky tone, your head now leaned against the widow as you also refused to look at him. You could feel the radiation of his proud, teasing smirk burning you, nevertheless.

“Maybe it’s three other women.”

Oh, he just loved keeping the tension going, didn’t he? Hadn’t you had enough patience and experience of his almost childish behavior after dating (and baring) him for a whole year, you would’ve grabbed the steering wheel from him and crash the car right into the nearest tree. Sometimes, you wondered how you put up with him, with how full of himself he was.

You saw his motor running and huffed. How convenient, you thought, urging him to pick up.

“Maybe they’re calling you right now.” With flared nostrils, you punched up the speed dial on the car phone, hearing the electronic beeps as Charlie continued ignoring you. His nerves were at the surface, fingers gripping unintentionally hard onto the steering wheel as he pushed his sunglasses over the bridge of his nose, scratching the spot there for just a second.

“Babbitt,” he called.

“Two calls from a Mr. Bateman. You want the number?” the voice operator spoke and you the way Charlie closed his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you as you slowly turned your body around so that you could see him better, getting worried.

Quietly into silence, “No.”

“Oh, okay. Then there’s, uh — oh shit. There’s this, um, Mr. Mooney, says he’s your father’s lawyer in Chicago… your father died, sir.”

Charlie clicked off the line, interrupting the call. Driving with one hand, the other one sat on his lap, looking for something to fiddle with, doing eighty. He was shaken, that you could tell, even though he was putting up the biggest effort not to let it show. All the previous anger you felt about him was long gone, taken over by compassion.

“Oh, Charlie. Are you all right?” you asked, your fingertips reaching for the side of his face, but he shook them away, strangely cold and distant. You just stared at him, unable to read him as he pulled off the road, trying to turn. No reply to your question, struggling to keep up the façade.

“Sorry about the weekend, hon,” he mumbled lowly, turning the car around. Was he serious? Did he really think all you cared about was Palm Springs? You opted to maintain your calm.

“The weekend? Charlie…?”

You found it weird, how little emotion he showed. Charlie always tempted to do things like that, completely leave you out of his thoughts, pretend that nothing had ever bothered you. It annoyed you, sure, but mostly, it caused you sadness. You wanted to be there for him, let him know that he could count on you whenever he was feeling bad, if only you knew what was going on in that mind of his. He was really good at hiding his reactions and feelings from everyone as well.

“Didn’t mean to ruin our trip, I’ll make it up to you, though, I promise,” he announced weakly. “Look, we… uh, we hated each other. Mom died when I was two and it’s been me and him ever since.”

You reached for his face again, this time more gently. Charlie accepted your touch, leaning into it for comfort as he closed his eyes just for a short moment. That was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him — that he’d ever let you seen him.

“Did he not treat you well?” you asked, stroking his hair carefully, smoothing it back.

“Beat me up. Emotionally, I mean. Nothing I did was ever good enough… I dealt with it, eventually. Learnt to ignore and let go. Hated him.”

To you, it explained a lot about why Charlie had been behaving like that. It was how he’d grown up, having to shield himself from the others. It hurt you that you couldn’t seem to be helpful for him, hurt you when he abruptly pulled away from your touch away, swallowing back his feelings.

“We’ve been dating for a year. When were you planning to tell me all this? Let me be there for you, Charlie, I’m sick and tired of always having to guess what’s on your head.” But he was back to being silent and acting as if he couldn’t hear you.

Putting up his guard again, not allowing himself to show you how he really felt. You hated him.

“I’m talking to you,” you said in a demanding tone. “Stop fucking playing a game with me. I’m your fucking girlfriend, I should know how to comfort you for Christ’s sake, but you pull away all the damn time! It’s always one step forward and a whole airplane flight back with us. Quit pushing me away every time I try to understand you, it’s exhausting.”

“Not one of these again,” Charlie whispered under his breath as he sighed too loudly for your liking.

“What? Doesn’t it concern you that you had to say ‘again’ in that sentence? You exclude me from everything that’s going on in your life, maybe you’d like to do something about it, just for a change?” you begged sarcastically.

“Fine, you want to talk? Let’s talk. How was your day, honey?” Charlie questioned with indifference, not bothering at the slightest to hide how much he felt like he itched to piss you off.

“I don’t want to talk, I want to—”

“No, you wanted to talk, let’s talk. C’mon, tell me, how have you been doing? Had a nice day? How was it, tell me everything about it, come on.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you mouthed, unbuckling yourself free from your seat. “Stop the car, I want to leave.” But once again, he pretended like he hadn’t heard anything from what you’d said.

“Not going anywhere,” you were simply given.

“No, you know what? One whole year and you haven’t once told me how you feel about me. It’s as though we’ve been stuck on the third date stage, going out for dinner and then fucking. That’s all we do. I’m not asking you to explain everything to me, just let me know that you feel comfortable confiding in me, trusting me. What if I wanted to meet your parents one day? When would you have told me that your mother had died and that you and your father didn’t speak? Relationships are about care for each other.”

“I care about you, you know that.”

You looked over at him with unsure eyes. You’d doubted Charlie’s faith in you before and maybe that was the problem with your relationship. You loved him, loved him dearly — had been in love with him ever since you began dating him. You knew he was capable of showing you a caring side, which was rare, but still very existing.

You believed you loved him enough for the two of you. None, however, had ever expressed that to each other. Spent days, weeks, months, patiently waited for him to make the move, do something romantic or even just spit it out awkwardly while watching a movie or cuddling in bed. But no, Charlie’s head was more stubborn than a donkey and if there was one thing he was good at, it was constantly shielding himself and drawing you away. As if he hated being in a relationship.

“Do I?”

And it killed him. Killed him how incapable he was of reassuring you that for him, it was pretty much over since the day he met you. How he’d bottled up all the things he wanted to say to you, how important you were to him, his only family.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered lowly enough for you to unintentionally miss it.

“If you’re not ready for a relationship, Charlie, I won’t force you to be in one. And for fuck’s sake stop the fucking car already!” But he wasn’t stopping, wasn’t anywhere near stopping; instead only sprinted faster into the empty road. The wind was blowing through his hair, throwing it on top of his forehead as he pushed it aside, annoyed.

You hair was probably a mess too, for all you cared. You were furious with him, with how little he’d let you know him, how you’d almost never been a part of his life. If only you knew.

“You don’t get to go, I need you,” he yelled, voice loud enough for the first time during the car ride for you to actually hear. He was mad too and you didn’t even know why — no, but honestly — he had no right. No right to even have the smallest, tiniest bit of irritation into his body, when he was the only one responsible for all of this.

“You don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you gritted through your teeth, glaring holes into his head. “Now stop the fucking car or I’ll hit the brakes and we’ll both fly the fuck forward into the glass.”

“All right, stop you want?” Charlie asked, abruptly taking a turn that almost sent you out of the window, holding onto your stomach and the seatbelt that you’d unfastened earlier. “Then stop you’ll fucking get.” He was being insane with it, driving ridiculously fast, you were certain he was planning to end your lives once and for all.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you screamed, regretting the moment you’d decided it would be sane and safe to not be wearing a seatbelt while on a car with a man who barely knew how to contain his anger tantrums.

“You wanted to stop, so we’re stopping the car. I’m stopping the fucking car!” he yelled back, slapping the steering wheel so loudly and with so much force that he accidentally winced in pain.

You were holding on for dear life, clutching onto the fabric of the seats and holding your breath down your throat, when he finally stopped with a turn that you were sure was a death sentence.

You didn’t even know where you were, where he’d driven. Your brain was permanently off after that reckless driving of him, making it clearer for you that you needed to leave him or at least threaten him about ending the relationship, giving him a break. There was no way he’d ever be clear enough to think straight, though, especially after your argument, especially after his dad’s death.

Man, he was really getting one slap after another.

“You’re not capable of handling a relationship, then you don’t fucking get to be in one! Go fuck yourself, Charlie!” you shouted at him as your hand went to clasp around the door’s handle, furious at him, but before you could even realize what was happening, Charlie had yanked you back by your shirt, sending you flying into his lap.

You yelped and tried to free yourself from his grasp, but he was holding you so tightly on him that you couldn’t move besides wiggle your legs. He looked both troubled and pissed, unsurprisingly hard to read. His eyes were cold and sharp, sparking as they glowered at you.

He wanted to say something. You could tell by the way his lips subconsciously moved as if he had the words right on the tip of his tongue, but were being choked up by him. He was weak with words, always had been. He thought of them as an action that you couldn’t take back, something like a pearl in your head that you’d be able to roll around as you reminisce. He hated words.

The second time you tried to pull away from him, he kissed you. Attached his lips forcefully into yours, causing you to gasp and completely stop moving. It took you a little to comprehend the situation, but once the warm feeling of his mouth moving against yours kicked in, you reciprocated the kiss with the same urge and compulsion.

“I need you,” he murmured into your ear as he rubbed his nose against the soft flesh of your cheek, wrapping his hands around you so tightly that he wouldn’t have to worry about you trying to make an escape again. With each hand firmly positioned on the sides of his neck, you pulled him down on top of you, laying uncomfortably on top of the seats. You didn’t even care if your back was hurt by hitting the transmission stick a little too hard, or how he’d accidentally pulled a few hairs from a strand that was covering your face.

You lifted your leg up as he crashed his lips into yours again, extending over the top of the console and wrapping it around his waist, arousal already pooling in your underwear. Charlie had his way of kissing you; knew exactly how long it took you to get weak for him, to shut your mind off and beg him for more. He loved using it against you.

Loved how it turned you on the same amount it did for him. His left hand travelled in your hair, pulling it from the ends. His right was around your waist, just under the rim of your shirt, gripping your hip. His tongue peaked out of his mouth, exploring yours before pressing an open-mouthed kiss against your lips, detaching abruptly and creating a thin string of saliva between the two of you. His breath was hard to catch and so was yours, both still incredibly mad at one another. He stared at you blankly for a second, his hard-on growing against his pants as he looked over at your swollen, wet lips.

“You fucking dick,” you snarled under your breath as you angled your knee outward until it was tight on the dashboard. You urgently unbuttoned your jeans, then pulled him back toward you, kissing him passionately as your left hand searched for his, leading it downwards and eventually pressing it firmly onto your mound. Charlie groaned into your mouth, cock twitching painfully against the hard material of his trousers. He let his fingers feel down your body, stroking your clothed leg as his palm curved over your butt and down the back of your thigh. His touch was your cause of death.

“Scoot a little,” he instructed you, struggling to pull down your jeans, accidentally hitting the top of his head against the roof of the car. You tried to suppress the automatic laughter, simply choking out a chuckle, which Charlie hushed away the very moment he ground his covered erection on your pulsing core, soaked through your panties.

Your moan came out ridiculously loud, shadowing the pleased hum that fell from his lips due to the feel of your warmth and wetness, almost convincing himself that he was just a second away from losing it when he hadn’t even gotten to touch you yet. You took the chance to knee him in the crotch, livid at the fact that he was smirking at how ready you were for him, feeling all proud of himself, knowing that he was the only one to ever offer you that feeling — that kind of pleasure.

Charlie looked at you with lustful, blown pupils. You were pretty sure you were as much of a mess as he was, hair combed, clothes half off, red neck and ears, swollen lips and glassy eyes. You grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, the only thing covering your chest know being a black lacy bra. You swore you felt an orgasm creep up inside of you as the pad of his thumb made contact with your clit through the underwear, biting so hard down on your lip in order to not scream his name from the top of your lungs, hips subconsciously thrusting against his hand. You were embarrassed, on one side, but on the other, you couldn’t care less.

