#pete maverick imagine

[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

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Three Generations - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Rooster is a Dad; Female Reader with No Name or Physical Description, No Y/N, Third Person POV; OC Bradshaw Kid without Physical Description (minus a reference to his smile being similar to Rooster's)

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: Rooster is married. Maverick found out when the paperwork got filed with the Navy, but he doesn’t have a chance to ask Rooster about it until after the mission

Master List

Sequel: A Day with Duckie

Maverick remembered the text that he received from Ice about four years prior to the mission.

The kid’s married.

Three little words that felt like bullets straight to Maverick’s heart. Bradley was married. Married. Maverick shouldn’t have been surprised, really. Bradley was more than old enough for marriage. Especially for a naval officer. But it still hurt, it still stung that he wasn’t there to see it.

Ice gave him Rooster’s wife’s name but he couldn’t find many photos of the two of them together. Rooster’s wife’s profiles were all set to private, but Maverick did find some photos posted by one of the bridesmaids. He printed them out and hung them up in his hangar, next to his old photos of Rooster. Even if he cried like a baby while he did it.

It wasn’t until after the mission, when they were sitting alone in their hospital room together, that Maverick had a chance to ask Rooster about his wife.

“You got married?” Maverick asked Rooster quietly.

Maverick gestured to his own left ring finger, which made Rooster fiddle with his gold band. Staring down at his wedding ring for a moment, Rooster tried to figure out how to respond properly to Maverick’s question. Nodding slowly, Rooster turned back to Maverick.

“Yeah, I did,” Rooster answered quietly.

“Congratulations,” Maverick replied softly.

“Thank you,” Rooster returned, fiddling with his ring again.

“How did you meet?”

“She was in the Navy. She worked in intelligence, though. We met through mutual friends and I asked her out. We went on a date to a karaoke bar and never looked back,” Rooster explained, smiling at the memories. “I asked her to marry me about two years after that.”

“And you’re happy?”

“Extremely,” Rooster replied without missing a beat. “Her and Kai, they’re my whole life.”

“Kai?” Maverick asked curiously.

Rooster, seemingly realizing his slip, shrunk a bit into himself. He looked nervous. Incredibly nervous. Fiddling with his wedding band again, Rooster slowly turned back to Maverick.

“Kai is my son.”

“You’re a dad?” Maverick asked, unable to stop the emotion from dripping into his tone.

Not only had Maverick missed Rooster’s wedding, but he also missed the birth of Rooster’s child, and all of the little milestones along the way. And that ache in his chest quietly intensified, though Maverick tried to not let it show.

“Yeah, I am.”

Rooster reached for his phone, pulled up a photo, and passed his phone over to Maverick. He grabbed Rooster’s phone and stared down at the photo. And Maverick would have been lying if he said that he didn’t get a little choked up at the sight of it.

Rooster and a woman that Maverick knew was Rooster’s wife were standing together with a little baby boy sandwiched between them. A little boy that had his father’s smile—albeit one with a few missing teeth—and a matching Hawaiian shirt. Rooster’s wife smiled widely at the camera with her cheek smushed against the top of her son’s head.

And Rooster looked happier in that photo than Maverick had seen him since before Carole passed, even though Rooster wasn’t looking in the direction of the camera. No, Rooster was far too busy smiling at his little family.

“Are they coming to see you?” Maverick asked, handing the phone back to Rooster.

“Yeah, uh, their flight lands tomorrow morning. Phoenix said that she would pick them up from the airport and bring them here,” Rooster explained, placing his phone aside. Rooster paused before turning back to Maverick. “And . . . can you . . . can you not mention the part about me defying a direct order and everything that happened afterwards?”

“I won’t,” Maverick promised, earning a thankful nod from Rooster. “But, at some point, Brad, I think that you should be honest with her about it. As much as you can, given the sensitive information, anyways. Not that I’m in any position to give anyone marriage advice but . . . you should be honest with your wife.”

“I will,” Rooster returned quietly. “It’s just that she gets really stressed when I’m in the hospital. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“Are you scared about her reaction?”

“A little bit,” Rooster admitted honestly.

Maverick chuckled, reminiscing about how Goose always looked when he was worried about telling Carole about whatever shenanigans they got into back in the day.

“I’m sure that you’ll be fine.”

~~~~~

Maverick and Rooster were discharged from the hospital the next day.

Phoenix, along with Rooster’s wife and Kai, were supposed to pick them up. Rooster spotted Phoenix’s car and walked after it. The passenger door flew open and Rooster’s wife. She walked around the car to see that Phoenix was helping Kai out of the back seat.

Kai slid out of Phoenix’s car and immediately perked up when he spotted his dad quickly making his way over. But knowing her son, Rooster’s wife snatched him by the back of his shirt before he could run out into the parking lot.

“You have to hold Mommy’s hand when you’re in the parking lot,” she reminded her son.

She looked up and down the road before leading Kai across it. But once Kai safely stepped up onto the sidewalk, she released his hand and let Kai run to Rooster.

“Daddy!” Kai yelled happily, running into Rooster’s waiting arms.

Bradley bent down and scooped Kai up. Holding Kai to his chest, Rooster pressed a kiss to Kai’s hair as he rocked his son back and forth in his arms. Almost like Rooster was trying to soothe himself with his son’s presence.

“I missed you so much, Kai.”

Rooster pressed another kiss to Kai’s head before turning to his wife. She looked like she was trying to hold it together and just barely managing it. But when she caught Rooster’s gaze, she let some more emotion show. Wordlessly, Rooster held out an arm to her and she immediately ran into his embrace, officially reuniting the family of three.

“I’m alright,” Rooster assured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m okay.”

As Rooster reassured his wife and son that he was fine, Maverick walked around them to stand beside Phoenix. After his wife and Kai were soothed, Rooster turned to introduce them to Maverick.

“Guys, this is Maverick. Mav, this is my wife,” Rooster stated, wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist.

“The man who pulled your papers?” Rooster’s wife asked sharply. Maverick winced at her tone.

“We got past that,” Rooster assured his wife, which caused her to immediately relax.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you then,” she replied with a much warmer tone. Rooster’s wife walked over to give Maverick a proper hug that Maverick was happy to return. “And to put a face to the name after all the stories.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” Maverick replied, releasing Rooster’s wife.

“And this is my son, Kai,” Rooster added, bouncing his son lightly on his arm. Smiling at his son with complete and utter adoration, Rooster nudged him in the side. “Kai, this is Maverick.”

“Hi,” Maverick greeted Kai softly.

“Hi,” Kai returned shyly, resting his head on Rooster’s shoulder.

“Mav’s a pilot like me,” Rooster explained to his son, causing Kai to pick his head up again. “And he used to fly around with your Grandpa Goose.”

“Really?” Kai asked his dad, earning a nod from Rooster.

Kai stared over at Maverick with newfound curiosity and Maverick tried to not choke up at the clear similarities between Kai and Rooster. Kai wasn’t so much his dad’s twin, but he had that same expression and look in his eye that Maverick saw all the time on a younger Bradley. Offering a small encouraging smile to Kai, Maverick decided to approach.

“Yeah, your Grandpa Goose used to sit in my back seat,” Maverick replied, nodding along. “And he was the best at what he did.” Trying to not burst out into tears at the fact that he was talking about Goose while Baby Goose was holding Grandbaby Goose, Maverick managed a small smile. “Your grandpa’s callsign was Goose. Your dad’s is Rooster. What bird do you want as your callsign, Kai?”

“Mommy calls me ‘Duckie’,” Kai informed Maverick, ending his sentence with a giggle.

“Yes, because he’s impossible to pull out of the water once he’s in,” Rooster explained, shaking his head playfully at his son. “And he pretends that he can’t hear us.”

“No,” Kai giggled, clearly lying.

“He’s also a great liar,” Rooster quipped, tickling Kai’s stomach.

Kai squealed and pushed his dad’s hand away, but he couldn’t stop giggling. And Maverick tried to not burst out into tears again. Baby Goose had a baby. The little baby that he used to babysit and take for extra ice cream had a little baby of his own now.

God, Maverick was getting old.

~~~~~

After spending the day with the rest of the Dagger Squad, Maverick and the Bradshaw family of three retired to Maverick’s quaint residence in town. Rooster grew up in the house after Carole’s death and his old bedroom was perfectly preserved from that time.

It was only about a half an hour before Kai’s bedtime when Rooster approached Maverick in the kitchen.

“Can you watch Kai for a second?”

“Yeah, of course,” Maverick agreed, nodding along immediately. “But why? Where are you going?”

“I just thought that I should tell her,” Rooster explained, keeping his voice low. “There were too many close calls as it was with the rest of the Dagger Squad, so I need to tell her. About the mission and . . . my little stunt.”

“The couch is very comfortable,” Maverick joked, earning a tired sigh from Rooster. “You’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Rooster replied, straightening up.

Rooster thanked Maverick before the two rejoined Kai and Rooster’s wife out in the living room. Rooster managed to find an old Connect 4 game in the cabinet and his wife tried to teach Kai how to play. They were sitting around the coffee table with Kai studying the layout closely.

“Can I play with you, Kai?” Maverick asked, moving to sit down beside Kai.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, not taking his eye off of the board.

Maverick saw Rooster lean down to whisper something in his wife’s ear before she nodded. Turning to Kai, Rooster’s wife leaned over and tapped him on the shoulder, causing Kai to look up.

“Behave for Maverick, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

Rooster and his wife got up and headed out of the room to talk. Kai turned to Maverick once his parents were out of sight.

“Why did they leave?”

“They just needed to talk about some things. Adult things. Nothing fun,” Maverick stated, causing Kai to nod with a slight pout. Maverick moved to take the seat that Rooster’s wife was sitting in and picked up a yellow piece. “Did you take a plane to get over here, Kai?”

“Yeah,” Kai stated, smiling up at Maverick.

“Do you like flying?”

“Yeah.”

“Has your dad ever taken you flying before?” Kai shook his head dramatically, causing Maverick to nod along. “You just fly with your mom then?”

“Yeah. Daddy gets scared,” Kai informed Maverick, leaning on the coffee table.

“Well, it’s a little scary when you’re a pilot and someone else is flying the plane,” Maverick replied, very well acquainted with the control freak tendencies that popped up when a naval aviator flew commercial. “And your daddy just wants to make sure that you and everyone else is safe.”

“Mommy tells him to relax,” Kai replied, emphasizing the word with a wave of his hand.

Kai must have seen his mom do that exact routine at least a thousand times because he seemed to know the part by heart. He had the expression, the wave of his hand, and the tone down perfectly. Maverick couldn’t help but laugh.

“Does he listen to her?” Maverick quipped, failing at hiding his amusement.

“Sometimes,” Kai answered with a giggle.

“Like you?”

“Yeah.”

Maverick was about to ask Kai another question when Rooster’s wife’s voice echoed around the house. The door to Rooster’s old bedroom did little to muffle the shock and sheer incredulousness of Rooster’s wife’s question.

“You did what!?”

“Have you ever seen the moon, Kai?” Maverick asked the toddler, quickly getting up to his feet.

“Yeah,” Kai replied as Maverick scooped him up into his arms.

“Well, looking again wouldn’t hurt,” Maverick reasoned, setting Kai on his hip. “And maybe we’ll even see a few stars too.”

“Oh-kay,” Kai agreed with a sigh, laying his head on Maverick’s shoulder.

“And where was your brain during all of this!?” Rooster’s wife snapped loudly.

“Yeah, let’s go look at the stars, Kai,” Maverick stated quickly, hurrying out the back door.

“Was that Mommy?” Kai asked, staring back at the house.

“No, I don’t think it was her.”

Sequel: A Day with Duckie

[roosterbruiser]

[frost-queen]

It comes with perks (Reader x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: When you need someone to be your fake boyfriend to get you out of a situation with your ex, Hangman is the closest guy you find. What needed to be a one time thing, turned out into a long term act of fake dating. Certainly now that your dad Iceman is involved in as well. Slowly the lines of fake dating fade as Hangman becomes obessed with you, a ray of sunshine. When your ex tries to get back in your life, Jake becomes protective, finally ending those unclear lines of fake dating.

Phoenix and you entered Penny’s bar when your phone suddenly rang. Taking it out, the nametag on it made your eyes widen. You touched Phoenix on her shoulder, letting her know you needed a moment. She simply smiled, heading further into the bar to the booth were Bob, Coyote and Fanboy already were. The phone kept buzzing as you weren’t sure what to do. Panicking a bit as to say. You knew not picking up, would do nothing as he would just keep calling you.

Answering was even terrible, as you knew he’d say anything to get you to yield. Like a collective caller, kept he calling you. Looking around frantically, you spotted the first person at Penny’s bar. You rushed over to the bar, pulling Hangman back by his shoulder. – “Emergency, you’re my boyfriend.” – you breathed out, holding the phone out to him. Hangman smiled cocky. – “Well, well. If you were desperate for a kiss, you’d just had to ask Y/n.” – Hangman replied all smug to your annoyance.

“No. No! You’re not actually my boyfriend.” – you informed him hastily. Hangman furrowed his brows, frowning. – “Make up your mind girl.” – he let out confused to what was happening. You moved your phone higher up for him to notice. – “I need you to be my boyfriend and make him stop calling me!” – you called out almost frantically at how slow he was catching up.

“Right.” – He simply said, setting a beer down and taking your phone in his hand. He answered the phone, giving you a cheeky eyebrow wiggle. Hangman didn’t even listen to what the other person was saying on the phone. – “Listen bud, stop calling my girlfriend.” – he spoke through. He heard an immediate response. – “Uhm her boyfriend.” – Hangman answered, showing you a goofy look at how obvious it was who he was talking to.

The man kept blabbing in his ear as Hangman had little interest in keeping him on the phone. – “Stop calling us, bye.” – he spoke in such a manufactured voice, he could work in sales and be dealing with a terrible customer but still upholding his work voice. Hangman hung up, giving you the phone back. – “Thank you!” – you let out relieved, bending a bit through your knees out of gratitude. – “So what do I get in return?” – Hangman asked.

“This beer?” – you suggested, placing your hand on the counter by it. Hangman tsked his tongue. – “Already paid for it sunshine.” – he said with a chuckle. – “Fine.” – you breathed out. – “I’ll clean your locker.” – you took out another suggestion as Hangman thought. – “How about wash my clothes?” – he responded. – “Deal.” – you agreed it was just that. Hangman shook hands with you to seal the deal.

He picked up his beer, throwing his arm over your shoulder. – “Who was the dude anyways?” – he asked, leading you to the others. – “My ex.” – you sighed out. Hangman looked half in shock at you. – “I didn’t know you dated someone.” – he called out as you had to shush his loud voice. – “It was like 6 months ago.” – you informed him.

“And he’s still calling you?” – Hangman blurted out as you hummed with a nod as response. – “I can’t shake him off.” – you sighed out nearing the booth with your friends. – “Well good thing your boyfriend saved the day.” – Hangman winked with a ridiculous smile. – “Not my boyfriend.” – you reminded him before sitting down.

Back in the locker room, you were washing Hangman’s attire. Washing them by hand as he called them delicate and needed to be handled with care. – “Uhm what are you doing?” – Phoenix asked seeing you in the locker room as she had walked by. – “Are those Hangman’s clothing?” – she pointed out when you had pulled it up to see if it was clean enough, revealing his nametag. – “Phoenix!” – you called out startled, splashing some water as your arms lowered immediately. – “Why are you washing his clothes?” – she wanted to know. – “I owe it to him.” – you responded, scrubbing his pilot gear.

“You dared to bet with Hangman. Bold.” – she answered impressed. – “It’s not that.” – you told her with a soft sigh. – “He did something for me, so I have to return the favour.” – you explained. – “Right.” – Phoenix widened her eyes briefly in delight. – “If your dad could see you know.” – she chuckled a bit. – “He’d flip that you fell so low.” You grunted soft. – “Good thing my dad.” – you emphasized. – “Can’t see me.” – you replied bitsy. – “Ohh cold touch.” – Phoenix teased touching her own shoulder. You scooped up some water, splashing it at her to wipe that smile off her face.

Phoenix screamed, dodging away when the water came her way. Half laughing, you teasing her with another scoop as she already darted away. When you were finished up with Hangman’s uniforms, you hung them neatly to dry. You came out of the lockers, making your way out of the hangar when you got pulled aside by Rooster. He pushed you firm up against the wall. – “Are you dating Hangman?” – called out at the brink of losing his mind. – “What?” – you responded confused.

“Are you dating him?” – Rooster wanted to know with a stern look. – “What, no, no…” – you replied waving your hands across. Rooster exhaled deep moving his fingers through his hair. – “Who told you this?” – you asked curious. – “Hangman has been bragging to everyone he’s dating you.” – Rooster let you know. Your eyes widened with shock.

You pushed Rooster a bit back, to make some room for you to leave. You needed to find Hangman and you needed to find him now. Jogging out of the hangar into the open. You saw a group of people near the F16’s going over to them. The closer you got, the clearer you saw Hangman amongst them.

“Hangman!” – you shouted drawing his attention. – “Looks like my girlfriend needs me.” – he said to Fanboy and Coyote all smug. Coyote rolled with his eyes as Fanboy shook his head. Hangman turned round to you, welcoming you with a warm smile. – “Yes my love.” – he said as you grabbed him firmly by the arm, dragging him away from the others. – “So eager.” – Hangman whispered to his friends with a chuckle. You came to a stop, letting harshly go of him.

“What are you doing?” – you called out giving him a little shove. – “Au.” – Jake mouthed pretending to be hurt from your shove. – “Jake!” – you called out wanting an answer out of him. – “What?” – he replied loud, making himself taller. – “Why are you telling everyone we are dating?” – you freaked out. Jake scoffed loud, turning his head away. – “Are we not?” – he answered cocky, wanting to slip his arm over your shoulder. It made you puff annoyed, crossing your arms.

“Oh come on Y/n, don’t be such a baby about it.” – Jake said taking you by the elbow, wanting you to uncross your arms. – “It’s a joke, sunshine.” – he kept tugging at your arm, trying to be smooth and cool at the same time. – “Sunshine!” – you suddenly heard loud, making you straighten your back. Hangman’s back straightened as well. Cyclone appeared coming to you. – “Iceman wants to speak to you.” – he said firmly, making your shoulders slouch. Jake was snickering quietly at you with a little point. – “He asked for both of you!” – Cyclone made clear, making Jake’s smile drop.

You tugged on his elbow, pulling him with you. Following Cyclone inside and up the stairs to Iceman’s desk. Cyclone knocked on the door, before popping his head inside. – “They are present.” – he said to Iceman. Cyclone stepped aside, expression flat as he allowed you to walk in. – “Tell me, am I hanging?” – Jake whispered to Cyclone wanting to know his outcome. Cyclone ignored him, giving him an extra shove into the room. – “Dad!” – you said with mixed expectations, opening your arms to a hug.

Iceman got up from behind his desk, coming to hug you. – “How is my little girl?” – he asked. – “Flying and thriving.” – you told him, making him form a smile on his lips. His gaze then shifted to Jake, who swallowed nervously. Iceman got all serious. He went to sit again, gesturing for you to sit as well. Jake and you sat down, unsure what to expect. – “So you are the one dating my daughter.” – Iceman spoke. – “Dad no…” – you blurted out, waving your hands across.

Iceman observed Hangman closely as it made him move uncomfortable in the chair. – “How’s his flying?” – he asked. – “Superb… sir.” – Jake replied loudly, humbling himself immediately. Iceman glanced your way. You could only smile sheepishly at him. – “I’m a bit saddened you didn’t tell me Y/n.” – Iceman began. – “But he looks decent enough. As long as he doesn’t hurt you… or else…” – Iceman gave Hangman his death stare.

Jake swallowed again. – “Dad we’re not…” – you began wanting to explain as Jake grabbed your hand out of the blue. – “No, no sunshine, it’s okay. He knows now.” – Jake spoke upholding the image of dating. You stared confused at him, why he would even want to go on with his stupid joke. – “Jake, this is my dad.” – you said between clenched teeth to him. Making it clear that he didn’t need to mess around. – “I’m so happy for you Y/n.” – Iceman said cheery.

“The man’s happy Y/n, let him be.” – Jake said to guilt trip you. You sighed soft letting yourself fall back in the chair. Jake got up. – “Well it was nice of you to call us in, sir.” – Jake said, nudging you to get up as well. Your dad chuckled happily at his manners as you could only roll your eyes. Jake extended his hand out to Iceman. Iceman took it to shake. – “I’m not one for favours, but if you ever need one for my daughter.” – he whispered to Jake with a wink.

Jake breathed out a laugh of surprise, glancing your way. Just to rub his it more in your face. – “Now we must really go.” – Hangman spoke tapping your elbow, to get you to follow. – “Give her a kiss.” – Iceman replied. Jake’s expression dropped. – “S’cuse me?” – he blurted out. – “Give her a kiss.” – he repeated gesturing at you.

Jake looked sheepishly at you, chuckling nervously. – “Sir truly…” – Jake began wanting to talk his way out of it. – “I want to see just how much you care for my daughter.” – Iceman persisted. Hangman took your hand, pulling you closer to give a kiss on the cheek. – “Give her a real kiss!” – Iceman shouted out of good sports. Jake sighed loud with a soft drop of his gaze. You raised your eyebrow at him, curious to see what he would do. He took you by the elbow, pulling you even closer.

“Just a quick one.” – he whispered to you. – “One second.” – you responded. Hangman held his finger up to his lips, looking all smug. He lowered his finger, giving you a quick nod before he’d kiss you. Your lips touched for a split second, pulling away quick. Iceman shook his head with disappointment. – “We have to go dad!” – you called out, opening the door. Dragging Jake with you out of his office. Downstairs, you let go of Jake.

“Your joke just escalated Hangman. Now my dad knows!” – you called out panicking. – “Hey you asked me to be your boyfriend.” – Jake replied loud. – “For like a few seconds.” – you shouted back. – “You asked for this Y/n.” -  Jake answered loud taking off. – “Where are you going?” – you called out to him. Jake turned around, pulling his shoulders up. It made you groan loud.  

Phoenix and you were stretching before exercise. – “Boyfriend coming over.” – she pointed out, turning her torso, holding her arm by her elbow. You looked up seeing Hangman come over with the other boys. It made you look at her with a certain glance. Phoenix stopped, walking off when Hangman came near. She joined the others behind him. – “You know for a sunshine, you frown a lot.” – he pointed out, touching your forehead.

You slapped his hand away. He grabbed you by the shoulders, moving his head closer to you. – “Smile, your dad is going to watch.” – he whispered making you widen your eyes. Jake moved aside from you, throwing his arm over you as he led you to the others. Maverick, Cyclone and Iceman neared. You all followed Maverick to the beach for a match of rugby. A good team exercise Maverick would call it. Cyclone and Iceman sat down, watching the pathetic play of rugby.

Hangman and you were on opposite teams. Fanboy had the ball, throwing it at Coyote. Hangman jumped in front of him, catching the football before his eyes. He then ran with it to your side, throwing his hard on the ground. He called it out in victory, pointing towards Iceman. Iceman clapped for Hangman’s score. He then looked all smug at you. Phoenix nudged you as you rolled your eyes at him. Trying not to find it sweet. Rooster caught the ball wanting to throw it at you. You caught it, wanting to run when you got picked up from the ground. 

Hangman had picked you up, making you squeal loud out of surprise. Your feet hit the ground again, as he kept his arms around you. – “Try getting out of this now, sunshine.” – he breathed out. You wriggled in his grip for freedom. When you weren’t getting any, you tried running. Hangman laughed loud, squeezing his arms tighter around you. – “Where are you going sunshine?” – he laughed out. You tried so hard not to laugh as well, not to enjoy it too, but you failed.

You stopped trying to run, laughing loud. You tossed the football over to Bob. You showed him your empty hands, showing him his attempt to stop you failed. Hangman picked you up in response, making you squeal again. He then pressed a kiss on your cheek so quick, he barely caught himself doing it. You turned round in his embrace, staring a bit at him. Jake stared back at you.

Swallowing, he let go of you, scratching his neck sheepishly. You looked blissful away. The two of you hesitantly got back into the game, questioning whether you were actually starting to like each other or that it was the drive of fake dating for a while now.

After practise, you were all exhausted. Having been playing till the sun had set. Worn out, you all decided to grab a few drinks at Penny’s bar. You went up to her bar as Jake followed. Almost instinctively. You held four fingers up to Penny, ordering beer. Jake leaned with his elbows on the counter, throwing you a smug smile. Your phone vibrated in your pocket. Confused, you pulled it out holding it to the front. Jake’s eye fell on the caller, taking the phone from your hand before you could react.

He picked up, turning around to lean against the counter with his back. – “What do you want?” – he said bothered. Your ex didn’t even have to finish his sentence when Jake spoke again. – “Listen asshole, if you call her one more time. I’ll make sure you’ll never see daylight again. You won’t see me coming. I’ll fly above your house, aiming for your pathetic bedroom and you’ll be burned to crisps in a matter of seconds.” – Jake threatened making you stare in shock at him.