After all that was done, you were out.

Out of the car and out of his life, you’d decided.

“Fucking touch me already,” you demanded, but he responded negatively to your tone, pinning you down on the seat so tightly that it caused you to let out a tiny wince. With one hand, Charlie held your wrists down and over your head, while the other finally shoved your underwear out of the way. For a contemplative minute, he almost forgot that he was supposed to be mad at you.

How much he loved having you like this.

But he wasn’t going to say anything just yet. Maybe another time, in another case, where he wouldn’t utter it out during sex talk, where he was stronger than that, put his pride last instead of first. He didn’t want to break up with you, ever. To him, you were the one. It was hard to express, complex to explain — bless his heavy heart strings that only allowed him to pick all the wrong talks, places and times.

“Y’feel so good,” he murmured into your ear as he entered a finger into you, carefully enough not to hurt you with the rings he had on. “You fucking kill me whenever I see you. You’re too much, I can’t handle you, I just can’t.” The word came out of his mouth like honey and you had to dig your nails into his back, over his shirt, to stop yourself from cumming undone right then and there.

His finger curled inside your walls, following all the small bends and curves of the part of your body that needed him the most, sluggishly applying pressure and picking up place.

Your juices are dripping down your thighs, thing that helped him to easily add another finger in you. The mixture of his low groans, your choked moans and the slapping sounds of his hand rawing you was probably the biggest turn-on you’d ever experienced. All that in the middle of an empty street, in public view. All one had to do was peak over the windows of his car.

“Keep doing that, I’m so fucking close,” you purred into Charlie’s lips as you kissed him, giving permission to your hands to travel around the waistband of his trousers and undo the zipper.

“Yeah?”

“I want to fuck you.”

“Maybe another night,” Charlie replied with sureness as he suddenly dragged his fingers out of you and rubbing them against the skin of his bottom lip. You both wanted to punch the life out of him and not say anything at all, just enjoy the view of him licking your precum off his hand.

The image was so insanely sexy that you could orgasm just by looking at him and nothing else.

Charlie finally threw his black shirt off somewhere into the backseats, his trousers coming up next as he stood on top of you with just his boxers, which were pretty much a whole other level of mess; leaking with his own precum. He’d never looked so pretty before, so blown away.

It was visible to anyone with a single brain cell that he wanted to fuck you in a way of letting you know that you had no place to leave him, that he needed you more than anyone and more than ever. You opted not to comment on it, instead, leaving him be. Charlie loved angry sex, anyway.

Seemed that you were right after all — the twelve words he’d spoken had been the best foreplay.

“Charlie, I need you,” you pleaded beautifully, so desperately that he discarded his gray boxers immediately, taking his throbbing cock into his hand as he grazed the tip over your entrance, torturing you just a little. You cried out, wanting more, tired of his games. His heart pounded, close to beating right out of his rib cage.

Fuck it, he decided, as both of his hands grabbed your left hand and placed your open palm on his chest, right over his heart, and let it linger there. For the first time that night, you could finally understand what was going on behind his eyes. You smiled as he let go of your hands, running his fingers through your hair and gently guiding your face closer to his, eventually leaning himself in to rest his forehead on yours.

When he thrusted for the first time, you were already chasing after your high (and you were pretty sure the same thing could be applied to him as well.) The grunt he breathed was insane, sending you to heaven and back as you moaned along, realising that you didn’t want to repress yourself any longer. If he were to get cocky and insufferable, then so be it. You’d been used to it.

Your fingers flew into his hair, pulling at it and encouraging him to go deeper and harder. Charlie happily obliged, getting the message instantly as he whispered your name through every groan, beads of tension gripping one body on top of the other. Both his mind and vision were blurry as his thrusts frantically took off to a steady pace, fucking you so deeply, so roughly that he was sure it was hurting you. Why weren’t you stopping him? Why weren’t you telling him to slow down?

“Harder,” you hoarsed, and it nearly rocked his world. Charlie was quick to accomplish your request, filling you up with his dick so nicely as he fucked you through the pleasant moist of your combined bodily juices. He couldn’t comprehend how you weren’t scared of him damaging your body; instead taking lazy glances at you just to figure out that you were loving it, embracing him just right as you clenched so tightly against his dick, squeezing him gut-wrenchingly hard.

“Fuck — ‘m not going to last any longer,” he confessed while pressing his eyes shut, pursing his lips and trying not to fall apart on you yet.

“Just a little bit, Charlie,” you croaked, digging wounds into the muscles of his back with your nails, letting the roughness of his grinds and thrusts vibrate through your entire system, get you pathetically weak under his weight.

“‘M going to cum.” And with that, he gripped onto the sides of your outer thighs as he held still while still deep inside you, releasing hot jets of cum into you as you clamped down on his cock, following with your own earth shattering orgasm. You felt so full, so vulnerable and so fulfilled, all at the same time and it was overpowering. With an exhausted, loud groan, Charlie collapsed on top of you, squishing you as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing small pecks down on the curve of your shoulder as he tried to catch both his breath and untamable heartbeat.

“Charlie, I…”

“I just want to hear that it’s not over,” he interrupted you, still a bit breathless as you gave him a puzzled look. “I mean… I’m scared it’s over. Everything you said was right about me. I can’t offer you much, I’m terrible with relationships and I’m very fucking terrified of trusting someone. I’m not really good at showing my feelings.”

“There are many things you’re not good at.”

“I know. I know and I’m scared of getting my heart broken, because I genuinely believe I won’t be able to last one second without you. I’m in love with you,” Charlie finally confessed, trembling as he looked you dead in the eyes, hoping to catch the tiniest hint of response from them.

Your jaw hung slightly agape at his words, never in a million years expecting to hear him drop those words out of his mouth. You were on the verge of tearing up, grabbing him by the sides of his face as you pulled him down to kiss him sweetly on the lips, lingering there longer than needed. Charlie sighed in relief, chuckling with pure joy as he heard the following sentence reassuringly fall from your lips; “I love you too.”

FIN.

again, this is for my favourite person on earth @honeymvnt i hope you’ll like this ml 🫶🏼🎀

[jkasperj]

Are you jealous?

Note: this was requested by @cheeseballsaregood hope you like it!🫶

Pairing: Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x reader

Warnings⚠️: a lot of smut and bad language. I think that’s all:)

Summary: Maverick gets jealous and he reminds you that you are…his

As always, you woke up today at 5:00 AM and went for a run before joining everyone else on deck. Fortunately, you only had a few classes today and no practice. You really weren’t in the mood to stand Maverick’s annoying comments on your flying skills. It’s always been like that, since you got into top gun Maverick has had a weird name obsession with making fun of your age and everything that you do. Your brother Goose was 23 and Maverick was 22, so yeah, you were the youngest.

Dealing with Pete Mitchell was never easy, but you had gotten better.

When you made it to your seat, Goose and Maverick both took a seat by your side, placing you between them. “Hey, (y/c/s), we were planning on going to the bar tonight, you coming?” Goose asked you, but before you could answer, Maverick said “I don’t think kids are allowed at the bar”. You looked up to see him wearing that irritating shit-eating grin and you just left saying “I don’t think assholes are allowed either”.

Later that day, you found yourself on the beach with the boys for a volleyball game. Iceman and Slider had also joined and you could tell that Iceman was one good-looking man and you couldn’t help but look at him for a moment and Maverick noticed this. He didn’t like it one bit. You didn’t realize that you were staring at Iceman until a piece of clothing landed on your face hitting it softly. “Stop staring. It’s disgusting” you head Maverick say and you just laughed and said “you wish you looked like him” “I look better than him”.

During the whole game Iceman and Slider were checking you out, even flirting and Maverick didn’t like it at all, so he just threw the ball aggressively in the sand and stormed off. You noticed this and went behind him ignoring Goose’s calls to come back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” You were trying to get to him, but he was walking too fast. “We were having a good time!” He suddenly turned around and said “a good time!? You were not even playing! You were just flirting!” You couldn’t believe that he was mad about that. “Don’t be ridiculous! Why would you even care!?” “They were undressing you with their eyes!” When he said that, you realized that might be jealous, but it was impossible. He never gave any sign of him liking you. “Are you jealous?” He completely ignored your question and told you “get in the bike”. You did what he told you and got into his motorbike and he did the same before starting it off.

You and Maverick made it to his apartment and as soon as you both got in, he pinned you on the wall kissing you hungrily while taking off every piece of clothing he could reach.

When you both made it to his room, he quickly threw you on the bed and took off his own clothes “Turn around.” he said, his eyes were burning with desire.

You obeyed and laid on your stomach, your ass in the air. He stepped towards you, his hand feeling the smooth of your ass, and his hand smacked against you - hard. You whimpered and clenched your thighs, already feeling that primal urge.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re not going to be able to look at Kazansky anymore. You are mine” he smacked you again. “And you’re going to show me that you are mine” you moaned, eager to feel him in you.

You heard as he spat in his hand and let out a sigh as he slipped a finger into you. The soft sigh quickly turned a gasp as he shoved two more fingers into you, not bothering to escalate slowly and directly jumping to three fingers. You closed your thighs and he smacked you again.

“Fuck!” you groaned.

His thumb went to your clit and he began to pleasure you there too. You spread your legs, eager to feel him everywhere, and grabbed the sheets. 

“I want to hear you moan my name.” he said as he planted kisses on your neck. “Now.” 

You obeyed and opened your mouth. Your moans poured out like water shooting out of a dam. You moaned his name when his fingers slipped out of you, but yelled again as he slammed into you without warning.

His thrusts and hard from the get go, giving you no time to adjust. He grabbed your hair and yanked it back, pulling you against him. He attacked your neck, biting and sucking, and grabbed your breasts, squeezing and pinching.

You turned your head to kiss him but he pushed you down. He slammed into you, making you yell out in a mix of pain and pleasure, and smacked your ass with his hand. He pressed your head further into the mattress as his cock reached deeper into you. Tears were beginning to roll down your cheeks. 

In one quick movement he slid out of you and spun you around. Your eyes fell on his face and you nearly came right there. His hair was messy and his were sharp. He tugged you down and slammed back into you. His hand slid up your stomach and chest and rested around your throat. 

Your legs were spread wide open and you had a direct view of his cock sliding in and out of you. You moaned and John tightened his grip around your throat. He was close, you could tell by his movements.

His fingers went between you legs and he began rapidly playing with your clit. You moaned his name making him cum. He pressed into you, as deep as he could go, and dragged you into an orgasm with him. He rode you out, pushing his cum further into you, before collapsing on top of you in a sweaty mess, his cock still deep inside you.

Your thighs ached but you ached for more of him.

This type of smut was actually new for me, so I really hope it was not that bad😅

[thewulf]

Authority Thing || Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

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

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

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

Word Count: 3.7k +

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hummed delaying a second, “Everything alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged, “Still an authority, Captain.”

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

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

He looked at you incredulously, “How?”

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

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

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

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

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

He mimicked your actions, “Should you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

[topgun-imagines]

Will You Be My Wife?

Requested: yes

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

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Smut.

Pairings: Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ohthatstragic]

Sunday Nights - p.m

fuck he's so hot im on my knees

a/n: this was very fun to write.. wink wink. thank you very much to the amazing and kind anon that requested this! love you i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it! < 3 i adjusted it a lil bit to fit the way the fic was going so i hope you do like the way it turned out, if not i can rework it!

also pls don’t repost or translate any of my work.. i don’t give you permission to do that.

pairings: maverick x reader

warnings: light smut, minors dni, age gap

wc: 2,081

the request: Can you write one with maverick where he and the reader are in the middle of sex and he stops saying he's regretful and shouldn't do this to her and she keeps thinking that she is the problem and starts crying (but the reality is that he feels dirty because of the age gap between then)?