“She doesn’t want you cause I’m her boyfriend. She’s mine and let me tell you ass, I don’t like sharing.” – Jake said over the phone. – “This was your last call or you’re dead!” – he angrily hung up the phone. – “Thank… thank you…” – you said astonished by how hot that was. Jake tugged your phone in his pocket.

Penny arrived with the drinks as he took them, motioning with his head for you to follow. You slid into a booth with him as the others were waiting. Hangman threw an arm over your shoulder, pushing you closer to him. It made you feel like squealing. The lines of pretend and real blurring away. Jake caught you staring at him, melting as he saw you smile like the sun back at him. He moved his head closer to you, wanting to kiss you in that moment, but caught himself just in time.

He shifted his head to the side, kissing your cheek instead. It didn’t feel satisfying, but he wouldn’t dare himself to kiss you out of the blue with everyone around. Your friends were so used to the two of you dating, they hardly had any eye for it. Not clear it was all an act, started from a joke. After an hour or two, checked Jake his watch. – “I’m taking Y/n home.” – he said removing his arm from you. He got out of the booth, taking you with him.

You said goodbye to the others. Jake grabbed your hand, walking out of Penny’s bar with you. Outside he was still holding your hand as it made you snicker soft. – “No one’s watching Hangman.” – you told him. Hangman looked at you with eyes full of affection. – “I know.” – he responded, pausing you. – “Are we still faking it?” – he asked catching you by surprise. Unsure, you pulled your shoulders up. That seemed to answer Hangman enough as he cupped your cheeks, kissing your lips.

The kiss was long, anticipating the moment till he could finally kiss you. His tender kiss moved to longing and desperation as his hands grabbed you tightly. You kissed him back, fully surrendering under his spell. The lines of fake dating having been shattered long ago.

--------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[ddejavvu]

Touch starved pilots of your choice cuddling their s/o headcanons

characters written: pete 'maverick' mitchell, nick 'goose' bradshaw, tom 'iceman' kazansky, ron 'slider' kerner, leonard 'wolfman' wolfe, rick 'hollywood' neven, beau 'cyclone' simpson, bradley 'rooster' bradshaw, jake 'hangman' seresin, natasha 'phoenix' trace, robert 'bob' floyd, javy 'coyote' machado, mickey 'fanboy' garcia, reuben 'payback' fitch

sfw, but cut for length. enjoy!

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell:

depends on what age you're thinking!

if it's young!mav, he's probably just a liiiitle reluctant to let himself relax sometimes

he's sort of got his tough guy persona, and he's not used to dropping it, so when you get him alone he tries messing around at first

whether that's a few too many kisses, or a pinch to your side, he guards himself a bit before letting himself go

but when he does, oh, he's like a little kitten !

he lets you run your hands through his gelled hair (gross)

and it gets all misshapen and spiky

he probably just melts when you pet his hair like that, and he'll be snoozing on your chest in no time

now older!mav is definitely less of a tough nut to crack

he probably initiates the cuddling in the first place, he nudges you over to the bed and lays himself on top of you to crush you

you can push at his chest and splutter all you want, but he's made his choice on where he's going to lay, and it's on you

he likes holding you, but he wants to be face-to-face, so you can brush noses and bump foreheads

he probably tries sooo hard to stay awake so that he can soak in the time you're spending together but peepaw definitely crashes like 10 minutes in

Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw:

he also likes to be face to face!

buuut not for the same sweet reason as mav

he just wants to itch you with his mustache

he likes nipping at you too, he bites your nose to make you laugh

you won't be getting any sleep when you cuddle with goose, he just wants to talk and laugh and hold you the entire time

it's not a period of time to wind down, it's a big laugh-fest

and god FORBID you try to get up to pee

“Nick, I have to go.” / “Sorry, honey. I can’t let go. I think my hand’s stuck.” / “NICK!!”

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky

he’s another one who probably has just a bit of trouble letting his guard down

he’ll cuddle with you no doubt, but he’ll probably always keep you in his lap or have some sort of upper hand in the embrace

it takes a while before he’s ready to be held himself

when he does finally give in it's so soft and sweet :')

he's had a really hard day and he comes home with his eyes drooping

you've planned a movie night but he doesn't even look like he could sit through an episode of a tv show

so you lead him to bed instead, and tell him you're sleepy, cause he won't 'ruin' the night by admitting that he is

you ask to play with his hair and he lets you, but he's not sure why 'cause you just said you were tired??

you basically have to trick him into being held but once his head is on your chest and your hands are in his hair he's gone.

he ends up mumbling something all sleepy and groggy like 'mm, that's nice' and his eyes are half shut and he's so endearingly tired :')

he wants you to do it all the time now, I'd say it's about 50/50 whether you fall asleep holding him or he falls asleep holding you

Ron 'Slider' Kerner:

slider's a big boy!!!!!!!

he's big and tall and muscly, the perfect cuddle buddy

he's probably more inclined to hold than be held

but he likes it when you face him so you can wrap your arms around his back :')

he probably likes it when he's able to bury his face in your neck/shoulder/against the top of your head

like he always wants his face snuggled in somewhere warm and nice smelling

and it just so happens his chest is an excellent place to get lost yourself

so you most of the time just nuzzle right into each other and get to snoozin'

i think he'd talk real soft, too, he'd murmur against your ear while you're drifting off, probably boring you to sleep with technical details of his flights but just before you crash for the night he slips in a little 'i love you, honey' and <33333

Leonard 'Wolfman' Wolfe:

he's a loser for his partner it has to be said

almost as teasing as nick is but not quite

he'll let you fall asleep he just wants to talk to you AllTheTime because he LovesYouSoMuch

he's a chatterbox and you'll be lucky if you get to sleep at a decent hour

he really likes it when you lay your head on his chest

'cause he likes playing with your hair and your face :]

sometimes he'll just use you as a little stress toy and squeeze your cheeks and pinch your nose and poke at your forehead

always making silly little jokes and telling you all about his day

down to, like, every comment one of his friends made...

'and then slider said he was gonna kill him but hollywood ran, so then they were just chasing each other around and iceman said-' / 'babe.. can we sleep? please?' / 'oh! right, sorry baby.'

Rick 'Hollywood' Neven

listen there's a reason he and wolfman get along so well

they're BOTH teases!!!

cuddling with hollywood is not really relaxing, because he's always pinching your sides or putting his nasty cold feet all over you, or pretending to knock you out by fake-punching you a bunch

you're just laying there and he's 'punching' your stomach, making fake punch sounds with his mouth, and if you push him away he'll pretend you've absolutely knocked him out, tumbling down onto the mattress with this dramatic thump and closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out of his mouth like he's a dead cartoon character 😭

he's like a dog you have to get his energy out before trying to rest with him or he just Won't Rest

when you DO get him sleepy, though, he's kinda incoherent when he's tired, so you'll be cuddled up together, maybe you're scratching his back, maybe he's playing with your hair, and he's just sort of mumbling nonsense until he finally drifts off to sleep

Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson:

will not be held

sorry! not happening

he's just so big and beefy and authoritative that he doesn't much enjoy being coddled

he loves cuddling with you though, he gets very relaxed just laying with you

he's a casual toucher, i think, so you can rest your head on his shoulder at the airport, you can hold his hand at restaurants, whether that be over or under the table, he lets you hang all over him however you want

he's not super into in-your-face PDA, though, so you'll have to be polite and considerate about it

actually in bed though, under the blankets at night?

he's so much more cuddly than you'd expect

he wraps his big strong arms around you and tugs you close and lets you melt all over him <33

your favorite place to lay your head is probably his chest 'cause it's so broad and firm and nice <3

he's a good back rubber so cuddles are always soft and cozy and sleepy

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw:

lord he's a cuddler

he's just a touchy guy, because he's probably gone without it for a significant amount of time so now that he's got you he's gonna enjoy it

big big big on pda, doesn't really care who sees

so that means cuddling in public, too

perfectly content to sit by the beach with you in his lap all cuddled back into his chest he doesn't care if anyone teases him

but back in bed he's a sucker for head scratches

if you have long-ish nails, enough to scratch at his scalp, he'll literally melt over you like an ice cream cone

his limbs go all gooey and he flops his head down on your chest, groaning and grunting while you scratch through his hair

he really enjoys sleeping on top of you, whether that be fully chest-to-chest 'you're suffocating me' cuddling or just an arm thrown over your stomach while he lays on his own

he likes being held, too, but probably prefers to hold unless he's having a hard day

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin:

big boy!! surprisingly fond of being held for everything we know about him

that cocky demeanor does not last under the sheets

he adores holding you, of course, he'll wrap his big arms around you and cradle your head to his chest

he probably plays with your hair, looooves it when you tangle your legs up with his own

he prefers if you talk to him rather than him talk to you if you're cuddling

cause he likes the sound of your voice and he loves hearing about your day

he tries to listen so attentively to what you're saying, but if you're taking a little too long telling him about that batty old customer that had visited the shop you work at today, his eyes are going to slowly start to droop and he's gonna let out a big ol yawn that means it's time for him to close his eyes

you always cut yourself off like 'sorry, jake. g'head, go to sleep'

and he insists you continue like 'nooo darlin' i wanna hear! keep going :]' except within two minutes he's dozing against the pillow while you talk about the old lady again

he's a simple man just talk soft and slow to him while snuggled up in his arms and he's gonna sleep no matter what you're telling him

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace:

she really likes laying face-to-face with you!!

she's a fan of spooning, of course, she likes either burying her face in your back or letting you snuggle into hers

but she loves the intimacy that comes from being pretty much nose-to-nose with you

the type to lay there and chat with you mere inches away so that you're leaning in to kiss her all giggly and bashful every four seconds

she uses your cuddle time to tell you all about her teammates, what stupid shit jake said today, how bob almost tripped down the stairs, that fanboy's got a new girlfriend who wants to meet you, etc etc etc

but that means when you see them next you know all of the hot gossip about everyone and you giggle every time jake says something dumb and he's like WHAT.. WHAT IS IT.. WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME.. and you give nat this little ;) 'cause you'll definitely be talking shit about him later

she does this thing where she cradles the back of your head in her hand if you're face to face and she throws her leg over your waist and it gives you such intense butterflies that you need to close your eyes sometimes <3333

Robert 'Bob' Floyd:

cuddlebug <3

he loooves cuddling but if you do it face-to-face he's gonna need to be super close to you because he can't see without his glasses 😭

i'm taking like nose-to-nose so close that you have to cross your eyes to see him

otherwise he's pretty chill in what positions he likes

you love it when he reads to you

i think he might not be the most confident reader out loud but he does it anyways 'cause it puts you to sleep

he gets really sleepy really easily so sometimes it's best to refrain from cuddling in public

like you're out on the beach by a firepit and you're all snuggled up together but oops he can't enjoy his smores because he's sleeping on your shoulder

he loves it when you lay your head on his shoulder sm :'))

he wraps his arm around you and tugs you closer <3

Javy 'Coyote' Machado:

prefers holding to being held

probably a little less talkative than the rest, but that doesn't mean you never chat

he just has this insane ability to fall asleep anywhere, i'm talking slumped against the bus window, leaning against the wall, sitting on the ground, piloting his aircraft sorry

he likes staring at you, though, while he falls asleep :')

if you're talking to him he'll listen and nod and hum along and agree when he should, he's a very good listener

but slowly he'll start to fade a bit, and he'll sling his hand over your waist, smush his face into the pillow, and keep listening for as long as he can

slooooowly you start getting less responses from him, he's not reacting as much, but his eyes are always locked onto your face and he's got this lazy little smile on his face while he drifts off to sleep 'cause he gets to look at you the whole time :')

loverboy!!