You can decide the end and it can be light nsfw (it doesn't have to be heavy nsfw). read it in full here

the songs i listened to whilst writing this: yebba's heartbreak - drake, yebba, the color violet (slowed) - tory lanez

The rain pelted at the windows as Maverick's wet tongue licked a warm stripe up your neck, his fingers tenderly coming to rest upon your cheek. You watched as his eyes shot up to yours, blinking slowly, as he pulled a quiet moan from your parted and bruised lips. A smile found your features and you gazed up at him, your fingers resting on his back, slowly trailing down and slipping underneath the white tee that he currently wore. Maverick's soft eyes twitched at your cold touch grazing against his warm skin, and you giggled at his reaction, planting a sweet kiss against his smiling lips.

"What are you laughing at?" He whispered, his teeth poking out from the smile that spread from ear to ear.

"Nothing." You responded, sighing softly. Never had you been this happy and content. "Just you... being cute." Another quiet giggle escaped you and it made Maverick's smile widen.

"Cute?" He repeated, raising his brows in an incredulous manner as he beamed from above you. You nodded your head at him, grinning this time. You and Maverick had been dating for a couple months, and he was reluctant to do so due to the age gap that sat between you two, however you assured him it was okay with you. In fact, it was sort of a turn on for you. In Maverick's mind, he loved you, truly he did, but he couldn't help but feel that lingering pang of guilt in his heart. He believed you deserved someone younger than him - someone that could live longer than he might do. The man couldn't ignore the intrusive thoughts that invaded his mind either; the ones where he despised himself for doing such a thing as dating a young thing like you. He couldn't help but feel... dirty, in a way.

"What's wrong with that?" You frowned, letting your fingers slip to the top of his blue jeans, poking in for a brief second. Your grin widened in amusement as you watched his face twitch again from your advances. "A lil' sensitive, Mav?" You teased.

The gentle rumble of a chuckle resonated from your boyfriend's chest, and you felt a fiery shiver smother your body. "You're a little confident tonight, huh?" Maverick narrowed his eyes at you, his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek in a curious manner. You narrowed your eyes back at him, bringing your fingers up to his chest to fist his shirt, pulling him downwards so his lips would connect with yours. An appreciative, low hum vibrated against your lips as Maverick caved and kissed you, his fingers moving from your cheek to your hair, massaging your scalp. The pair of you got lost in the lustful kisses you shared as the chorus of raindrops pattering against the glass windows echoed throughout the room, almost as if nature had produced music just for you two. Moonlight pierced through the lacy, white curtains, casting a patterned shadow over your bodies as you kissed on Maverick's messy and now-dishevelled bed.

As the kiss deepened, your hands swiftly slipped underneath Maverick's shirt in a desperate attempt to rid him of his clothes, your fingers craving the warm, smooth surface of his well-toned and muscular body. Maverick got the hint and he quickly removed his hands from your hair and skimmed them underneath the hem of his shirt, pulling the article of clothing off and throwing it behind him. You let your fingers roam free across his torso, relishing in the unspeakable noises that you were prying from his pink, swollen lips. His long fingers soon returned to your writhing body, finding the straps of your old, greying white tank top. He slipped a strap down, his rough hands caressing the soft curve of your shoulders. A quiet moan left your lips as you quickly slipped your hands underneath your shirt and removed it as quick as Maverick did his. The cold night air soon shivered over your body and you felt goose bumps erupt on your skin from the sudden change in temperature.

Maverick pulled away from your lips gradually, beginning to trail his lips across your jaw, peppering small, sweet kisses down your neck, his eyes never leaving yours as you watched him. Your hands enveloped his head, fingers burying themselves selfishly within his thick, dark hair, gently squeezing as his teeth grazed against your supple skin. The air that surrounded the pair of you was hot and heavy. You gasped as Maverick nibbled against the mound of your breast, his tongue giving soft licks against the skin, his eyes closing slowly as he let his hands wander your bare, naked torso. Swallowing thickly, you shuffled a little impatiently, reaching your hands to his jeans to fumble against the button and zipper. Maverick's spare hand caught your hungry hands and raised them and slid his gaze up to meet yours once more.

"Wait," He mumbled, the low-pitched tone of his voice sending your mind reeling. You whined at his actions - you were desperate for him, more specifically you were desperate for him to be inside you. You wanted to be as close as possible to Maverick; the affair between your body and his was so vital to you. In defeat, you let your head loll back against the fluffy pillow behind you, and you relaxed your hands as Maverick let go of them, his own ones returning to pay some overdue attention to your chest. His deft fingers kneaded your soft flesh, tongue poking out of his mouth to circle your awaiting nipple. At the warm touch, he pried a hushed moan from you and a proud smile reached his lips as he continued his nightly endeavour.

"Oh, Pete," You moaned quietly, fingers finding themselves gripping strands of his hair again. "That feels amazing." Your back arched out of instinct from the pleasure that Maverick was currently providing you with his expert tongue and lips. Daring to let your hands slide down to his waist again, you let your hands rest on his hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Please, Pete," You begged. Maverick looked up from your breasts, watching your face twist into an expression of desire. He smiled at you, and gave way to your beautiful face. The pilot adored how he made you feel - the way your cheeks flushed pink with heat, the way your eyes glinted with a sparkling mix of lust and love, the way you bit down on your lip in an attempt to suppress forthcoming moans. Maverick sat up, his hands falling to his jeans and you eagerly watched him unbutton them, revealing a pair of tented black boxers. You whined at the sight, your fingers quickly discarding the underwear that was secreting your soaking mound.

As Maverick shuffled toward you, he seemed reluctant, making your mind suddenly scurry with anxious thoughts. Maverick noticed your change in aura, and he felt the guilt return to him. He quickly threw you a reassuring smile and you seemed to relax again as he slipped his fingers underneath the band of his undergarments, removing them completely. Nothing changed about how you felt about Pete's appearance every time you saw him in the nude. As a matter of fact, you fell deeper in love with him each time your eyes explored his magnificent form. You'd thrown the anxious thoughts behind you as he came closer to you, his breath heavy, pressing the tip of his thick cock against your anticipating, wet folds. But the way Maverick carried himself made you doubt yourself again. Moments later, a heavy sigh drew from his lips and you felt your eyes well up with tears the moment he pulled away, quickly slipping his boxers back on. He slipped onto the edge of the bed and you felt the mattress sink down from his weight. 

"Pete..?" You quietly asked and swallowed back tears. Peering up at him as he sat on the edge, you felt your heart sink when you saw how his hands held his head, elbows resting against his knees. "Are.. are you okay?" You couldn't hide the way your voice cracked out of sorrow at the end. Maverick instantly looked back at you and a meek smile picked at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, sweetheart." He assured you, turning back to face the ground again. Silence consumed the room you two sat in, the loud rain having stopped some time ago. Your hands slowly reached to pick up your underwear and tank top that was strewn across the side of the bed, slipping it on. Was it something you said or did? Does he not like how you look anymore? Why is he acting like this? Thousands upon thousands of doubts and gut-wrenching questions ran through your mind and you couldn't help the tears that began to spill down your cheeks.

Maverick's head perked up at the sound of your sobs, and he turned around to face you, his face falling at the sight of you. "Oh, sweetheart, no, don't cry." He sighed, rushing to press his body against yours in a hug. His strong arms enveloped your smaller figure and you sobbed harder, your teardrops sliding down your cheeks gleaming like diamonds in the moonlight that shone through the parted curtains.

"Did I do something? I-is it me?" You cried softly, sniffling. Maverick shut his eyes as he felt his body go limp, his heart wrenching at how he could have let you think this was your fault. He was a fool through and through.

"Y/N, no, it's not you," He whispered against your hair. "It's.. I.." Maverick stumbled as he shook his head, making you look up at him through your teary, wet lashes. "I feel like I'm taking advantage of you, Y/N." He finally said. You instantly frowned, the crease between your brows making the corner of Maverick's lips twitch into a tiny, sad smile.

"You're being ridiculous, Mav." You were speechless at his confession. How on earth could he feel like that? Did you make him feel like that? A feeling of guilt suddenly hit your chest. "Baby, I didn't make you feel like that, did I?" Your voice was soft and shaky, laced with worry.

"No, no," Maverick hummed through pursed lips, biting down on his lower lip as he watched you nuzzle your head into his bare chest. "Sometimes I feel like you deserve someone younger than me, sweetheart. I feel like I shouldn't be doing this, like I'm wasting your time. Don't you want someone like... Rooster?" He mumbled, failing to hide the way his voice fell. You whipped your head around to face him, your Y/E/C eyes squinting in confusion. How did he just say that so confidently?

"Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell," You huffed, shocked at his words. "There is no one else on this god-forsaken Earth that I would rather spend my time with," You stared into his reddening baby blue orbs as you felt your heart yearn for him. A small smile picked at his lips as you continued to stare at him, your hands coming up to hold his hot cheeks. "Actually, rather spend my life with." You corrected yourself with a quick chuckle and Maverick's smile widened as he leaned in to kiss you, in which you of course accepted with grace. "And for the record, I don't want a Rooster. I want a Maverick." The pilot laughed at your words, warming your heart. "Don't ever doubt yourself again, Pete. I love you, and I want you forever."

"You know, I think the feeling is mutual, sweetheart." He teased, earning himself a roll of your eyes. You felt warm and at home as you watched him smile at you, feeling an overwhelming amount of love fill your heart. "I love you." Maverick whispered, pressing another kiss against your awaiting lips.

"I know." You giggled, grinning as Maverick pressed a trail of kisses from your lips to your jawline, his arms circling around you in a tight hug. "Please don't scare me like that ever again, though. Promise me." You murmured, glossy eyes peeking up to catch his gaze. Maverick's lips spread into a lop-sided smile as he stared down at you in front of him, his hands releasing you from the hug to cup your cheeks, his thumbs brushing against them lovingly.

"I promise, Y/N." He hummed, pulling you close to plant a kiss that would kick-start a night full of passion and fond memories that you would surely reminisce about in the near future.

my masterlist

how to request something

tag list:

@hlstead

@callsign-sunshine (i'm sorry i couldn't remember whether you asked to be tagged in future fics or not, forgive me if i'm wrong)

[jackiequick]

Duck, duck, duck, duck, Goose! | Top Gun Fanfic 🧸

Top Gun AU✈️

——

Pairing: Nick Bradshaw x Carole Bradshaw , Pete Mitchell & Tom Kazansky

Summary: When it came to kids Carole, Iceman and Maverick only had to worry about two. Bradley and his young brother, Dane. Then came Jenny. It seemed fit, 3 for 3! But when another Mitchell kid, came along they realized they had more on their hands. 4 for 4!

Characters mentioned/include: Audrey, Buzz, Wraith, Slider, Hazel, and the rest of the 86’ class

Timeline: Post-Top Gun (1986), Pre Top Gun Maverick

Warning: Canon character death mentioned

Fic type: Fluff and humorous, with small moments of angst

Previous fic —> Click here

———

There were moments like this where if you told Maverick and the others years ago, that kids would be part of the agenda they would’ve laughed at you so hard and through you were crazy.

But then the kids started coming over the years.

It started with Goose and Carole. High school sweethearts destined to get married and have kids of their own, where everyone can only wish to have a portion of what they had.

Of course, they had little Bradley Bradshaw or baby goose as he was nicknamed.

Adorable little blonde boy with cubby cheeks and a curious little smile that meant determination. He looked just like his father in every way, Maverick would tell his nephew that years to come.

It was great being a little group of 4. Memories made and laughs saved.

But sadly, then Goose died after a training accident while Carole and Bradley were there to visit them. Maverick felt horrible, so did Iceman, Audrey and the rest of the 86’ class. Gloomy painful days were to come after that.

However there was a flip side, a little surprise to come after the clouds were blowing away.

And that little beam of sunlight became Dane Bradshaw many months later.

Carole didn’t know she was pregnant at the time until Audrey pointed out how fuzzy she felt lately and honestly they couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

Maverick lightly joked, “Wow! I guess Goose really take you to bed.”

“Oh Mav, play nice and that was a little secret.” Replied the Carole with a smile joking back.

Sunset chuckled, “And made sure to leave a bag of surprises afterwards.”

—

Goose really did leave a bag of surprise afterwards but they didn’t know that yet until years later.

Duck, duck, duck, duck, Goose!

—

Dane Bradshaw was the spitting image of his mother with such a warmth and gentle smile to him, he was nicknamed pooh bear.

Him and Bradley were only 2-3 years apart in age, but there will be moments where they acted like they shared the same brain cell. Being silly little ducklings, surprising people with their charm and sweet tactics.

There were days Carole would come home to the kids (along with Maverick) causing a mess in the house baking. Days where the boys will go playing with water guns and end up getting Audrey’s clothes wet.

Or with Iceman, where Bradley would show their uncle an idea for an airplane to build with boxes and other items in the house. Meanwhile Dane would collect all the ideas, wanting to go big or go bold enough to shine with their plane where Ice couldn’t have the heart to say no.

Other times, Dane was the sweetest thing in the whole entire world. A gushing image is a gentle breeze holding up flowers to his aunties such as Hazel and Audrey, making get well cards for his mama. Hugging his uncle Mav and teasing his uncle Ice with a little grin.

But he was also very protective, him and his brother, being a guard dog when it comes their mother. That goes for Hazel, Valkyrie, Audrey and whatever other lady in their lives.

————

Speaking on ladies, they were surprised at the time she arrived. It was an unexpected surprise indeed as for she came at an old hour of the night. No alert, no phone call or an letter from the post man.

Just an knock on the door in a carrier held the first half of The Mitchell-Bradshaw clan. Jennifer Penelope Mitchell, or as she was nickname princess.

Don’t worry she gets a handful of nicknames later on, so do all the kids!

Pete and Ice were in total shock at the bundle of joy brought to their attention but welcomed her with open arms nonetheless.

It took Maverick a long couple of hours, even days to fully get his head around the fact he had a daughter.

It wasn’t until Carole met her and saw the cheeky little smile that she said, “Yup, Pete she’s yours alright!”

“Yes she is.” Audrey added, blowing raspberries into her cheek.

The girls fell in love with Jenny overnight, engulfed by her sweetness but since she was Mav’s kid the girl hated to sleep and very silly. According Iceman she was stubborn like her father but Audrey would say she’s stubborn like him instead.

When Carole brought the boys to meet their cousin/future best friend, Bradley was taken back by Jenny and Dane was curious rather shy about the ideas.

“Mama! Does that mean I have to share a room with her too?” Bradley asked pointed to the girl.

“Wha’ she do?” Dane added, his vocabulary and grammar not very accurate yet.

It was silly, since Dane Bradshaw was close enough be to around less than 2 years older than her but he was curious about the situation, not wanting to share the spotlight with anyone. Same thing when for Bradley, even though he was the oldest.

Carole had to correct them saying, “No boys, you don’t have to share a room with her. And she is just a baby, so she doesn’t do much yet. But I think you guys are gonna like her a lot.”

And as always, Carole Bradshaw is correct!

Since Bradley quickly warmed up to Jenny wanting to show her everything and take the girl everywhere he went like the big brother he is to Dane. Especially when Jenny got older he got to joke around, watching over her and and play with her a lot more.

Bradley nicknamed her Jenny Penny.

Dane, since they were somewhat closer in age range per say, the two were pretty close. Dane being softer, very silly toward the girl and more importantly being protective, catching up on new things with things he learned at school and playing with her a lot of the time.

He nicknamed her JenJen.

Eventually the boys would give her the classic nickname and future callsign, JenPen.

But Jenny Mitchell wasn’t the one who got nicknames, because to her Bradley was Brad Brad and Dane was Danny Boy.

Even though as the years went on, her nicknames for them changed to Chicken and Engineer.

———

Soon enough Baby Goose, Pooh Bear, and Princess had a 4th to complete the group (hopefully)…

…Daffy Duck!

Other name being used for Austin Mitchell.

If one Mitchell kid wasn’t enough, look no more to a second one! That was another surprise that left Carole, Iceman, Audrey and Maverick himself flabbergasted at the news. But it’s wasn’t an total surprise since Maverick was known for being in the dating scene a long time, falling in and out of love with several women because the attraction was a strong thing.

Like a lot things, it never lasted too long ending up in heartbreak, loneliness and confusion, thinking it was a short fling.

But as we learned that every actions has an equal opposite reaction. That resulted in his son, in which he chuckled and sighed in awe of the little smile that entered his world. He fell in love with his kid the moment he met him.

Slider joked, “Alright, either Maverick needs to do something about the love making around here or Goose had an grand ol’ conversation about bringing four ducklings with the big man upstairs when he left?!”

Iceman glared at his best friend jokingly, “Very funny, buddy. There is no way Mother Goose had this all figured out and planned for this to happened. It was just fate!”

Maverick shut them both up carrying his son in his arms and said, “Oh shut it you two! Before we know it you’re popping out kids of your own.”

Carole smiled, “My husband wouldn’t do such a thing, even if he did I think theses were gifts. Look how cute they are!”

~~~~~

Two blondes and two brunettes, all wrapped into a cute little gift baskets from Mother Goose himself.

“Yeah no Slider’s right, Nicholas Bradshaw brought down four ducking after his departure!” Audrey added a few minutes later.

~~~~~

Austin Mitchell was a spitting imagine and reminder of his father, times 10! From his brownish-green eyes to his nose, even the floppy mess of chocolate brown locks. His smile was no different, giggling about his favorite things and moving around with so much energy that he could become the next marathon runner for god’s sake.

But like any kid here, especially a kid that belongs to Maverick Mitchell, Austin was a clumsy boy knocking into everything and getting himself stuck in troubling situations. It was cute but also kinda annoying.

“A little tornado warning should come with him.” Joked Wraith once he met the boy with a smile.

Nonetheless he was loved. Jenny was only two years old when she got her baby brother, wanting to parenting him and keep the little guy out of danger with a pout. But then again, she was also very clumsy and cheeky herself so they both ended up in a little sticky situation.

Seriously, both kids were found in the kitchen once eating one of their father’s favorite sweet treat, being honeybuns, while on the floor giggling.

Iceman snorted so loud seeing his niece and nephew happily eating the dessert that his only questions was, “How did you two get your hands on it in the first place?”

“Unca Iceee!” Austin only yelled with a little smile and sticky fingers.

“You wan’ some?” Added Jenny with the similar little smile.

Other times, Austin would be the only one brave enough for certain things, dragging Bradley along to meet new people such as when they met Wraith or Buzz for the first time. Austin scared poor Wraith with his chaotic tendencies meanwhile Buzz laughed his ass off.

Plenty of times, that chaotic charm the young boy naturally held would bring a smile to the faces he meets, like when he met Ark and Hazel. When Austin finished hanging out with Hazel, she wanted to keep this boy for herself.

…but there were some moments where Austin’s shining personality mixed with the wrong crowd.

Let’s just say Ice and Mav enrolled him into little league baseball practice for one week, but midway through that same week the coach had to call Audrey to take the kid back home. Because due to Austin’s style, tiny temper and competitive nature when his team wasn’t winning, he decide to use his baseball bat and hit one of the kids from the other team with it.

The kid went as far as to chase the other children around the field in revenge and when Audrey heard that, she couldn’t help but laugh out loud. She knew it was a bad thing and they probably had to enroll him into a different sport, but the image in her head of her nephew chasing the other kids around like a Looney Tune character was too funny.

“Yup, he was definitely Pete’s son.” She said with a smile, picking up her nephew to take him out for ice cream and a small lecture onto how it’s not nice to hit people.

Let’s just say Audrey wasn’t the only one laughing at the news that day about why Austin Mitchell might not return to baseball practice that week.

————

Speaking of Austin, since he was hopefully the last baby for now at least, they decided to set up a color coordinated system for the kids.

That meant if gifts were given, certain items were being delivered, and everyday things like cups, hats, sweaters, backpacks, socks and or etc. each child had their own version of one.

Hell, each kid had certain days set on the calendar, where they all had to do something the other wanted. Like park, mall, trips to the beach and or going to the movie theater.

It was Carole’s idea! So there were no fighting, especially since they were all so little at the time.

Bradley’s things always had a cherry red dot, cute little red label or red post it note on them. (Sometimes apple or red-orange color)

Dane’s things always had a sunny yellow dot, little yellow label or yellow post it note on them. (Sometimes bumblebee or yellow-green color)

Jenny’s things always had a rosy pink dot, little pink label or pink post it note on them. (Sometimes lilac or pink-red color)

Austin’s things always had a sky blue dot, little blue label or blue post it note on them. (Sometimes olive or blue-green color)

And honestly, it was pretty helpful at the time when they were just little kids. Since they knew once they got older, all four of them would pick certain colors to wear, act differently for types of situations and understand the concept of what is not their stuff, don’t take.

But of course like any set of children, no matter what you did or how many times you had to lecture them about a topic, they will always fight about something. Like toys, bedding, backpacks, clothes, food and things to do together.

Like when Bradley and Dane were fighting over a certain Star Wars backpack they saw at Walmart to take for back to school time.

Or when Austin and Jenny were arguing about a DC LEGO sets they both wanted to buy, Batman or Superman sets.

They were kids! You can’t prepare for everything, so the parents always stepped in making the decision for them or had to settle on a small compromise on what’s the verdict. 

——

Nonetheless, they were good kids that’s what matters.

Yes, they were all different ages with vastly different views on things and personalities but that’s what makes them unique.

They care about their children way too much and thanked Goose for sending such a wonderful set of surprises and memories to come.

But the question that the adults tend to have on their minds was, how would the world handle their set of ducklings as they grow up?

What kind of experiences they will have?

Who will fall in love and who will get their heart broken?

Will there be friends or foes that come they’re way?

So many questions but only time will tell…

———

Thank you so much for reading this! 🎬 I know, it’s not exactly formatted like my other stories per say but it was an interesting way to introduce theses kids.

What was your favorite part? 💕

Please like, share and comment for more stuff like this! ✈️

Tags: @gcthvile @msrochelleromanofffelton @gaminggirlsstuff @topgun-imagines @starkleila @whitewiccan @comfortzonequeen @sherloquestea @theloveoftoms @mandylove1000 @mallowbee4 @rooster-84 @djs8891 @novavida and etc

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Daughter of Rock N Roll 🎸| Pete Mitchell Imagine/TGM Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist | Read ‘It’s A Long Way To The Top’ & ‘The Rockstar, Her Husband, & Their Dagger Ducklings’ first!