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia:

the most talkative in the whole wide world

cuddling with him is barely even cuddling, it's watching him act out his entire day

'and then payback went like this and- BAM! shot it down.'

and he's up on his knees in the middle of the bed with his arms out demonstrating exactly how they'd worked through their training exercises that day

and he is loud and energetic and you're half-asleep like 'that sounds awesome, babe.'

he isn't one to stay in one place really, he likes tossing and turning a bit before he falls asleep which means that you are also going to be tossed and turned

he's a really shifty sleeper too so you'll wake up with your face in his armpit

if you're really sleepy though, he'll settle down, he'll pull you into his chest and let you fall asleep there

but he'll probably be on his phone for a bit, he strikes me as a crazy night owl

Reuben 'Payback' Fitch:

out in two seconds

there is no conscious cuddling with him

why?

because the second his head hits the pillow he's snoring

you can cuddle up to him but if he's cuddling up to you he's doing it in his sleep

you're actually so jealous of him bc you lay down for the night and he tucks his chin over your head or he snuggles his face into your neck and that's it.

he's out.

he's a clingy sleeper, though, so if you wanna read for a bit or use your phone it might be kind of hard

honestly it really helps your sleep schedule to sleep with him 'cause sometimes he's entirely wrapped around you and you can't move

so there's nothing to do but sleep yourself

he's like a living furnace i KNOW that man runs hot

you probably wake up sweating a bunch if you're all snuggly with him

blanket stealer. he somehow manages to tear them off of the end of the bed where they're tucked in and cocoon himself

and then you wake up freezing cold

when i said he snores i mean it he snores loud

it's sort of comforting eventually? like at first it drives u insane

but over time you come to rely on it as white noise and you can't sleep unless he's all over you snoring right in your ear and drooling on your shoulder

[emmedoesntdomath]

ok, but imagine young bradley repeatedly getting pissed when people don’t seem to understand that uncle (dad) mav loves uncle (pops) ice.

a coworker when they see him in public: *to ice and mav* it’s nice that you guys get along for young bradshaw here

bradley, squinting at this man like he’s stupid: but they always get along?

mav, snickering: thanks

-

a classmate when he has to do a family tree: wait so why are they next to each other again?

bradley, who had watched this same kid give a presentation with the same lines with his aunt and uncle: …because they are? why wouldn’t they be?

classmate, even more confused: but-

-

a teacher when he first goes to the academy: maverick is a brilliant pilot, but you shouldn’t try to be like him. the only reason he still has a job is because he’s friends with admiral kazansky

bradley, with the most deadpan look on his face: friends? really? they’re friends? is that it?

the teacher, absolutely appalled: bradshaw, that’s not how you talk about your superiors-

-

jake, thinking he’s funny: *talking about their “friendship”* c’mon, rooster, a good ol’ rivalry never hurt no one. look at maverick and iceman. legends.

bradley, over this shit: THEY’RE GAY YOU DUMBASS. IN LOVE. THE MOST HOMOSEXUAL SHIT YOU’VE EVER SEEN. THE ONLY RIVALRY THEY HAVE IS OVER WHO HAS TO DO THE DISHES.

jake, who still thinks he’s funny: …your point being?

[k9effect]

"He's got a soft spot for you, Kazansky."

"I know, Sir."

Some injured!Mav doodles which were all gonna be posted separately but go quite well together actually ahah

I don't know if people notice, but i sometimes draw Mav with an eyebrow slit. It's not because he thinks its fashionable or anything, its from an accident he was in where he got a nasty deep cut across his brow. Some debris tried to take his eye out but just missed its mark. The cut scarred over and the hair never grew back.

The first drawing is of that accident (the world needs more bloodied Mav). The second is when Ice first got to him in hospital. And the third is when they got home and Ice managed to actually get Mav to rest instead of bouncing off the walls like he usually would.

[Click for better quality, reblogs and tags appreciated]

[hang-a-roo]

All the married flyboys probably picked Mav up by his armpits to show their wives the " stray kitten Viper let them keep".

Merlin, holding Mav: Look honey! This is the stray kitten!:D

Merlins wife: …Dear, that’s an adult man.

Mav: PUT ME DOWN-!

[mamsieur]

Used to it | Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Summary : Being Pete Mitchell's daughter has never been easy. But maybe one mission could bring you back together ?

TW : angst and fluff, angst with a happy ending, mention of alcohol, panic attack, canonical character death, age gap (reader is 27 and Bradley is 35)

Length : 7156 words

AN : I'm sorry for making Pete seem like a bad father but that man is not stable enough to handle a child in my opinion.

posted on AO3 July 12, 2023

You were 7 when your mother left your father, Pete Mitchell. 

You didn't have many early memories of him. There were only the arguments with your mother, his departures on missions that left you in tears, the missed birthdays and Christmases. It’s all you’ve ever known so you were used to it and being a child, you found it normal.

You were 7 when your mother decided to move out, leaving your whole life behind. You remember crying your eyes out in protest. As your mom tried desperately to get you out of the house, you clung with all your might to Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw was 15 and your regular babysitter, though your mother thought of him as a son, Carole and her were really close. They liked to remind you that when you were 4, you proudly announced that you were going to marry him. Bradley was almost always around, and Pete was his godfather, and they had a bond you envied. Despite the eight-year age difference, you remember being very close to your "Bradbrad" . He never pushed you away, was always ready to play Lego or other board games with you. He even took you to the park or with him when he went to the theater with his friends - when the movies were kids friendly -.

You were 7 , and your whole world shattered. No more Bradley, no more hanging to the naval base to have a glimpse of your dad and his incredible plane, no more aunty Carole and her sweet singing. You had hated your mom for years before understanding you left for the best.  She was finally happy ; not completely, she missed her friends and sometimes your father, but you could feel that she was happier away from the hustle and bustle of the navy, of your dad. You were not used to the strange calmness of the city, but your grandparents made it easy to adapt. Soon enough, you got used to the loving cocoon your mother succeeded to create around you.

You were 16, at your mother's funeral, when you had to accept the fact that you had to go back to live with Pete. When the two of you finally found each other in the crowd, he didn't say much, just gave you a few brief updates. You asked him about Bradley, a bit sad to not have seen him here, and he didn't have much to say. Only that the two of them were no longer as close as they had been.

The silence between you was uncomfortable. 

Of course, Pete had kept in touch over the years, calling on your birthdays, sending a little something. You spent some Christmas with him when he wasn't working and a few days during the summer break ; but Pete Mitchell loved his work too much to focus on you. As long as you lived with your mother, Pete's absence from your life wasn't something you suffered from, at least not really. 

You were used to it. Used to the absence, used to the missed calls, used to the Christmases with the attention of other aviators and their families but the ignorance of your dad, used to the unanswered phone calls.  Used to his silence.

But now your mum was dead... and you were dreading having to join your father in California.

You were 16 and you didn't want to live with him, you already knew what would happen ; he'd go flying, on a mission or for his own pleasure, leaving you alone at home - if you could call it home. The hangar where he lived now was something you'd always hated . It had no place for anything or anyone other than his passion for the sky, for planes and speed. You didn't want to leave your new life, even though you loved California. Your school, your friends, your family, your routine. But you didn't really have much of a choice. You were 16. He was now your legal guardian and you didn't want to drag your grandparents into a custody battle.  Even though part of you told yourself that your dad would probably agree to let you stay with them, you didn't want to take that chance. And you hoped he'd be more present, that you'd finally have the father you'd dreamed of, that your other friends had. If other military parents could be there for their children, why couldn't Pete?

Perhaps because Pete loved flying more than anything else in the world.  The sky was his one true love.

Even though you knew it, you held out the faintest hope that he would finally take his responsibilities as a father. Unfortunately, Pete was still Pete. He wasn't cut out to be a father. A fun uncle, maybe. A parent, no. The fact that Bradley no longer spoke to him proved that.

You were 18 when you packed your bags and headed off to the naval school in Maryland. You wanted to be a pilot too. And you wanted to get away from that bloody hangar, so empty, so alone.

Pete wasn't there when you left.  Not even a message or a note. Nothing at all.

You weren't even surprised.

It was Tom Kazansky - Uncle Tom - who had taken you to the airport. He had been more present in your life than your own father, even though you rarely saw him. You knew your relationship with Pete was a sensitive subject, and you knew when Tom gave him a hard time. Pete was suddenly more present - too present . He'd pop into your life for a few days, trying to be the cool or bossy dad, but it always ended in a fight. 

You hated it when he did that. You hated the way he would act like your friend, or like a strict parent, talking about curfew and how no boys were allowed in his 'home'. You hated the way he would try to be the father that he had never been in your whole life. You hated the way he tried to convince you that he was trying to change, that he'd be there for you.

But you couldn't blame Uncle Tom for trying to shake your father. He had children too, but despite his love of the air, he had been a present parent to them.  

But some days were not as bad as others. Sometimes, when he was in a good mood, Pete would take you flying. And even though it was hard to admit, you were a bit of a flier yourself. The feeling of freedom, of being alone in a comforting way. It was mesmerizing.

So, without him knowing, you decided to join the navy after graduation. You took your mother's name, Evans , so that you would not attract attention. Only Tom knew, so your dad wouldn't and couldn't pull your papers like he did with Bradley. 

You found out that he had done this when you saw Bradley one day in the summer before you made your choice. At first you did not recognize him.  He was 26 now. He was taller, more muscular and had a 80s mustache that suited him well - puberty had treated him really good. He was the spitting image of his father, whom you'd only seen in photographs and heard about when Tom and Pete reminisced over drinks about the past.

But Bradley had the same look in his eyes as his mother, Carole. 

As a child, you adored Carole. She was always there to comfort you when your parents were at odds, picking you up from kindergarten when your father was on a mission and your mother was at work… She was kind of a second mom. You went to her funeral with your mother eight years ago, you never cried so much.

The summer of your reunion with Bradley had been the summer of his return from the Naval Academy, which he had graduated from with honors. He was a very good pilot and would soon be going on a mission. The day before he left, you snuck out of the hangar to meet him at a nearby bar. He had celebrated his departure with you and a handful of friends, promising to keep in touch as often as possible.  As he left, you realized how much you'd missed your Bradbrad.

You were 18, and you remembered how quiet the ride to the airport had been. Part of you wanted to stay.  You loved California. It was close to the ocean, the people were friendly, and at the Navy base everyone knew you.

You'd even earned a nickname, the call sign you hoped to use soon : Tempest .  It was a bittersweet memory of a stormy night when Pete "forgot" to pick you up from baseball practice. You had landed on the base, mad as hell, soaked to the bone. You'd yelled at your father as hard as the storm had raged. It had been a huge fight. And of course, everyone had heard. Surprisingly, many had defended you rather than your father. You were relieved then. And to cheer you up while your dad was embarrassed, Tom took you to your favorite fast food and laughed with you about the scene. "You walked in there like a damn storm, a tempest ! Heck, that should be your call sign when you join the ranks !" You smiled as you remembered his raspy laugh and all the stories he told you about his days at Topgun . 

It was through those stories that you learned a little bit more about your father, The Maverick . His accomplishments, his reckless attitude in the air, his urge to always define what’s possible and pushing the limits.  Your desire, your need , to join the Navy to become a pilot only grew, digging a hole of longing for the sky deep inside you.  You wanted your father to see you, to acknowledge you. You wanted to be more like him.

You were 27 years old when you were called to the NAS North Island for a "top secret" mission that required "the best of the best". To your surprise, you were one of the youngest and one of the only women. But you'd missed California too much to worry about such details.  Like many pilots, you had joined the Hard Deck for a drink the day before training began. You soon met Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Two strong personalities. Then came Javy “Coyote” Machado and Robert "Bob" Floyd. He was discreet, a bit shy. And before you could introduce yourself to the others, someone entered the bar and caught Jake's eye.

"Bradshaw. As I live and breathe."

"Hangman. You look... good." His voice was behind you and you didn't dare turn around to see him. 

"Well, I am good. I'm very good Rooster ."

You let the two men talk, then Bradley greeted Natasha and the others. At last, his gaze landed on you. You couldn't help but smile stupidly. He looked so surprised and happy. "Y/N Tempest Evans?!"

"Hey Bradbrad ..." you smiled and happily accepted his embrace. He squeezed you against him and asked you all about your journey, which you happily did, while in the distance the bell rang, indicating that a customer couldn't pay his bill and had to be kicked out. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you recognized your father, but Jake and Javy had already grabbed him by the arms and dragged him outside. You didn’t have the time to really think about it, Bradley taking you by the hand to sing with him at the piano. You laughed and followed him with the others in his Great balls of fire ’s reprise. It had been a great night.

The next day, at the first meeting, you thought your heart stopped when you saw that your instructor was actually Pete... and from the look on his face, he wasn't happy to see you there. Before the meeting was over, you heard his voice call your name ; it had a barely disguised note of anger. "Lieutenant Evans. You’ll stay after training, we'll have a word."

Bradley looked at you, concerned. He knew that you had never told Pete about the Navy, but he didn't know that even after nine years, your father was still unaware of your career. The others were confused and you could feel questioning gazes on you. Great way to begin this thing , you thought.

You were 27 and a very good pilot. An excellent one. One of the best. That's why you were here after all, wasn’t it ? You walked in your father’s footsteps, perhaps as talented as him at that age. But you were also as reckless as him, living up to your callsign. A tempest was never soft or delicate, neither were you. You had risked your life so many times in your five years of service. Tom often told you that you were just like your father and that it scared him. You didn’t think, you just did , you wanted to go faster, higher and further. Acting like the storm that you were, leaving your enemies confused by what had just happened. The adrenaline, the speed, the immensity of the sky, the feeling of freedom... you finally understood why Pete loved being in his plane so much.  You felt a little closer to him in those moments.

And yet, in nine years of absence, he had never once contacted you. You had disappeared one day and he hadn't even looked for you.  Your uncle had promised not to say anything about your career, but Pete hadn't even been interested in why or where you were going.

Seeing him angry made you furious . How could he have the nerve to be mad at you? 

After the training and the 200 pushups you had to do because - of course - you didn't beat your old man, you stayed on deck and waited for the others to leave. Bradley gave you a little squeeze on the shoulder, as if to give you strength, and reluctantly left. You heard Hondo telling Pete to calm himself before saying things he might regret out of anger.

Once again, the silence between you and your father was heavy. 

You couldn't take your eyes off him, waiting for him to finally speak. You could see that he was trying to stay calm. But you already felt like exploding . You could feel the reproaches, the so-called concern. You could feel that he wanted to push you away . 

"Y/N... how did you... you went to the Academy behind my back?!"

"Iceman," you replied simply, your eyes and voice cold. "And you never asked where I was either."

"You-?! I should have known, you lied to me." 

“It’s not lying if you’re not asked.” you mutter, “You taught me that.”

“Now’s not the time to play that game Y/N,” he snapped, "you can't be here."

"With all due respect, Captain, that's not your call."

You really tried to remain calm, knowing that the others must have been listening nearby - especially Jake. You didn't want to draw any more attention, but you felt your blood boiling under your skin.

"I will talk to Vice Admiral Simpson about this. I don't suppose anyone's made the connection between us. But now there's clearly a conflict of interest-"

"You have no right to take this mission away from me. It's not fair," you gasped, eyes wide.

"I am your father ! I can and will do it."

"What ?! No ! No, you can't ! 9 years of nothing but silence and now you're acting like a worried father ?!" you snapped, moving towards him and pointing an accusing finger. A nervous laugh escaped you and you sighed, pursing your lips. "Why do you always have to act like this ? You've never acted like a father to me, except to get in my way !"

"Get in your way ? No ! I care about you-"

"Really ?!" you cut him off, raising your voice, "Then where have you been for 9 years ?! What did Tom have to say to you that you weren't even lookin' for me ? Where was all this care when I left and you were not here ? Where were you huh ?! Where was all that concern ?!"

Pete's eyes widened and he searched for words. He should have known that he could not argue with your point so he just huffed then scolded. "I'm your captain, Lieutenant Evans ! Keep your voice down !"

"Oh, now it's not my father talking ?!" you couldn't hold back a nervous, fake laugh. "You see how you are ?! Always twisting things your way ?! Why are you avoiding that conversation ? Why are you running away again ?!" you’re almost screaming, inches close to him, eyes locked in his.

"Lieutenant Evans !" he growled. You grumbled and let out a heavy sight, calming yourself. You stepped back and clenched your fists along your body.

"Will that be all, Captain Mitchell ?"

You clenched your fists even harder, your knuckles turning white. You wanted to physically shake him to finally have answers. But you couldn’t, at least not here, not now.

"Y/N..." he huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Will that be all, Captain ?" you repeated, your voice slightly trembling. Tears of rage threatened to fall. You held them back, too proud to cry in front of him. Pete looked at you and sighed quietly. 

"You're dismissed Lieutenant Evans..."

You left the deck with a quick stride. Your heart was pounding in your chest, a mixture of anger, frustration and sadness. Of course, the rest of the squadron was there, already clean and changed. Seeing the anger in your eyes, no one said a word, not even Hangman. He just stared at you, confused, as you slammed the door of the changing room. 

Later that evening, as the squadron relaxed at the bar, Jake couldn't help but bring up the earlier scene. 

"So our dear Tempest's dad is the famous Maverick?"

" He's not my father ," you muttered, finishing another beer. "My genitor maybe. But he's not my father."

"Why Evans if Mitchell's your old man?" Jake insisted. 

You could hear Bradley and Natasha telling him to drop it, but he kept coming back. You could feel your anger rising again.  You downed another beer and slammed the empty bottle down on the table. 

"Tell me, Bagman , weren’t you taught to keep your mouth shut about things that don't concern you? I'm sure your mama taught you some manners, didn't she? Now shut up before I put my fist through your face," you growled, half drunk, half angry. Jake scoffed and held his hands up in defense while Bob stopped you from approaching him. Seeing your father enter the bar only made you feel worse. And it took all your patience not to slit Jake's throat on the spot as he continued his overly curious and unpleasant comments with his snide attitude.

Bradley went with you to get some fresh air as he wasn't too keen on seeing Pete either. When you arrived at the beach, a wave of sadness washed over you. You knew that your father would do everything in his power to get you out of this mission, but what was worse was that he didn't even try to talk to you, to reconnect. Your shoulders shook and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Only a sobbing hiccup betrayed you and Bradley rushed to take you in his arms. You felt the strength leave your legs and the two of you ended up sitting in the sand, crying your eyes out and clinging to Bradley. "I've got you... Let it all out..." he murmured between two kisses on the top of your head. His big hands gently stroked your back, letting go of all your pain. "It's okay, baby girl... it's okay..." 

Bradley and you practically lived together now. You’ve inherited your mom’s old house by the ocean and it’s confier than being on base. So those kinds of pet names were almost common now. But this time you didn’t blush at it, your emotions a mess.

You cried against him for a long time, as you hadn't done for many years. Rooster held you until you calmed down.  "It's not fair..." you whispered, sniffling. "He's going to take me off the mission..." 

"He won't be able to... Ice recommended you... there's nothing he can do about it..."

You shrugged, not really sure if Tom could help you. He was very ill and you didn't want to tire him out with your disagreements with your father.

“He’s just an old dickhead, don’t worry…” Bradley tried to cheer you up but you’re too distraught to play along. After a little less than an hour later, you find the force to get up and you head home with him. You fall asleep in the car and wake up the next morning in your bed.

There wasn't much time left before the mission. Training sessions were coming up and so were your fights with Pete. Cyclone hadn't pulled you out of the mission, but you weren't sure if it was to spite your father or because he felt you were capable of succeeding, just like your comrades.

Days passed at an alarming pace. The team slowly bonded through group exercises and moments of relaxation, especially with the game your father had invented: dogfight football.

You couldn't lie, it felt good to have such moments. But your father still didn't talk to you and you were still angry. You remained professional, but you couldn't stand his fatherly attitude towards you.

All your hopes of renewing real ties disappeared when you learned of Tom's death. You had seen him the day before and he had made you promise to try to take care of Pete. His funeral was one of the hardest moments of your life.

And because bad news never comes alone, the mission was moved up by a week. Pete was temporarily relieved of his duties, as Admiral Simpson still believed his plan of attack was doomed to failure. Of course, your father, in his legendary arrogance and cockiness, proved him wrong with an unauthorized flight. Hope rose in the team but it was still a very risky plan. 

Cyclone decided to make Pete team leader, and not surprisingly, he didn't choose you as his wingman. Part of you was angry because you felt you could do it, and another part of you was mortified when he announced that his choice would be Bradley. This mission was suicide, and you couldn't afford to lose them both. You couldn't afford to lose anyone in the squadron, but these two, it was just too much.

You didn't catch up with Pete as much as you wanted to, there were still so many questions left unanswered, so much time to make up for… You hadn't been able to make things right with your dad, you hadn't been able to tell him that you had this passion for aviation because of him. You hadn't been able to tell him that you regretted not telling him about the academy, that you regretted the 9 years of distance between you...

And you didn't spend enough time with Bradley.

Sure, you were always glued to each other in your free time, taking walks on the beach, talking and singing together at the Hard Deck piano, having movie nights... but you didn't want it to stop. Not after you'd half confessed how you felt about him after a few too many drinks, telling him that your 4-year-old declaration still stood. He laughed and told you that he hadn't forgotten either.

On the day of the mission, you barely managed to find your way to your father. "Captain?" your voice was louder than you had expected.

"Lieutenant Evans?"

"I... Before you go, I'd like to talk-"

"We'll talk when I get back."

"... Promise me you'll come back." 

For a moment, you were that five-year-old girl again, watching her father leave. Pete must have seen it in your eyes and climbed down from the cockpit to take you in his arms. "I promise I'll come back in one piece, kiddo..." You hugged him tightly and nodded in agreement. After a few seconds, you let go and let him settle down.  You ran to Bradley and made him promise you the same. He smiled confidently, even though you knew he was stressed. "Don't worry, we've got a Star Wars marathon to watch," he smiled before gently and discreetly kissing your forehead. You blushed and nodded, a worried little smile on your face. 

Reluctantly, you left the track and joined Jake. You were glued to your radios, following the progress of the mission.  Everything was going well until two enemy fighters spotted them. 

You stopped breathing. 

First they had Bradley in sight and locked on. 

The enemy fired. 

But your father took the brunt of the missiles and saved Rooster.

Your brain didn't know how to process all this information and shut down when you heard Bradley's decision to go after Pete before getting shot down too.

You don't remember much else. All you knew is that Jake had to leave in a hurry to find and rescue them. When they landed with that really out beat up F-14, you rushed out on deck to greet them, swallowing all your worry and anger at their unconscious behavior for the moment.

Once ashore, the entire crew decided to celebrate their success at Penny's Bar, dragging Pete with them. You stayed close to Bradley, as if afraid that it was all a dream and that he wasn't really there. He wouldn't let go of you either, his arm tight around you. You felt like a schoolgirl, it was stupidly comfortable. You looked at Pete, who was happily chatting with Penny and other members of the team. You didn't want to spoil the evening with a discussion that was out of your control…

Around one o'clock you went out for some fresh air, leaving Bradley to play with those who hadn't returned home yet ; Reuben, Natasha, Mickey and Javy.

As a cold shiver ran through you, you felt a heavy jacket on your shoulders. You immediately recognized the peculiar smell ; old whiskey mixed with motor oil and a hint of cologne.

" Dad ? "

"I thought you wanted to talk ?" he asked quietly, moving toward the beach. You nodded and took his pinky with yours like a child, searching for your words.

"I'm sorry..." you breathed, holding back your tears. "For going to the Academy behind your back and not telling you… not talking to you for almost ten years... I know that giving news is supposed to go both ways and all, but... but you weren't even there when I left... and I guess... I guess I resented you as much as I wanted you to be there, you know ?" you sniffed before continuing your monologue. "I just wanted you to see me . ‘Cause… it’s because of you I wanted to go down this road, you gave me this love for flight, for speed, for the sky. I... I just wanted you to be happy that we finally had something in common, but... but you had already pulled Bradley's papers, so I didn't think and I just did what seemed most logical and easiest. Take Mom's name, ask Ice not to tell you. I know it was stupid… but I also know it would have hurt too much if you had stopped me. And... And then no news for nine years... It hurt even more. The Academy and my first years of service weren't what I thought they would be... it was rough and sometimes I just… I just wanted to call you to come and pick me from there… but… but I wouldn't change that for the world. Because I’m still a Mitchell and Mitchells never quit right ?” You took a few seconds, your gaze meeting his, to see if he wanted to intervene but he didn’t. He just looked at you, taking all the information you gave him. You let out a shaky breath, playing with the sleeves of his jacket nervously. “And I know you must and may resent me for the rest of my life, but… but I just wanted you to be proud of me and... and for us to finally be a family." You bit your lip, trying to calm the flow of emotions that came through.

The sky began to rumble and your father remained silent after your speech. A few tears rolled down your cheeks as he couldn't find the words.

"Please, Dad, say something..." you sighed, your voice breaking.

The rain began to fall slowly and Pete's silence was too much for your heart to take. He couldn't even look at you anymore. You thought you could take it ; you were used to his silenced treatment, used to the fact that he couldn’t express his feelings. But right now, you needed him to speak, to ease your worries, to confront you.

"Dad... please... I'm begging you... talk to me…" you repeated desperately.

You broke down again and cried like a little girl in front of your mute father. You hated that he couldn't open up to you and you hated that he saw you so frail, so fragile.  Your sobs mingled with the rain, which grew heavier, the wind and waves making the silence deafening. You bit your lip and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, in vain.