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

Content Warnings: Fluff, slight profanity, flirtatious banter | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 3.3k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: when the squad discovered their former Captain was married to one of the most recognizable voices of rock n roll music, one could imagine the many questions they had. There’s always something new to learn about Y/n L/n-Mitchell. Or, how most of the world would know her by, the Daughter of Rock ‘N’ Roll.

Note: Y’all I can not say enough how happy it makes me you guys love me famous!reader x dagger squad pairing works! The rockstar one was my first one and since then I’ve had so many requests to do more! I have I think four in my inbox with Rooster, Coyote & Fanboy so I’m so excited to get started on those. Again I just as you be patient with me if you sent in a request! I’m approaching my last quarter of school so finals are around the corner and I am focused on passing you know 😅 but once summer hits I should be posting more frequently! 🤍

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“So you met Elvis?”

The question sounded the same as it always did when asked. Awe. Wonder. Amazement. All the words that were similar. Always was it met with a smile from Y/n, the memory surfacing in her mind as clear as though it had taken place yesterday.

“I did,” she thanks Pete as he hands her a beer, scooching on the couch to allow him space beside her. Scattered around the bonfire were the daggers either in chairs or couches, nursing their own drinks as the sun descended on the horizon. The dogs were with them too. Ice laid beside Y/n and Mav’s feet, Bella found a cozy spot within Javy’s lap, and Goose took claim to the spot beside Bradley.

“Long time ago. It was 1976–I was twelve years old and my parents had gotten all of us tickets to see him perform in Atlanta. It was a great show,” she smiled fondly at the memory, “then afterwards we left the venue and happened to run into him. I was starstruck as you can imagine. There he was dressed in his red outfit. Hair slicked back and dazzling smile. And I don’t remember asking him to sign my program but I guess I did. All I can remember is him asking what I wanted to be when I grew up—to which I said, “I wanna be a rockstar.’”

Chuckles echo around, the pilots all leaning in their seats with eyes full of fascination. Y/n brought a finger to her chin, deep in thought, “he laughed and handed me back the program saying, ‘Don’t lose that dream, little one.’ Like my mom I was devastated the next year when he died….but I always remembered those words. To never lose my dream.”

Fanboy gestured inside the house, “how’d you get his guitar?” He was referring to the one mounted on the wall of guitars with the icons signature. It was the only one on what the dagger squad liked to call the ‘Guitars of Fame’ to be either once owned by a renowned musician or signed by one. Y/n had one from Prince in her collection as well as a Stratocaster signed by all the members of Queen.

“Charity auction. Back in the late 90s I wanna say it was,” she looked to Pete to see if he could confirm if she was right. At his nod she added, “The reason I wanted it was because it was the one he used at the concert I went to. So when I look at it, it brings me back to that moment of meeting him and as a reminder I achieved that dream he told me never to let go of.”

Javy whistles, causing Bella to perk up in his lap. “That’s so cool.” Murmurs of agreement sound with him, Phoenix crossing her legs in her lap as she asks, “is there anyone you’ve met or worked with who’s been a mentor to you and the band?”

“Diana Ross and Dolly Parton,” the woman doesn’t hesitate. “Gosh I love those women. Not only were they some of our biggest inspirations but they pretty much took us under their wing when we first started out. Even though we were in a completely different genre than both of them, they were like our ‘moms’ in the industry.” She put quotes around the word mom. “You have to remember we were all 14-15 when we were discovered. Being that young made us very vulnerable. Producers would try to take advantage of us—by not giving us the proper cuts or working us like dogs. Artists who’d been in the game longer were envious of the recognition we were getting.”

“You must never forget who you are,” Dolly’s voice echoed, wiping away the lone tear that had fallen from a young Y/n’s eyes. “The media are always going to try to put out the worst image of you. And you must never give them that satisfaction of bringing you down. As long as you know who you are here—,’ she points to her heart, “then they can never take it away from you.”

Y/n paused to sip her beer before continuing, “Dolly and Diana, were and still to this day, the best supporters of our career and always made sure we knew they were there to help if we ever needed them. Whether it be confronting an executive for unfair treatment or if we were at parties or award shows and felt uncomfortable. Saints they are. Absolute saints.”

A few more minutes passed of Y/n praising the two legends of music before they ventured off into discussing moments of Y/n’s career. Rooster of course knew everything so he didn’t ask anything, but would offer insight from time to time. “C’mon Y/n/n,” he waved a hand dramatically, “y’all’s Super Bowl performance is considered one of the best halftime shows and you think it was lackluster? I beg to differ.”

“I have to agree on Rooster with this one, honey,” Pete leans back into the sofa, arm going round her back. The rockstar scoffs, playfully rolling her eyes.

“It was raining the whole time!”

Rooster nearly stands from his seat, “That’s what makes it so iconic! You guys did that shit while it was raining down on you.”

“Yeah and I was shitting my pants the whole time thinking one of us was going to get electrocuted,” Y/n had to laugh. “And when I saw the same thing happen to Prince at his Super Bowl I thought, ‘Oh God I’m getting deja vu.’”

Payback shakes his head with a laugh, “Man I remember watching that live. I wanted to be there so bad—be in that crowd. You guys were phenomenal—and like Roo said, it really was the best performance of all time.”

Y/n gives a shy smile when they all agree, “You know one thing, I was really grateful I chose a black outfit to perform in. I was not going to have a repeat of 1992 with the whole white tank top scandal. Like it was even a scandal,” she makes a face, thinking back to that God awful interview with Diane Sawyer. “My goodness it’s not like I planned for the rain that night. And my tits were covered—,” she laughs at the wide-eyed expressions of some of the guys, “it wasn’t like I was letting them out free. But anyways you know how the media is when shit like that happens.” Y/n turns slightly to look at Pete, “You didn’t care, did you?”

He immediately shakes his head. “No. And even if you wanted to go topless it was your choice. Not my place to stop you.” His answer makes her let out a sigh of content.

“You’re just so perfect you know,” she pats his cheek before kissing it. The others watch on fondly, though Rooster makes a playful gag sound.

“Disgusting.”

“I’ll send you to timeout, Bradley.”

Eventually after some time the topic of Y/n’s name in the industry was brought up. The Daughter of Rock N Roll. All through her career people told Y/n how when she sang she sounded what an angel rebelling from God to be a rockstar would sound like. The epiphany of rock n roll, Y/n was dubbed it’s daughter by Rolling Stone magazine at the brink of the 90s after dominating the 80s.

“How’d you find out?” Bob’s eyes were wide with curiosity. They all were, leaning forward in their seats to hear better as the woman began to explain.

“We had just won our fifth Grammy,” she sets the picture, “the next day was the kickoff to the American leg of our world tour so we were barely paying attention to the press, tabloids, media, you know. I was running late that morning—can’t remember exactly why but when I got to the venue Ronnie was running at me with a magazine in her hand…”

“Oh my God, have you seen the news?!” Ronnie’s high pitched yell had the singer wince.

“Girlfriend, I woke up not even twenty minutes ago. What happened—who died?” Suddenly Y/n serious, fearful that someone they knew had passed. Being in the industry for over ten years made them face the loss of many friends they had accumulated along the way.

The face Ronnie makes sends relief, “no one died. But look—!” She pushes the magazine towards her friend’s face, Y/n scrambling to not drop her Walkman and coffee she was holding as she tried to grasp the object. “Look at what Rolling Stones have named you!”

Removing the sunglasses off her face lightening fast, no longer caring she spilled an entire cup of coffee she’d just purchased, Y/n let out a audible, “no fucking way,’ when her eyes read over the big letters on the cover of Rolling Stones Magazine.

“Y/n L/n is the Daughter of Rock ‘N’ Roll—like Micheal Jackson as the King of Pop and Aretha Franklin crowned the Queen of Soul, the powerhouse and voice behind Y/n & The Romantics from Atlanta, Georgia has become widely associated among critics and fans across the globe as the Daughter of Rock ‘N’ Roll right behind Elvis as its King.

“Did you ever think that would happen?” Payback’s question brought Y/n out of the memory.

“Never,” briefly she look into the house where the framed Rolling Stones magazine hung on the wall, “I was very shocked when I heard the news. Never did it occur to me I would have a title and I would say it’s the biggest honor I have as an artist in this industry. And nowadays you see titles being thrown around all the time, but back then it happened once in a blue moon. So when I heard the news I was like, ‘no fucking way,’.”

“See what I don’t understand is,” Jake cuts in with an odd expression. “How come they waited this long to induct you and the band into the Hall of Fame? To be honest y’all should’ve been in it ages ago.”

“Agreed,” Fanboy tips his beer.

Rooster raises his own, “amen to that.”

Y/n hesitates to answer, conflicted in her eyes that when she turns to look at her husband he could see she was unsure to answer. Pete gives her an encouraging nod causing her to exhale deeply.

“To, how do folks put it…spilling the tea?” Rooster snorted at the phrase, earning a scolding look from Y/n. “Don’t tease me. The whole thing with the Hall of Fame wanting this long is because they at one point—I think ten years ago—wanted to induct just me because of all the solo work I had done since we split up. But I wasn’t on board with that. If they were gonna induct me, they were gonna induct me as part of Y/n & The Romantics. All of us,” she emphasized. “We were a group for thirty years when we split. They have been my best friends since childhood—my ride or die. There was no way in hell I was going to accept an induction to the Hall of Fame without them.”

After a while of digressing that shocking news Javy decides to ask, “What was it like doing the USA for Africa? All those legends together—I still get chills everytime I watch the music video.”

Y/n lights up at the mention of ‘We Are The World’, “it was amazing. Nothing could really put into words what that day was like. When our manager approached us about it we were like, ‘Quincy Jones, Micheal Jackson and Lionel Ritchie want us on their song?’ We didn’t believe it. Then we got to the studio and oh my God,” she makes a gesture with her hands, “I was at a loss for words. Micheal was the first to greet us—it wasn’t the first time we’d met him but still, it was Micheal fucking Jackson. I met a lot of my close friends that day, Micheal included. Cyndi Laupher, Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Wonder, Tina Turner, Steve Perry, Kenny Loggins, Diana Ross.” Y/n lists off more of the artists featured on the track, each one making the daggers jaws drop even more. “They had paired me with Cyndi and I’ll never forget us hitting that note together. We both high fived afterward just absolutely in awe of the other.”

“Weren’t you also in the one they did in 2010 for Haiti?” Bob adjusts his glasses when the thought pops into his head.

The woman nods, “I was. Jaime Foxx had reached out to me personally about it and I immediately agreed. It was hard—especially with it only being a year since we lost Micheal and then of course the reason we were doing it. But it was just as amazing as it was twenty-five years earlier.”

“Do you still keep in touch with a lot of them?” Fanboy asks.

“Here and there,” she answers truthfully. “Whenever I run into them at events we briefly catch up. Of course nowadays with social media it’s more accessible to send a direct message if you don’t have their number. Most of the time I’m in contact with old friends and colleagues when we collaborate or plan to meet up at shows.”

“Who are the people you talk with the most?” Jake pitches in.

“Oh, Cyndi, Janet, Kenny, Lionel,” she lists off. “Bono from U2 and I have been friends for ages so I talk with him a lot. Lenny Kravitz is also someone I try to see often—as well as Chili and Tboz from TLC. We bonded with them since they are also from Atlanta. ”

Phoenix tilts her head, curiosity in her eyes, “Are you and the band collaborating with anyone for your next album?” Instantly Y/n perks up, a smile threatening to form and give herself away. Nat catches it and teases, “I swear to secrecy if you tell us.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Y/n laughs when Rooster pouts, throwing his hands out as he whines, “C’mon. When have I ever leaked your songs or upcoming projects? I think I’ve done pretty good—my track record is going on thirty years, you know.”

Pete laughs with his wife as the daggers begin to tease their fellow aviator. “Better to be safe than sorry, Bradley.” This earns the Captain a light slap on the chest.

“Oh stop,” she playfully scolds. “I’m only teasing.” She returns her attention back to Nat. “I can’t say much because a lot is still in the works….but, I can confirm we’ll be doing a feature with Lenny Kravitz.” Gasps and ‘holy shit’ fill the patio, Javy and Danny on the brink of losing their minds.

“Lenny fucking Kravits!”

“Oh it’s gonna be a hit. Number one on Billboard I’m telling ya.”

By now it was getting cooler outside. The sky was dark with stars twinkling above. Instead of having someone go inside to grab drinks for everyone the group decided to migrate into the living room. Pete distinguishes the fire, Y/n hauls the dogs in with Nat and soon the couches and chairs are occupied.

Jake rubs his jaw, “what would you say is the best advice someone has given you? And who,” he adds, “if you’re open to saying.” Y/n takes a moment to think about her answer. To be honest, she’d received lots of great advice in the 40 plus years of being in the industry from an array of people. There of course was Dolly and Diana who always gave a second opinion whenever needed. There was Michael, who told her to always have fun no matter what life threw at her.

“A long time ago,” she humed, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling while caressing the bottom of her chin. “I wanna say early 90s, I met Tony Bennett at an award show. Probably Grammy’s or Billboard, but he had approached me just before the show ended and we got to talking. I can’t remember exactly what was said in the conversation but I this always stuck with me,” pausing Y/n places her hand back in her lap. “He said, ‘Cherish the big moments—the milestones, the accomplishments, the things that will leave a legacy long after you’re gone..but also cherish the small moments. The ones you will look back on and remember fondly. As a time you were living your life as if the day was your last.’”

The words hit each of the officers. All taking it in as though Y/n was the one offering them the advice. Something about it resonated with each of them—thinking about their lives and careers. Where often they forgot to cherish little moments because they were overshadowed by big ones. An example for Natasha would be the one time her father gifted her flowers for when she made Lieutenant. Or when Javy’s brother surprised him for his college graduation. The big milestones were the reason the little things even happened.

Then you had all those times the squad would meet up at the beach for dogfight football. Or when a late night drive turns into carpool karaoke. Those small specks of time where you’re truly living in the present.

As Midnight approached the daggers took their leave. Most of them were staying on base or had nearby hotels so they waited a few hours after their last drink to leave. Though Bob was DD so he took most of them home.

Goodbyes were said with promises to meet up again soon. A few of the pilots were expected to report for an upcoming mission that week so they were all on high alert. Y/n of course was worried and gave a pep talk to each of them as they left.

When the house was finally cleared with only the couple and their dogs remaining, Y/n discarded the empty cans and water bottles before rinsing off the dishes. A yawn escaped her, leaning into Pete when he came up behind her, arms going to her waist.

“You know that can wait until morning,” he kissed her cheek, making her smile.

“I know, but I like waking up to see it’s already done. That way I can relax by sleeping in.”

Pete chuckled against her ear, “I leave you to it then. I’ll get the dogs settled and meet you in the room.” With a kiss to her lips, Pete removed himself and whistled for the hounds to follow him down the corridor. Their patter got lighter and lighter, silence filling the room once they were gone.

There wasn’t much to do in the kitchen or living room. Y/n hummed the tone of ‘Don’t You Forget About Me’ as she rinsed the plates and cups to put them in the dishwasher.

“I’ll be alone, dancing, you know it, baby,” she sang under her breath, nodding her head to the beat even though no music was playing. “Going to take you apart. I’ll put us back together at heart baby.”

“Don’t you, forget about me.”

After that was done Y/n took out the trash and placed it by the garage door to remind them in the morning. Next she wiped down the countertops and fixed the couch cushions. Finally the last thing to do was lock the doors and close the curtains.

Moving past the living room to head toward her bedroom, Y/n paused when she came to the wall displaying many photographs from her career milestones. “Don’t lose that dream, little one,” she could hear Elvis say to her as her eyes met the framed Rolling Stones cover in the center. The lighting of the image made it appear of just her silhouette, Y/n’s head tilted up with the echo of a smile on her lips. The microphone right beside her with Danny’s drums in the background.

“Y/n L/n is the Daughter of Rock ‘N’ Roll.”

Dated February 1992. Thirty years since the issue was released. And boy had it been a wild ride for the rockstar.

Brushing her finger over the image and then lightly tapping her knuckles against the glass, Y/n grinned as Elvis' words to 12-year-old self repeated in her head.

“Hope I made you proud, King.”

……………….

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry , @luckyladycreator2 , @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black , @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Consequences

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

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

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

WC: 3000+

This is Part 3 in the There Are Rules universe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Captain,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir?” you ask.

He laughs tensely. “Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You started it,” you say.

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

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

…

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

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

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

“You doing okay?” Phoenix asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maverick glances back at you warily. “Lieutenant?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh. “I noticed.”

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

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

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

“I was inverted before I even realized it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read Part 4

Tag List:

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

@wandering-wah

@callsign-sunshine

@ghost-heart34

@birdy-bat-writes

@matya4

@wkndwlff

@nyx2021

@bellamy1998

@oliviah-25

@alexxavicry

@army24--7

@thefandomimagines

@dracosluvbot

@smit41

@scenesofobx

@Criminalmindsandmarvel

@lunamoonbby

@malums-trash-can

@malindacath

@karleetakeenan

@callsign-echo

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@ginger-gabsq

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@risingtripletaurus

@callsignmaverick5

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

@hermaeusmorax

@littlebadariell

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

[simpforrooster]

i’ll let you know tomorrow.

pete ‘maverick’ mitchell x f!reader

summary: maverick is enamored with a new lady at the bar. turns out rooster talked mav up earlier.

t/w: brief mention of an age gap, alcohol, cursing maybe?

“Hey Mav, you got a little drool,” Hangman tells him, gesturing to his mouth with his beer bottle.

Maverick knew he was staring. He just didn’t realize how obvious he was being about it. The moment you stepped into the bar, Maverick was gone. He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you.

Rooster follows his godfather’s gaze, smiling upon seeing you. He’d met you earlier, a new computer engineer on base. Rooster knew Maverick would insta-fall in love with you.

You were absolutely Maverick’s type. So much so that Rooster didn’t think he’d be able to utter a word to you. He’d never seen his godfather so speechless. The man was practically undressing you with his eyes.

“Are you going to go talk to her? or just stare like a creep?” rooster asks.

maverick runs a hand over his face, about to accept defeat. “I don't even know what I'd say to her.”

Hangman rolls his eyes. “Grow a pair, Pops. I just might beat you to her.” Mischief dances in Hangman’s eyes, like he knew all Mav needed was a little competition.

Maverick meets Rooster’s eyes. “Maybe she’s lost that lovin’ feelin’?”

“Oh no, she hasn’t.” Rooster vehemently shakes his head, backing up from his godfather. Roos heard the story time and again from his mom. Ice shared it with her shortly after Goose’s death, hoping it would bring a smile to her face.

It did.

“Come on, your old man used to back me up. Now it’s your turn.”

Maverick hadn’t used this tactic on a lady since Charlie. It felt pretty sacred to her, and Nick. He wasn’t sure if he kept it filed away for so long for her sake, or Nick’s. With Rooster standing here, and Charlie happily married in D.C. he thought, what the fuck?

“We gotta help her find it,” Maverick pleads, praying Rooster caves before someone like Hangman steals her away.

Maverick gives Rooster his best pleading eyes. He has no idea who that girl is, but he can’t let her get away. He can’t bear to see Hangman with her.

Rooster throws back the remainder of his beer, silently conceding. Maverick jumps into the plan, effortlessly explaining everything as if he does this all the time.

As Maverick and Rooster perform for you, Mav immediately takes note of the pretty flush that dusts your cheeks. He wonders how many other ways he could make you blush. Catching Rooster’s eyes, Mav sees a ghost. For a brief moment, Maverick isn’t performing this schtick with Rooster, but rather his father. Bradley looked a lot like Carole when he was younger, but as he’s grown up, he’s Nick Bradshaw made over.

After the last note, Maverick holds your eyes, raising a brow. The smirk you grant him makes him weak in the knees as you pat the empty barstool to your left. Maverick smiles thanks to Rooster and Rooster retreats to the pool tables.

Up close, Maverick sees you’re much younger than he thought. Maybe even younger than Rooster. You don’t seem to mind though, Maverick taking note of how your body angles more toward him. He also notices the cocktail in front of you.

At least 21.

“You must do that all the time to have it so perfected,” you tease. Mav takes a swig of his beer, quickly glancing at the dagger squad. Rooster shoots him a thumbs up, while Coyote and Hangman make obscene gestures. He’ll have the two of them pay for that, of course.

“Ah, nah. This is only the third time. First two weren’t very successful,” Maverick tells you, following your lead by leaning a little closer to you. He figures he can blame the loud music for needing to invade your bubble.

“How’s this one going?” you ask.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow morning, but it’s looking pretty good so far.” He fixes you with the cocky smile of the 24 year old who last uttered the line.

“Is that right, Captain?” you quip. Mav’s eyebrow quirks in surprise that you know his rank.

“Your son told me all about you this afternoon during our meeting,” you gesture toward the squad.

Son.

Bradley referred to himself as Pete’s son. The feeling in his stomach almost rivaled the one you cause, your eyes silently begging for Maverick to get you out of this bar.

a/n: i recently watched the first top gun and melt every time mav tells charlie he will let her know in the morning. ugh. obsessed. had to write this.

[icexmav33]

Maverick: [comming into ices office after doing something stupid] on a scale from one to ten, how bad do you want to kill me right not?

Iceman: I’m hovering somewhere in the high thirties

[mqverick]

your woman || ‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ

mature themes, 18+

very detailed smut, dni if you’re a minor

“just use me up and then you walk away

boy, you can’t play me that way”

─── ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ───

Every time Charlie Babbitt opened his mouth, it seemed like a never-ending awards ceremony was on, a lazy smirk living permanently on the corners of his lips. It was as if the idea of someone questioning him was both amusing and absurd. Charlie’s ego was so immense, it practically had its own gravitational pull. It was the sun in his universe, with everything and everyone else relegated to mere planetary status.

If the work didn’t pay well, you wouldn’t had bared a single second next to him, leaving to finally rest at your home with his excessively loud yelling still ringing in your ears, the annoyed sighs, the rude commands. To sum things up, Charlie Babbitt was the kind of man to drive you insane even if you were walking on sunshine.

It surprised you when he first announced that he’d preferred little old you over Lee to come along with him on a business trip in Palm Springs.

The response that rolled on the tip of your tongue at first was a big fat no. Why on earth would you want to spend an entire weekend with that nerve wrecking boss of yours when you could just enjoy the rewarding silence and comfort of your own home? But then again, when Charlie had his mind set on something, he stuck with it until the end.

In other words, whether you liked it or not, you were going on a little ‘getaway’ with him. Turned out, though, that his plans got disrupted by the sudden death of his father, forcing him to take a turn and drag you along to Cincinnati, where the funeral was taking place. You found out later on in the car that Charlie wasn’t the biggest fan of his father due to the lack of emotion he showed throughout the ride. You didn’t care to ask, simply letting out an annoyed groan every now and then to piss him off even further.

For four hours, you were participating in a scoff contest with him, winner would be the one with the longest, most pained sigh. Things got even worse — if possible — after Charlie spoke to the family lawyer about his inheritance, which was as disappointing as getting to work for him all day long. Couple of rose bushes and a stupid car.