"I know I'm not... I know you didn't plan… you didn’t want to have me with mom-"

"No, it's true... I never planned to be a father... The very idea of having children terrified me and still does," Pete interrupted you, "but... you're one of the most beautiful things, if not the most, that has ever happened to me. And I'm petrified of anything happening to you, I'm helpless on so many levels... and I... I didn't know how to be there when you needed me... I know I must have let you down a lot..." He sighed, catching his breath and holding back his own tears. "I thought... it would be best for both of us to let you have your freedom... but the weeks, months and years went by and I didn't have the guts to try to contact you. I was too ashamed... but Y/N, I never stopped loving you... you're my daughter... and even if you have my damn temper and your mom’s stubbornness," you couldn't hold back a little laugh and a slight smile despite your tears, which your father tenderly chased away with his thumb, "you'll always be my little girl, too eager to get on our little plane for a ride, passionate and fierce… I don’t resent you… I think I would have done it your way if my old man put me in this situation…" He allowed himself to cry as well as the two of you finally hugged each other, relieved of an enormous weight.

"I love you too, Dad... sorry for everything..." you mumbled against his shoulder.

"No, no… I’m sorry… It's my turn to apologize, sweetheart..."

The two of you lay embracing in the rain for a while, making up for years of distance in a few minutes. You were the first to let go. You once again took his hand like a child.

"We better get back before Hangman starts gossiping..."

"Or before Bradley starts worrying," Pete teased. You blushed and looked at him with wide eyes. "What? Like I haven't noticed the way you two look at each other. I'm not that blind kid!" He laughed “Ah… your mom and Carole would have been thrilled !”

You returned to the bar, soaking wet, chatting about anything and everything. Seeing you, Bradley's expression changed from worried to relieved, then back to worried as he noticed you were shivering a little from the cold. He politely left his conversation with Mickey to join you.

"Are you okay? Do you want to go home and change?"

"That would be a good idea..." you smiled at him. You had to admit you were exhausted from this rollercoaster of emotions. You said goodbye to the others from a distance, then to your father in a final hug, and followed Bradley back to his old blue Bronco. The two of you made your way to your small house. 

Bradley was a good roommate. You each had your own room, but you often fell asleep together in front of the TV or on one of your beds after long late-night discussions. You liked the routine you created. And you hoped with all your might that nothing would change. But your feelings for him were becoming more and more obvious in your mind and heart. You wondered how much longer you could hide it.

Seeing you so silent, Bradley placed his hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Are you all right, lil’ Tempest?" 

His eyes never left the road as his thumb traced small circles on your jeans. A shiver ran through your entire body and you wished this contact would never end.

"Everything's fine Roo... don't worry..."

"Okay..."

He squeezed your knee again and left his hand on your thigh. The warmth of his palm made you shiver and you placed your hand on top of his shyly. Once again, you felt like a teenager. It was stupid.

The ride home was rather quiet, in a comforting way, Bradley driving carefully in the pouring rain and humming the song that passed on the radio. When he parked, you stayed in the car for a moment. You sensed that he had something he wanted to say to you, and he sensed the same thing on your side. After a few minutes of silence and shy glances, he smiled at you, got out of the car, and you followed. He ran to unlock the door and waited for you under the porch.

You wanted to run as well, but your legs felt heavy. That's when your anxiety decided to take over. The stress and worry of the past few days were finally catching up to you. As you saw Bradley step out into the rain with a worried expression, the conversation on the radio played in your head. Your father's F-18 had exploded, and Bradley was on his way to pick him up. And now it was his turn to go down. A huge pressure on your chest stopped you from breathing and new tears rolled down your cheeks. You couldn't move, pinned to the pavement. Silent sobs shook you as your vision blurred. You couldn't see or hear Bradley any more. You felt so alone, so cold. Your panic attack froze you under the heavy rain and you couldn't get out of it. You couldn't hear anything except the intense ringing in your ear. You wanted to throw up. The world spun around you as your mind screamed what the communications officer had said earlier, "Maverick's down ! Rooster's down !" 

They were dead. 

For the long forty minutes or so that followed, they were dead .  And you were stuck in that loop. One minute everything was fine, the mission was a complete success. The next, the last two most important people in your life were dead. The ground began to feel strangely unstable as you fought harder to breathe. Eventually your legs gave out and you felt yourself fall, but you didn't hit the ground. You felt two arms around you, holding you securely but not too tightly, then lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. The buzzing in your ears slowly faded away and you didn't feel the rain on your skin anymore. You gasped for air when you finally heard Breadley call your name, concern in his voice. As you raised your eyes to look at him, a sudden relief washed over you and you couldn't help but sob again.

He was home. You were home. With him.

"What's going on, Y/N? Hey... Breathe... breathe and talk to me..." he said quietly.

"I thought... I thought you and Dad... you... you were dead..." you managed to say between sobbing hiccups. You clung to his shirt, afraid he would fade away. He smiled a little and kissed the top of your head as he cupped your cheeks with his calloused hands. Then he took your hands and laid them flat on his heart. You could feel it beating at a regular pace.

"I'm here. I’m okay. You're okay. I'm very much alive, Mav is too, and you're stuck with me, with us, little Tempest..."

"Yeah ? Promise ?" you sniffed, your lower lip still trembling.

"Yeah... Promise." he smiled at you again then hugged you tightly. 

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, the bristles of his mustache tickling you a little. One of your hands reached up to his neck, your fingers brushing his little hair. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, absorbing each other's presence. You felt so relaxed in his arms, as if you belonged there. Your heart fluttered as you heard him hum one of your favorite songs and then felt him beginning to slow dance with you, taking you peacefully to the bathroom.  You were too exhausted and shaken from your panic attack to even ask him what he was doing. You just obliged and listened to him, hypnotized. He declared that you needed a long relaxing bath and in the meantime he would order pizza. He helped you take off your shoes and socks, then your hoodie. He kissed your forehead and let you finish undressing, leaving the bathroom to give you some privacy. 

You couldn’t stay too long in the bath, your mind being too loud. You knew you would break down again if you weren’t close to him .  Bradley made you feel safe, secure, grounded. That was what you needed to relax. You were so used to being alone before, used to the silence, the empty rooms. But since he decided to kind of move in with you, you couldn’t bear the loneliness. The house was so warm now, so welcoming and comfy.

As you crossed his room after you’ve washed, you noticed that old hoodie you bought him one Christmas when you were in naval school. It’s a silly one, the hood designed to look like a rooster. An amused sigh escaped you and you took it to wear. It was still as soft and comfy as the day you bought it. 

“Stealing my clothes I see ?” he chuckled when you joined him in the kitchen.

“Stealing my beers I see ?” you teased him back, pointing at the bottle in his hand, “I thought cranberry beers were for chicks ?” 

“Mama Carole didn’t raise me to be picky” He scoffed in défense, with a smirk.

“Oh I know she didn’t. And my mama didn’t raise me to steal, I’m just borrowing that hoodie.” you smiled, putting the hood on. “Look, we’re twins now, Rooster !”

The both of you laughed at that stupid joke. He then smiled at you and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“Feeling better sweets ?”

“Yeah… sorry about that I… I think these past days were a bit too much for my brain…”

“Don’t be sorry… it’s normal to break sometimes… everyone does.” 

You hummed and nodded, but before you could talk, the doorbell rang. “Must be the pizzas ! Get yourself comfortable on the couch and choose a movie Y/N, I’ll be right back !” He kissed your cheek, close to your lips - too close - and ran to the door. You stood there for a moment, cheeks and heart warming up, before doing what he asked you.  Once again, you felt like a schoolgirl at her first sleepover with her crush. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach and your face turning a bit red. 

You should tell him.  But you risked losing that friendship you had. And at the same time, you wanted more than that. You wanted to feel his arms around you, his lips - oh those lips - on you, to wake up next to him each and every morning in your bed… You fantasized about a life with him for a minute, not noticing him getting back with the food. You jumped slightly when he waved his hand in front of your eyes to snap you out of your reverie. Your gaze locked with his as he asked if everything was all right.

"Yes, yes... I was just lost in thought..." you smiled shyly, your cheeks flushed, letting him settle in beside you. He took the plaid to cover both of you, then put his arm around your shoulders.

"And what were you thinking about? Or who?" He teased.

"About us, actually..."

"Us?" He said, a little surprised.

Your cheeks were crimson. You'd said too much already. You couldn't run anymore. You just nodded, not daring to meet his gaze.  You felt him come closer and turn a little towards you after a few seconds of silence.

"Me too, I have to admit..." 

"Really?" you almost whispered, looking up at him. He smiled and nodded.

"Yeah... to tell you the truth, I like it here, but... I don't want to be just another roommate anymore. We're pretty similar in a lot of things, Phoenix even says we look like an old married couple that's always jammed together." You chuckled a little but couldn't help but agree. Bradley smiled a little before continuing, a little nervously. "And... the crash, almost getting killed... It made me realize a lot of things... like the fact that I didn't want to lose you. And that... maybe... the fact that I felt so comfortable with you meant... meant more than friendship..."

Your heart raced in your chest. Was he going to confess what you were thinking? You bit the inside of your cheek to prove to yourself that you weren't dreaming, and before he could continue, you pulled him by his collar and crushed your lips against his. The kiss was desperate, as if you needed it to keep on living. Bradley didn't waste a second in responding, one of his hands sliding up your cheek and the other down your back to press you against him. You would have liked that moment to last forever, but the lack of air forced you to pull away a little. He pressed his forehead against yours and let out a small laugh. "I guess it's mutual, then?"

"You're a little genius aren’t you ?" You couldn't help but tease him before kissing him again.

You felt so good against him, kiss after kiss. You felt complete, soothed. 

And you could easily get used to it .

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Limits

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

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

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

WC: 4000+

This is Part 5 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Captain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile back at him. “I agree.”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

You scoff resentfully. “Don’t be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t,” you say.

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

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

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

“What’s Charlie going to think?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

“Captain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sam,” he says. “He’s not the one.”

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

You groan. “Not again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You exhale sharply. “Finish, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maverick stills immediately, watching you uneasily.

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

“I’m not –”

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

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

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

“You were distracted –”

“You’re making excuses for me! Why?”

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

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

Maverick narrows his eyes. “What about Charlie?”

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

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

“Stop coddling me,” you say firmly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[callsign-mayhem]

heartbreak feels so good (part 1)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 8081 CW: Shitty boyfriends, angst, fluff, slow burn.

Your boyfriend's callsign is Viper, which is fitting. Bradley doesn't know how much longer he can watch this man destroy you, but luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long.

Use of Y/N, but no description of reader. THIS IS A MULTI-PART FIC.

After another day of having your feelings totally ignored by your boyfriend, you were looking forward to some alone time. Elijah was so hot and cold that you felt as though you were in a constant state of fight or flight, just waiting for him to either make your day or ruin it completely. Most of the time, it was the latter, and although good days with him were few and far between, they were enough to make you stay. See, you didn’t half-ass anything—least of all relationships—so when you were in something, you were in it. You told Elijah that much after your first date. You’d been sitting in the front of his beemer eating ice cream, having the first of many deep talks. Between sweet, sticky kisses, you’d told him that you were dating to marry. He told you he was, too. 

He said, ‘I’m yours if you’ll have me, Y/N.’ And that was that.

And it was almost a year ago. You’d survived a somewhat tumultuous winter with him, desperately trying to cling on to the version of him he’d been during the summer. As time went on, he stopped putting his mask on, secure enough in your relationship that he no longer felt the need to pretend to be caring and considerate. The days were starting to get longer, and the weather was warming up again, but Elijah was so far from the man he was at the start that you might as well have been in a relationship with a different person. Every morning, you woke up with no idea what personality to expect that day, whether or not he was going to take all his personal drama out on you, even though you only ever loved and supported him. 

Today had been one of those days, and as you finished up with the F-18 engine currently in pieces in front of you, you silently prayed that he wouldn’t text you asking to come over. He was also a naval aviator, but you were working on different parts of the base today. Thank God. Elijah’s callsign was Viper, fitting since vipers prey on small animals by envenomating them and watching them die slowly. 

Coyote appeared behind you, helmet tucked underneath his arm.

‘Hey, we’re all heading to The Hard Deck for beers,’ he told you. ‘You comin’?’ You grabbed a rag and made an attempt to wipe some of the oil off. ‘I don’t know,’ you sighed. ‘I want to, but then I’ll have to bring Elijah, and I don’t really wanna see him tonight.’ ‘Why do you have to bring him?’ Coyote frowned. ‘He’s a lousy drunk and never lets you have any fun.’ ‘If he finds out I went out with all you guys, he’ll think I’m up to something.’ ‘Like gettin’ with me?’ He joked, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘Probably,’ you laughed. ‘You or one of the others. Or maybe he’ll accuse me of getting with all of you if he’s in a particularly bad mood.’ ‘Listen, if you wanna come, you’re welcome. We’ll just make sure nobody posts about it, and we’ll get you a fake moustache or somethin’.’