“For fuck’s sake, Charlie, can you quit complaining about everything?” you yelled at him after deciding that you’d had about enough.

“Quit complaining?” he repeated, looking at you as if you were a lunatic. “Tell you one story. Just one. You know that convertible out front? My father loved that car more than he loved his family. It’d always been off limits to me. Tenth grade, I’m sixteen and for once I bring home a report card and it’s almost all straight A’s.”

You glanced at him, impressed with the statement, whistling out a low ‘ooh’. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Babbitt,” you commented and he had to break the eye contact for a minute, flushed with embarrassment and a light blush.

“Don’t look so damn surprised, Jesus. So, I go to my dad. Can I take the guys out in the Buick? A victory drive, you know. Says no, but I sneak it out anyway, take the keys. We’re on the Lakeshore Drive; four kids — and we get pulled over. He’d called in a report of a stolen car, not his son took the car out without permission. Just… stolen.”

“I’m getting bored of your sob story.”

“Shut up, will you?” he gritted through his teeth, sighing when you faked a yawn to demonstrate how deeply nonchalant you felt about his story.

“Get to an end, it’s been years.”

“Cook County Jail. Other guys’ dads bail ‘em out in an hour. He left me there two days. Drunks were throwing up everywhere, psychos eyeing me up… That was the only time in my life I was gut scared. Shit-your-pants fucking terrified. Left home, never came back and here I am.”

By the end of his memory, Charlie was trying to choke back a couple of tears that burned through his blurry eyes. His back was turned to you, he hated getting weak, felt as though the Trojan walls he’d built to keep up his mental strength had been bombed, collapsing into crumbles.

You said nothing — couldn’t bring yourself to. You weren’t used to being around that Charlie, had no idea how to react. Under normal conditions and had you not despised his guts, you would’ve hugged him so tightly that the air would get knocked out of his lungs, but it felt wrong, inappropriate for the moment. You settled for a tight-lipped smile instead, standing up and grabbing the second pillow from the bed, tucking it under your arm along with a blanket.

“Looks like you need the bed more than I do.”

Not even a goodnight. He didn’t bother to say another word to you either, so you called it a night, hugging the uncomfortable pillow closer to your head as you shivered under the blanket, wishing that you could’ve gotten the bed instead of the couch. Charlie deserved it that night, though. It was probably the least you could do for him, seeing as your way with words wasn’t exactly a delight. Sleep wasn’t on your side either.

Spent a couple of moments tossing around in agony, until you eventually decided to get up, blanket wrapped loosely around your shoulders as you rummaged through the library in the living room, encountering a photo album. You looked around in the room, making sure that Charlie was still in his room and placed the heavy album on your lap, carefully turning the pages.

Charlie at four years old. Then a bit older, standing alone in the picture, scrawny chest, baggy trunks. You had to stifle a chuckle, the pictures of younger him amusing you.

───

You both woke up early the next day, wind blowing through your hair as Charlie drove to the beneficiary down at the Lynwood Home. Just some stuff I have to wrap up for my dad’s estate, was the only explanation he gave you as he turned down the narrow road, clearing the crest of a hill now, a huge white building coming into view. A country estate, you reckoned.

Charlie continued toward it, approaching a man painting at an ease near the side of the road, shielding whatever he was working from the view by having his back turned to you.

“Excuse me, that place up there is the Lynwood Home, isn’t it?” But the man didn’t acknowledge Charlie in any way and you had to hold back a chortle. Nevertheless, he continued his way into the building, asking you to wait for him outside (wouldn’t take long, he said) as he sorted out the beneficiary issue that seemed to taunt him.

Not being in a mood for arguing, you did as you were told, patiently sitting in your seat as you shuffled through the radio station, trying to find a catchy song to listen to. You gasped in surprise when the sudden presence of a man sat next to you at startled you out of your boredom.

“Hello, can I help you?”

No response.

His hands were firmly grasped around the steering wheel as he started intently at it. Didn’t move at first, just stayed still for a couple of seconds before he began murmuring something that you couldn’t really make out. You tried to get him out of the car, but he flinched as if your touch was scorching against him in every intention of pushing him away. At some point, you gave up and hoped the man would leave when Charlie would come back, otherwise he was bound to hearing it from him very loudly.

Which indeed happened when he finally returned, rudely asking the poor guy to get going. Raymond, as you found later he was called, had other plans though. Apparently — and it came as much as a shock to you as it came to Charlie — he was his brother. Son of Sanford Babbitt.

Raymond Babbitt, who was kidnapped in some sort of way by Charlie, claiming that Dr. Bruner had suggested that he took his brother on a little trip. You knew that was just his usual bullshit talk, though, but tried to keep it down your throat, focusing more on helping Ray relax. He was mouthing stuff that made no sense, spelling out Vern and memorizing TV dialogues — he looked and sounded stressed and it made you want to hit Charlie’s breaks so abruptly that he’d crash his stupidly air floated head into the front shield of the car without the slightest hint of a warning.

Fucking California.

You found yourself in a crappy motel he’d rented in California for the night. Raymond was upset, so out of his comfort zone and familiar routine and places, sitting alone in his room as Charlie wandered back and forth all over the rooms while making calls back to Lee, informing him that he needed to put a pause in the business for a bit.

How insane was he exactly again?

“You’re a horrible fucking person, you know that?” you muttered lowly into his ear as you mustered a warm smile to his brother, opting to make whatever the hell of an experience that was at least enjoyable for him.

“You have no place in this.”

“No? Last time I checked you’ve been dragging me back and forth your stupid trips like I’m some sort of forgotten luggage.”

“That’s it — lights out, Ray Ray,” Charlie exclaimed in a forced enthusiastic voice as he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you outside, closing the door to Raymond’s room.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Get a fucking taxi and leave! I’m not going to give you explanation on what I do in my personal life,” he whispered-yelled at you, stalking across to his own room as you followed him, pissed.

“He’s your brother! You’ve kidnapped the poor guy, have been nothing but a dick to him and all that for what? Go apologize to him, tell him that first thing tomorrow morning you’re taking him back to the beneficiary,” you ordered him in the same tone he used at you.

Charlie shielded his eyes, running his palms down across his cheeks as he let out a long, dramatic sigh, burning holes through your head with his malicious glaring. “The fuck that’s happening! He’s a freaking pain in the ass, obviously I’m not going to tuck him in and kiss his forehead goodnight — I’m not his mother.”

“You’re his kid brother, Charlie. For crying out loud, he needs you, the least you can do for him is show some respect. It’s not his fault he doesn’t understand the world the same way you and I do,” your voice softened just a tad, trying to keep the noise down for Raymond not to hear. “He’s your big brother, could be someone to look up to—”

Charlie glared down at the floor, fighting of his temper. He shook his head — could be even be hearing to your nonsense? “What’s going on in my life is none of your fucking business and you get no chance to go around giving advice.”

“Fine, be the shitty piece of burning crap you are then, I couldn’t care less. But you owe me explanation on why you brought him here. What are we even doing in California?”

Charlie collapsed on the foot of his bed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to keep him. I’m pissed off at him…”

“What is that even supposed to mean? Pissed off at Raymond? What has he done to you?”

“No, at my dad. I need to get what’s mine, okay? He left Ray a shit ton of money and… You heard what Lenz said, okay? He doesn’t even understand the concept of money — my dad preferred to leave him three million dollars, up until every last dime, he fucking despised me.”

You blinked slowly, trying to absorb all of this.

“You’re telling me you’re treating Ray like he’s some sort of your property for money? Where the fuck do you get off, Charlie — you’re disgusting!”

You stalked past him in the bedroom, storming off as you slammed your hands on each side of your head in disbelief. You heard him get up from the bed, catching up with you as he snatched your arm and turned your body towards his own.

“You don’t know how it feels to be in my shoes right now, okay? Look, I need you… I need you here, this is all very confusing for me and—”

“For you?! What about Ray? Is anyone’s life even worth anything to you? No, wait, everything has to be about you only! What do you even need me for, huh? Babysitting, pussy, more money? I’m fucking leaving, I don’t want to be involved in your little freakshow,” you were screaming now, unable to hold yourself back as your finger stabbed toward the wall to punctuate your points.

“What’s my crime here?” Charlie continued, as if he was clueless to the entire situation. You wished you could just start punching sense into his head.

“Your crime is that you use people. You’re using Ray, you’re using me, you use everyone you son of a bitch. I hope your money goes into your fucking grave when you—” out of the blue, his mouth was covering yours with force, hands clutching into your shoulders as he tried to keep you steady against him, eyes squeezed shut.

You recoiled, unable to gauge any reaction out of your body, but let him continue bringing more heat into the moment, eventually getting you to start moving your lips against his, matching the urgency he initiated. When Charlie pulled away, your brain was still foggy, struggling to catch your breath, which seemed to be an issue for him too.

“You wouldn’t shut up,” he explained in a raspy voice. It’d just hit him what he’d done; kissing you, kissing the person that he swore he hated. It was true, though, he’d only done it to get you to stop talking, your angry statements about his screwed up plans causing him to lose control.

Your eyebrow raised upwards in slight confusion and effort of comprehending that Charlie’s lips had been on yours just a moment ago and you’d never felt so good, so complete before in your life. You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pinned him against the wall behind him, hearing him let out a chocked gasp, which for some reason sent a tingling sensation through your lower body. The second kiss was firmer, more passionate, because this time, you both knew exactly what was happening, it was consensual and Charlie’s crotch was pressing so beautifully against your thighs that you felt as if you were high. His hands were going through your hair, messing it up completely as he explored the rest of your face too, fingers gently cupping your cheeks for a brief second, before they dipped into the curves of your waist.

You arched against his touch, biting down on your lip as his mouth now moved below, leaving a trail of rushed wet kisses through your jawline. You felt him smirk against your neck as he softly dragged his teeth against your soft spot, licking and sucking, applying just the right amount of pressure to hear your muffled noises of pleasure.

“Ray—Raymond is in the next room,” you breathed, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your lips parted in a silent moan when you felt his index finger graze your underboob through the material of your thin blouse.

“He doesn’t understand this, he’ll probably think we’re fighting,” Charlie replied to you as he surfaced from the side of your collarbone to pepper small, quick pecks on your lips.

“We are fighting.”

“Good, shut up and fight me more then.”

You melted against him as he guided you backwards into the bedroom, dipping your chin over the slope of his shoulder as he held your weight, stumbling as your back accidentally hit against the corner of the door, making you wince. You didn’t care, though, pushing the door shut as Charlie pressed you against it with a loud thud. You lazily wrapped your legs around his lower waist, but his grip on your ass was strong enough to support you.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, absentmindedly tugging at it and eliciting a somewhat loud moan from him that made your entire system shudder, embarrassed at how wet you were growing just by making out. “Fuck, Charlie — bed now.”

He obliged, laying you on the bed as he pulled his already half unbuttoned shirt off, fighting back a cocky smile when he noticed you impatiently unclasp your bra under your blouse. He towered over you, falling gently on top your shoulder as he held onto your hips, placing soft kisses on your flesh. He had full consciousness of the effect he was having on you, finding it incredibly hot.

“God, you’re so…” he trailed off, hoping you hadn’t heard him. Truth was, Charlie had always been captivated by your beauty, convinced himself that there wasn’t another person in the planet that was half as gorgeous as you were.

He placed a tender kiss on your lips and helped you take your blouse off, giving you a moment to breathe before getting lost into the V-line between your breasts. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped from your mouth when the tip of his tongue made contact with your cold skin, his hums and groans vibrating through it.

The man who you’d been at odds with was tracing his digits dangerously close to the hem of your underwear and it all felt like the glimpse of embarrassment from having wet fever dream that pleased you more than any other human touch.

“I still think you’re the worst person I’ve met, by the way,” you muttered through tiny sighs, eyes closed as your fingers twisted around the bed sheets, hips suddenly jerking as you finally felt his hand hover over your scorching core through your trousers. “Stop fucking teasing me.”

“I think it’s rich that you’re giving me orders when I can just completely stop touching you and go to sleep while you’re whining like a mess,” Charlie replied, distancing himself from you in demonstration, walking right across the other side of the room to pick up his discarded shirt.

You were going to skin the bastard alive.

“Fuck you, Charlie, you’re a fucking brute, you know that?” you yelled in frustration, getting up from the bed and sprinting over to him, turning him around and crashing your lips against his, nails now digging painfully into the curves of his ripped back. Stealing each other’s air, you fell back into the bed again, pulling his trousers down and almost cumming when you caught a glimpse of his cock twitching against the fabric of his gray boxers, sort of visible due to the front patch that had gotten all wet and sticky from his precum.

You pulled at his hair, breaking the kiss to smile a little when you noticed that he was equally lost in the moment, biting on his bottom lip lustfully, looking at you through half-lidded eyes and beautiful blown pupils. You could feel the thud of your combined heartbeats, while fumbling to take off more clothing pieces, needing to feel every inch of his skin pressed up against yours, giving you goosebumps. You’d never felt that way.

“Fuck, that hurts,” he winced as your nails dug so deep into his back’s muscles that they ended up leaving wound marks, fresh and sort of pinkish.

“Touch me or it’ll get worse,” you threatened, knowing that as he’d said earlier, you weren’t really in a place to be colourful with him. His tongue scraped the roof of your mouth as he ran a finger down your center, testing the waters over your underwear and smirking when he felt the heat of your soaked panties radiate against his digit. You were so ready for him and he hadn’t even began doing anything to you — his erection growing painful at the observation.

“You’re so hot for me, I haven’t even touched you yet, gosh,” he whispered through a strangled moan, mind hazy as he tossed your panties aside and finally slipped a finger inside of you. Your hips jerked in surprise, rocking against his hand, craving the friction, the urge to fill you up more.

You moaned embarrassingly loud when the tip moved in a hither motion, almost losing your shit. He didn’t take too long to add another finger, which only made it better for you as you took a quick glance at him through your lashes, butterflies gushing inside your stomach at the sight of him, all worked up, lips parted as small groans came out of them, eyes closed as he fought off the need to wrap a hand around his dick as well, get off to touching you.

“Charlie,” you cried out his name, hips rolling forward as his touch made contact with your bundle of nerves. His long fingers were hitting all the right spots inside of you and the combination of the still very burning anger for him and the little wet noises along with his grunts had sent you over the edge a lot faster than you’d expected.

The moment Charlie felt your walls clench around his fingers, he pulled them off, wiping them off on the fabric of his boxers as he muffled your frustrated whimper with a kiss, permitting his hand to touch himself over his boxers as you ground against his thigh, pulling him down on top of you. Off, you mouthed, looking at his underwear. The bastard was driving you insane, so you yanked them off when you noticed he had no intention to giving in to your requests, sliding them down his ankles. Your jaw almost dropped at the gates of hell when you saw him, needing a moment to take it all in. He was so pretty, so achingly ready to go inside you, the image alone was enough to make you cum, your previous upcoming orgasm still hanging around the air.

“What did I tell you earlier? We’re doing this my way or we’re not doing anything at all.”

“Fuck, please, just fuck me, Charlie, I can’t wait any longer,” you found yourself pleading, forgetting that just ten minutes ago you’d been on the verge of cracking his skull open.

His eyes scanned your naked body for a second and you scoffed, tilting your head in confusion.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he admitted lowly, face growing hot as if he wasn’t just about to raw your bones. He crawled closer to you, giving you a kiss before parting your thighs, muscles clenching as his tip teasingly grazed your entrance. He wanted to make you feel so good, have you remembering that moment all the nights you’d be alone at your house, be the man you’d compare all the other men to in bed.

Except Charlie didn’t want you to have any other men after that night. Hoped he’d be good enough to make you want more of him, perhaps stay the nights over, ask to sleep next to him after, if he was lucky and satisfying enough.

“Sure you want to do this?” he asked you before he could change everything between the two of you, already knowing what your reply would be.

“Yes, god, yes, be fucking done with it already,” you dragged out, dramatically impatient. Your head was thrown back the moment he slid fully into you, staying still for a bit in order for you to adjust. Both of you inhaled a sharp breath, eyes shutting closed as he lost his balance a little, the dizzying feel of finally getting to be embraced by the warmth of your walls causing his heart to beat faster than a sledgehammer against his chest.

“You feel so good,” he hoarsed, forehead connecting with yours as he absentmindedly leaned down to kiss your nose. When he moved, slowly thrusting forward, you swore you wouldn’t be able to last enough. His breath was hot against the cell of your ear, allowing you to hear every groan, every noise he made and it turned you on so much that it practically ached.

“Faster,” you ordered, rolling your hips as he began having a steady pace, sloppy, wet sounds echoing in the room as Charlie fucked you rougher and rougher, skin slapping. The bed was squeaking now, your one hand grasping for dear life onto the sheets as the other wrapped tightly around his waist, fingers dipped into the curve of his lower abdomen. You focused on his face again, your heartbeat racing as you noticed his front teeth poking out of his parted lips, finding it both adorable and incredibly sexy.

He’d stopped moaning, not wanting you to know how desperately he needed you, his hands firmly placed on your hips as he tortured himself silently. “You like that? Like how we’re fighting?”

“Shut up,” you cried out. The angle he was hitting inside of you was killing you, you wanted him deeper, impossibly much, needed him to split you in half. “You’re the fucking worst.”

Electricity jolted through your veins as he picked up pace, practically slamming into you now, the moans he’d tried to hold back in his throat coming out in a struggle. “‘M not going to last long,” he warned you, capturing your lips in a deep kiss, hands cupping your cheeks with force.

“Cum inside of me.”

You really had no idea what you were doing to him, had you? Who — Charlie Babbitt — feeling his cock twist against your walls just by hearing you say you wanted him to cum in you. You had him in a chokehold, it was kind of ridiculous.

“Fuck, I—” he never got to finish what he was going to say in the first place, because you were trembling under his touch, overwhelmed by the speed and the fact that your worst fucking enemy was fucking you like you’d never been fucked before and it was all enough to send you over the edge for the second time that night, except now Charlie didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. You propped your chin upwards and caught his mouth in yours as you came, feeling him follow shortly after you, cum shooting inside of you in warm spurts as he fucked you through your orgasms, groaning loudly, body jerking.

Once both of you had reached your highs, he collapsed on top of your body, head buried into your shoulder as the two of you tried to catch your breaths, legs tensing. It eventually dawned on you that you just had sex with Charlie Babbitt.

“That was the hottest fucking sex I’ve ever had,” you confessed as he rolled off of you, laying next to your side as he chest rose in and out.

“Yeah,” he breathed, unable of saying much.

“I hate you.”

“You’ve got a really nice way of showing it.”

You kneed his thigh and he winced, still very fragile from the intensity of his orgasm. His hair was all sticky and sweaty, clung into his forehead, face flushed and red. You could orgasm all over again just by looking at him. “I believe we’ve traumatised your brother for life.”

“Worth it.”

“You’re taking him back tomorrow.”

“No, I’ve already told you—” you cut him off by kissing him, the tip of your tongue lingering against his bottom lip as you pulled him deeper into your mouth, hand tangling into his hair.

“You’re not the only one who gets to shut up others by kissing them. And if you ever want this to happen again, you’re going to do things my way from now on.”

And Charlie was just fine with that.

FIN.

tags: again, i wrote this for @honeymvnt so i hope you’ll enjoy reading this ml !! 🎀🫵🏼

[jkasperj]

You complete me

Writer’s note: I recently watched Jerry Maguire and I honestly fell in love with the movie and with Jerry ;) anyway, I saw that there were no stories about Jerry Maguire so here’s my attempt. I didn’t change much (if not anything) from the movie, but I promise to do something better the next time.

Warnings ⚠️: none

Jerry Maguire x reader!

Fluff fluff fluff!!!

Enjoy what you read!

You found yourself in a reunion with some friends of your sister. They we having the most boring conversation about how all men suck and they always mess up.

You couldn’t be more bored, but just when you were about to go lock yourself in your bedroom, the door of your house opens and you see your husband Jerry come in with a desperate expression.

You had married Jerry because you thought you’d be happy, you thought you’d make him happy, but after two months, you realized that he didn’t look too happy.

He would come home as late as he could, seemingly trying to avoid you. Maybe he wasn’t so happy after all, maybe you had taken advantage of him and that was why you decided to let him go.

You definitely didn’t expect to see him here tonight at your house with a worried expression.

“Hello? Hello” you heard Jerry say as he entered the house “I’m looking for my wife” he said looking for you in the small crowd of women your sister had invited.

When he finally spotted you, he expected you to ask him to go to a more private place to talk, but when he didn’t see you react, he just said “Okay...okay...okay. If this is where it has to happen, then this is where it has to happen”

He looked you in the eyes and pointed you with his index finger and said firmly “I'm not letting you get rid of me. How about that?”

Your sister and all of her friends looked at him expecting to hear a pathetic speech of a pathetic man just like all their ex husbands.

“This used to be my specialty. You know, I was good in a living room. They'd send me in there, and I'd do it alone. And now I just...” he was getting really nervous. He could feel his hands sweating as you stared as him not knowing what to do.

He looked at you for a quick moment and then just looked down to the floor whispering a silent ‘i don’t know’, indeed not knowing what to say.

Your sister looked disappointed at Jerry and almost embarrassed that her friends were witnessing this.

“But tonight, our little project, our company had a very big night - a very, very big night” he said trying to show happiness and you shyly smiled feeling proud of your accomplishment.

“But it wasn't complete” you looked up wanting to hear what he was going to say next.

“It wasn't nearly close to being in the same vicinity as complete, because I couldn't share it with you”. You raised your eyebrows surprised because you didn’t expect to hear that at all.

“I couldn't hear your voice or laugh about it with you”. At this point all of your sister’s friends were admiring the scene starting to change their minds about your husband; he didn’t sound too pathetic by now

He looked at you with teary eyes and said so silently, almost in a whisper “I miss my - I miss my wife”.

You still looked at him and you couldn’t help it. You just wanted to throw yourself into his arms and hold him as tight as you could, but you let him continue with his speech.

The room was filled with silence and it was starting to feel uncomfortable, until thankfully he started talking again.

“We live in a cynical world, a cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors” he looked you deep in the eyes and readjusted his posture and just said “I love you”

“You. Complete. Me”

You already had tears in your eyes. You couldn’t help it, he had won you over again.

“And I just had -“ “Shut up. Just shut up” you interrupted him, having already decided to stay with him forever.

“You had me at hello” you smiled

“You had me at hello”

Jerry just smiled relieved and walked a little too fast to reach you. He rapidly wrapped his strong arms around you and you placed yours around his neck. He held you in the sweetest of ways while stroking your hair gently.

You completed him

And he completed you.

THE END!

This was also made for my wonderful reader @lovemav555 who’s also in love with this man.

Hope you enjoyed!