It broke your heart to think about all your closest friends having a fun night without you. Over the past year, you’d lost count of the amount of experiences you’d missed out on because you didn’t want to make Elijah upset or angry with you. The worst part was it was a double standard. He went out without you all the time, didn’t tell you where he’d gone or who he was with, and expected you to be okay with it. If you weren’t, you could kiss your peace goodbye; he’d spend the next week making your life a living hell, ignoring you entirely until you apologised to him for being hurt by his actions.

‘You know what Javy? Count me in.’ He grinned. ‘Thatta girl.’ 

It was hard to regret coming out when you felt this good. It had been months since you’d gone on a night out without Elijah, which was to say it had been months since you last enjoyed yourself. As you sipped your second sex on the beach, you mused that some kind of higher power must have been looking out for you because you’d yet to receive a single text from your boyfriend. Most of the time, when you spent the night apart, he’d call you incessantly. It was annoying, sometimes bordering on obsessive, and you didn’t need him to tell you he was checking on you, or rather, checking that you were alone in your apartment. That much was obvious. 

Dating an insecure man was not for the weak.

You were sat at one of the high tables next to the window watching Jake, Mickey, Javy, and Reuben play pool. Nat was opposite nursing a beer, glowing in the golden light of the evening. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, smiling at the notification. 

‘Rooster’s on his way,’ she told you. ‘He wasn’t gonna come out tonight, but I told him he didn’t have a choice. It’s not every day Y/N Y/L/N leaves the comfort of her apartment.’ You scoffed. ‘That’s not exactly how I’d put it.’ ‘No?’ Nat raised a brow. 

You hadn’t drunk in months, and despite only being on your second drink, the booze had loosened your lips significantly. 

‘No. It’s not that I’d rather stay home, it’s that staying home makes my life easier because then I don’t have Elijah breathing down my fucking neck.’

Little did you know, Javy had told everyone about your conversation earlier. Not because he was a gossip but because he was worried about you. It was rare for you to open up to the squad about your relationship, but it wasn’t hard to guess what happened behind closed doors. They all worked with Viper, for one, and they were familiar with his temperament. Not only that, but you dropped off the face of the Earth a few months after you started dating him, and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

‘I don’t know why you’re still with him, Y/N. He’s an ass.’ ‘I know,’ you sighed, frowning into your drink. ‘It’s just not as straightforward as just leaving. I still love him. If I can make this work, I don’t have to start all over again with someone else.’ Nat nodded in understanding. ‘I get wanting to make it work, but at what cost? You don’t see your friends, and he uses you as an emotional punching bag. You can’t even come to the beach with us without him checking on you every five minutes,’ she reached over the table and took your hand. ‘He’s killing you.’

This was the first time someone had spoken their mind to you about the situation. While you already knew all of it, hearing it from one of your best friends hit home. Vodka made you emotional, and if not for Bradley, you would have broken down there and then. 

He walked up to the table and engulfed you in a hug, practically pulling you off your stool. You pressed your face into his shirt, inhaling the scent of clean cotton and sandalwood. Half expecting Elijah to spring out and catch you in the act, you reluctantly pulled away. 

‘Hey, Bradley.’ ‘Hey yourself, stranger. Can’t believe you’re gracing us with your presence.’ ‘I know, it’s been a while.’ ‘A while? Try six months,’ he glanced at your almost empty glass and Nat’s empty bottle of Heineken. ‘Can I buy you lovely ladies a drink?’ ‘Do you even have to ask?’ Nat retorted.  ‘What’re you drinking, darlin’?’ He asked you. You smiled sheepishly. ‘Sex on the beach.’  ‘I can make that happen.’ He smirked.

Luckily, you didn’t have to come up with a response to that remark because he turned around and headed to the bar. You locked eyes with Nat, and both of you burst out laughing.

Just like that, all the negativity you’d been feeling dissipated like rain against hot tarmac. 

Bradley came back with the drinks, and the three of you took the opportunity to catch up while the others finished their pool game. You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were to find out that you’d missed a lot. Bradley had started dating one of the medics, but the relationship had crashed and burned almost immediately. He hadn’t bothered trying to meet anyone else since. Nat, after watching all her friends have such bad experiences in the dating world, had decided she was better off alone. 

‘Honestly, I don’t blame you.’ You told her. ‘You should dump Viper,’ she said with a devilish grin. ‘And we can have a hot girl summer.’ Bradley laughed. ‘Can’t say I ever imagined you saying that, Nix.’  ‘Isn’t that what it’s called now? We can’t be that out of touch, surely.’ ‘I don’t wanna think about how old I am.’ You said, picking up your phone to see if you’d missed any texts from Elijah. You hated to think what kind of argument missing one of his calls would start.  Nat and Rooster shared a knowing look. ‘It rings, you know? Out loud.’

Being this transparent was embarrassing. 

‘I think I’m going to confiscate this for now.’ Ignoring your protests, Bradley swiped your phone and tucked it into his pocket. ‘If he calls or texts, I’ll let you know.’

You were tipsy enough not to try and take your phone back but not tipsy enough to be unbothered by the idea of Elijah calling and you not picking up.

‘If he calls, I need it back straight away,’ you told him sternly. ‘If I don’t pick up, I’ll never hear the end of it.’

Bradley rolled his eyes, but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. He hated Elijah the most of all your friends. Perhaps sensing some tension, Nat slid off her stool and grabbed your arm, practically yanking you off yours.

‘Let’s go pick a song,’ she suggested. ‘We can get more drinks on the way back.’

Since it had been so long since you last visited The Hard Deck, she let you choose. You picked Rebel Yell by Billy Idol, your mum’s favourite. Admittedly, you’d been missing your home town a lot more than usual lately, perhaps because you were in such a weird place mentally. Things must be worse than you thought if you were considering running home with your tail between your legs. 

As the night went on, you got drunker and drunker. Bradley watched with a bemused grin as you dragged Bob off to the jukebox again, since he was the easiest person to coerce into doing things. How Bradley wished it was him you were clinging to. Not that he was jealous of Bob—because that would be like being jealous of a puppy—he just desperately wanted to be the object of your affection. 

While you and Bob went to change the music, Bradley struck up a conversation with Natasha and Reuben, who erupted into laughter when you pulled Bob’s arm so hard he almost toppled over. 

‘It’s nice to have Y/N out, huh?’ He observed. Nat looked at him like he was the biggest dickhead in the world. ‘Come on, Bradshaw. He might be an ass, but she’s got a boyfriend.’

Bradley sipped his beer, desperately trying to come up with a believable response. Reuben smirked knowingly, which only made Bradley more annoyed.

‘I don’t have a thing for Y/N.’ ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, man.’ ‘Come on, Payback. You too?’ Reuben shrugged. ‘Doesn’t take a genius to work it out. You look at her like she’s God’s gift.’

The reason Bradley looked at you like you were God’s gift is because you were, but nobody was supposed to know that. 

‘Why do women stay with guys that treat them like shit?’ Bradley asked. ‘Depends on the woman,’ Natasha started. ‘But if you mean Y/N, it’s because she can’t do anything halfway. She told me earlier that it’s because she doesn’t want to start over with someone new, but I don’t think that’s it. She just loves so hard, and it takes a lot out of her. Why would she wanna start the process all over again if she already has someone?’ Bradley was incredulous. ‘Erm, I don’t know, maybe because he’s emotionally abusing her.’

You and Nat were close. In a way, she knew you better than you knew yourself, so she was the best person for Bradley to ask about things. Now, however, he was kind of regretting opening his mouth. Knowing why you were staying with a guy who treated you so badly didn’t make it easier to accept like Bradley thought it would; it only filled him with white-hot rage. 

‘It’s not as easy as just leaving. She has to come to it on her own.’ ‘Yeah,’ Reuben chimed in. ‘You can’t convince Y/N of shit.’ Natasha scoffed. ‘Yup, and believe me, I’ve tried.’  ‘So what, we just sit around and watch him ruin her?’ ‘Y/N’s a smart cookie and one of the strongest people I know. She’ll come to her senses, and when she does, we’ll be here.’ ‘You know, I read somewhere once that you can’t save anyone. You can only hold their hand while they save themselves.’ Nat raised a brow. ‘Damn, Payback. That might be the wisest thing you’ve ever said.’ ‘Hey, why do you sound so surprised?’ ‘You really want me to answer that?’

Bradley had a lot to think about. Realistically, he knew there was nothing he could do. His only option was to let things unfold naturally and have faith that things would work out exactly the way they were supposed to. The only problem was, that sounded too much like ‘sit back and do nothing,’ which didn’t feel right either. 

Bradley needed another drink. 

In fact, he was just about to head to the bar when you came bounding over, dragging poor Bob behind you. 

‘Roooooooooster.’ You cooed.

His heart just about melted when you started batting your eyelashes at him. 

‘What’s up, Y/CS?’

Everyone else was watching the interaction expectantly, waiting to hear what you were going to say next. 

‘You’re really pretty.’ Bradley laughed, hoping you were too drunk to notice the blush he could feel creeping across his cheeks. ‘Thank you. You’re really pretty, too.’ Nat, sensing the need to intervene, came around and gently grabbed your arm. ‘Hey, let’s get you a glass of water, huh?’ ‘But I need to tell Roo how pretty he looks.’

Bradley’s heart fluttered at your use of the pet name. He really didn’t want you to leave, but Nat was right. You needed some water and probably your bed. 

‘You told him already, Y/N. And when you get back, you can tell him again.’

She started leading you away, and Bradley immediately missed your presence. 

A very flushed-looking Bob took Nat’s empty stool. ‘That girl is somethin’ else.’ He murmured, pushing his glasses back up his nose. ‘I don’t think you should let her drink anymore.’ ‘I’m not her keeper,’ Bradley responded. ‘Can’t stop her from doing anything.’ Bob shrugged. ‘Maybe so, but you’re all she talked about. You and the fact that there’s no Fall Out Boy in the jukebox. Pretty sure she called it a ‘fucking tragedy.’’  Bradley leaned forward. ‘What did she say about me?’ ‘You know,’ Bob waved a hand dismissively. ‘You’re pretty. Her boyfriend is gonna kill her if he finds out she’s here with you because he thinks you have a thing for her.’ Bradley was at a loss for words. Reuben, however, was grinning like a fool. ‘What was that about not having a thing for her? Even her boyfriend’s caught on, man.’  ‘How many times do I have to say I do not have a thing for-’

An annoyingly loud ringing sound interrupted Bradley’s sentence. It didn’t sound like his ringtone, but the noise was coming from his pocket. It took him too long to remember that he had your phone in his pocket, and that it was probably Viper calling. Sure enough, when he took out your phone, he was greeted by a sickeningly sweet photo of you and your boyfriend on the beach. You and Nat were still at the bar, and he knew he should just let it ring so you could call him back later. 

But something had a hold of Bradley, and he answered the call and pressed the phone to his ear before he could really process what he was doing. 

‘Y/N’s phone.’ 

A beat of silence, then some of the most colourful language Bradley had ever heard in his life. 

‘Who the fuck is this, and why the fuck have you got my girlfriend’s phone?’  ‘Y/N can’t come to the phone right now. She’s at the bar with her friend, gettin’ another round of drinks, and I just know hearing your voice would ruin her night. It’s ruined mine, that’s for sure. If you want, I can take a message, and she’ll get back to you in the morning.’

Reuben was nearly on the floor, trying desperately not to laugh in case Viper heard him. Bob had paled significantly, like he’d seen a ghost—or worse. 

‘That you, Bradshaw? I just knew something was going on-’

Bradley hung up. The severity of the situation was beginning to hit, and despite the sick satisfaction he’d felt when he picked up the phone, he was regretting his decision already. 

‘Y/N is gonna kill you, Rooster.’ Bob told him. 

Nat made the sensible decision to cut you off, but she said you could stay out with them until closing if you promised to keep drinking water and stop fucking around with the jukebox. That was how you ended up in the corner of a booth with Bradley next to you to stop you from escaping.

Not that you’d want to escape. 

Mickey had joined, and the guys were playing cards while you and Nat talked. She was catching you up on her life, and it made a change to think about someone other than Elijah for once.

That’s when it hit you.

You hadn’t checked your phone in hours, and you dreaded to think how many texts and calls you’d missed. 

‘Bradley, can I have my phone?’

He set his hand of cards down on the table and reached into his pocket. When you reached out to take it, he pulled away.

‘Before I give this to you, I need to tell you something.’

A wave of nausea hit you. 

‘What? What’s going on?’ ‘Viper called about an hour ago. You were at the bar, and I didn’t know what to do, so I answered it.’ Reuben leaned forward in his seat. ‘Oh, this is about to be good.’

You thought you knew what panic felt like, but up until this very moment, you had no idea. Bradley was lucky you didn’t throw up in his lap from the nerves.

‘What?’ ‘I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t thinking-’

You snatched your phone from him, ignoring the kicked-puppy expression he was sporting. A slew of angry text messages that were borderline abusive greeted you. You skimmed them quickly, not wanting to read too many in case you started crying in front of the entire squad. 

What started out as the best night you’d had in a while quickly turned into the worst. Your boyfriend's hateful messages reminded you why you never went out and why this was the biggest mistake you could have made.

The worst part was you saw it coming.

‘Move,’ you said, grabbing your bag. ‘Bradley, let me out now.’ ‘You can’t drive like this, Y/N. Let one of us take you home.’

Bradley sounded destroyed. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

‘Move.’

He nudged Bob, who stood up so Bradley could climb out of the booth. You were close behind him, and when your feet touched the floor, you nearly keeled over. Bradley reached out to steady you, but you shook him off.

‘Y/N. You can’t leave like this. How are you gonna get home?’

Ignoring his pleas, you made a beeline for the exit. Nat shoved Reuben into Mickey, trying to hurry them out of the booth so she could follow you, but you were surprisingly fast for a drunk person. Bradley was right about one thing: there was no way you could drive in this state. You ducked around the corner so Nat couldn’t see you and sank to the floor. Hot tears prickled behind your eyes as you did the one thing you didn’t want to do, but the only thing you could do.

You called Elijah. 

He didn’t answer the first, second, third, or fourth time. 

Half an hour passed, and you didn’t move. At one point, you heard Bradley, Nat, and Reuben talking around the corner, coming up with a plan for where to look for you. They knew you were on foot because your car was still in the lot, and since you’d disappeared so quickly, you couldn’t have gotten far. If the situation weren’t so tragic, it would’ve been funny that you were hiding ten paces away, and none of them could find you. 

It was getting very late. People were getting in their cars and leaving or jumping into Ubers. Soon, your Jeep would be the only car left. You couldn’t face the daggers, and you couldn’t drive home, so you picked yourself up and took a slow walk down the beach to where the water met the sand. 

What a beautiful night to have your heart broken. 

There was no way Elijah would ever forgive you for this, no way you’d ever be able to 

convince him that nothing had happened between you and Bradley. The sane part of you knew that it was crazy to feel guilty for simply enjoying a night out with your friends, but the sane part of you rarely won these days. The part of you that loved Elijah was always loudest and knew this could never have gone any other way. 

You were just about to resign yourself to calling a cab when you heard someone yelling your name from the top of the beach. 

You either had the best or worst luck in the world because it was Bradley. 

He made short work of the distance, giving you no time to come up with something to say. He looked otherworldly in the pale moonlight. His hair was slightly mused, and the same insane part of you that loved what it loved was whispering at you to run your fingers through it. 

‘We’ve been looking all over for you, Y/N.’ He sounded very concerned as he pulled out his phone and texted the others to let them know you were safe. ‘I’m sorry, I just needed to be alone.’

You hadn’t even realised you were shivering until Bradley draped his Levi jacket over your shoulders. 

‘You needed to be alone, or you needed to call Viper back?’ The tears threatened to make another appearance. ‘It’s none of your business.’ ‘What makes you think it’s not my business? I care about you and don’t want to keep watching you get hurt.’ ‘Then stop watching!’

Bradley recoiled, and you immediately felt awful. How Elijah spoke to you like that day in and day out without feeling guilty was a mystery to you. 

‘I’m sorry, Bradley,’ you sighed, pulling his jacket tighter around you. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just very drunk and very emotional right now.’

He softened immediately and seemed torn about whether he should let you stand there freezing or pull you close. You hoped he wouldn’t try to pull you close because you didn’t think you’d have the guts to tell him no. Good feelings had been so incredibly hard to come by as of late.

‘Why are you still with him, Y/N?’ Bradley asked almost pleadingly. 

Wow. He didn’t waste any time getting right to the point. 

‘That’s a loaded question.’ ‘I need you to explain it to me because it’s killing me.’

You thought about it for a moment, and Bradley waited with bated breath to hear what you had to say.

In the end, it was this: ‘I guess we accept the love we think we deserve.’ 

Until you said it out loud, this phrase held little meaning to you. Now that it was out in the open, it was very heavy. In the last few months you’d tried coming up with a decent explanation as to why you were staying with Elijah, and you fell short every time. Turns out all you needed to do was get drunk and have an honest conversation to figure it out. 

Coming to the realisation that what you’d just said was true felt like being in freefall. Everything in your life was changing shape to fit around this ugly truth. The good things in your heart shied away in the face of this monstrous fact. 

You didn’t think you deserved a healthy love. 

Somehow, Bradley was more hurt by this than when you’d snapped at him earlier. He was staring at the ground, unable to meet your eye like you’d just told him he wasn’t worthy of love.

‘You don’t think you deserve to be happy?’

Hearing him say it was somehow even worse.

‘Apparently not.’

You were both quiet for a moment, and then, for whatever reason, you laughed. 

‘This is news to me too.’

The waves crashed loudly, water lapping at your feet as the tide came in. You couldn’t stand out here having epiphanies all night. 

‘Listen, Rooster, I need to go home. I’m sorry for snapping.’ ‘I’ll take you home,’ he said quietly. ‘But we should talk tomorrow when you’re sober. Maybe we could get coffee.’ You shook your head. ‘After tonight, I don’t think that’s a smart idea. I’ll probably be spending tomorrow trying to salvage what’s left of my relationship.’ ‘You’re not serious.’ ‘I am.’

He opened his mouth to protest but then appeared to change his mind. You watched as all the fight he had left in him dissolved. There was nothing left for him to say, and he knew it. 

The irritating birds that constantly chirped right outside your bedroom window woke you up. It was too damn early, and your head felt as though it was splitting open. When you sat up, you were hit by a wave of nausea so strong that you had no other choice but to sprint to the bathroom, smashing into the corner of your chest of drawers on the way. 

Which was to say, it was a bad morning. 

After you had puked up the entire contents of your stomach, you jumped straight in the shower, brushed your teeth, and did your skincare. At least if Elijah showed up at your front door, you wouldn’t look like you got super drunk last night, even though he’d probably already guessed. 

When you checked your phone, there were still no notifications from him, and when you called, there was no answer. This wasn’t unlike him, but it had been almost twelve hours since Bradley picked up your phone, and you would have thought he’d have something to say by now. 

To distract yourself from your impending doom, you threw open all the windows in your apartment, made your bed, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher—all the usual morning tasks. It seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful Saturday, but you doubted you’d enjoy any of your hobbies when you were this anxious and hungover. 

With nothing else left to do, you set about making some breakfast. 

Just as you put your bagel in the toaster, somebody knocked on the door. 

Your stomach twisted itself into an impossibly tight knot. You were rooted to the spot, unable to move until whoever it was knocked a second time. 

You looked through the peephole, expecting to see Elijah standing there with his dark eyebrows knitted together in frustration. It was the only scenario that had crossed your mind, so when you saw Bradley standing there, you were very surprised. 

You took a deep breath and opened the door, greeted by the warm scent of sandalwood once again. 

‘Bradley?’

He was holding two iced lattes, which you were betting were vanilla—your favourite. Elijah hadn’t done that for you since the first week of your relationship.

‘Hey, Y/N. Thought you could use this.’

He wasn’t wrong. You ushered him inside, and he headed to the kitchen, where he 

perched himself on one of the stools at your kitchen island. This morning, he was sporting one of his more toned-down Hawaiian shirts and dark jeans. His eyelids drooped, and you wondered if he’d slept at all. 

‘I was just about to make bagels. Want one?’ ‘Sure, thank you.’

You busied yourself, putting bacon and eggs into a pan while he sipped his coffee, eyeing

you with the curiosity of someone who had come over to check you were all in one piece. Once he was satisfied that you were, he relaxed slightly. 

‘Thank you for bringing me home last night. I really appreciate it.’ You told him earnestly.  ‘You don’t need to thank me. You’d have done the same thing.’ ‘True, but still. And I’m sorry for snapping at you.’ 

Last night was gradually coming back to you in flashes, like a supercut. Each time you remembered a new detail, you cringed internally. 

‘You also don’t need to apologise. Has he called you?’ 

While the eggs and bacon were cooking, you toasted another bagel for Bradley and buttered yours. Even though you’d known him for years and been quite close until you got into a relationship, you were struggling to admit that you were pretty much being ghosted. It was already hard to walk around on base knowing that everybody was aware of how Elijah treated you. When you didn’t respond, Bradley took that as a no. 

‘Well, that’s his problem,’ he spat. ‘You did absolutely nothing wrong. Maybe if he were less of a control freak, you would have felt like you could tell him you were out with us rather than hiding it, and then he wouldn’t have found out the way he did.’

The toaster popped, and you jumped. It felt like somebody had run a cheese grater over your nerves. Bradley ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, clearly trying to reign in his anger.

‘I should apologise too,’ he continued. ‘I shouldn’t have answered your phone. It was a dick move, and I regretted it the instant I did it.’ 

You buttered the second bagel, put one egg on each of the bottom halves, and stacked two pieces of bacon on top before adding the top part. You didn’t say a word the entire time, and Bradley was starting to get antsy. 

‘Y/N. Please talk to me.’ ‘I don’t know what to say, Roo. I’m struggling even to think straight right now. He knows it drives me fucking crazy when he’s having a go at me and doesn’t respond. I don’t understand why he does it, knowing how it makes me feel.’ Bradley sighed. ‘Because he doesn’t give a shit how you feel. He doesn’t give a shit about anything other than himself and how he feels.’ 

This wasn’t news to you, but again, it was more impactful to hear someone else say it out loud. Really, how long could you keep this up? Whether you thought you deserved it or not, you were starting to wonder if you might be better off alone than with someone who made living feel like walking next to a cliff with your eyes closed. 

You pushed Bradley’s plate across the counter and picked up your bagel. Eating felt impossible, but getting through the day with this headache would be excruciating if you didn’t at least try. 

‘Come and sit down,’ Bradley said. ‘It’s not good to eat standing up.’ Despite everything, you managed to laugh. And this time, it was a real laugh. ‘Why?’ A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘I don’t know. My mum used to say it all the time.’

You did as you were told, and you walked around the island, taking the seat next to him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, periodically taking sips of your coffees. This was how easy it should have been with Elijah. 

When you were both finished, Bradley put your plates, pan, and utensils into the dishwasher. You were too tired to tell him to stop. 

‘Thanks for breakfast.’  You smiled. ‘Thanks for being you.’

Bradley’s smile mirrored your own. Unsaid words hung in the air, but you didn’t know what to say. His leaving didn’t feel right, but if he stayed and Elijah made an appearance, he’d most definitely break up with you. 

But wasn’t this radio silence all the confirmation you needed that things were pretty much over, anyway? You were starting to wonder if this weekend had all happened exactly the way it was supposed to. Your eyes were indeed open, that was for sure. Of course, you’d known that the relationship wasn’t healthy, but this weekend had really driven the point home. 

‘Do you wanna go for a walk along the beach?’ You asked, hopefully. ‘We could grab some ice cream at that little place next to the arcade.’

Bradley didn’t just look happy. He also looked relieved that you weren’t asking him to leave. 

‘I’d love to.’

It was a beautiful Spring day, perfect walking weather. Honestly, it was the last thing Bradley expected you to suggest, so he jumped on the idea before you could change your mind and send him home.

Because he really didn’t want to go home. 

He’d sensed that you didn’t want to talk about Viper, and you’d yet to bring up your conversation on the beach last night. Bradley was beginning to doubt that you even remembered everything you said—all that nonsense about not deserving a healthy love. Bradley didn’t take you as a liar, which meant you believed that you weren’t deserving of happiness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite so sad and also angry at the same time. So many emotions were warring for the top spot in his heart, and as a result, his brain was incredibly foggy.

A walk along the beach with you was perhaps the only cure.

‘Did you hear about Hangman?’ Bradley assumed you hadn’t. ‘No?’ ‘He’s getting deployed. He’s leaving next month.’ ‘How long is he going for?’ ‘Six months.’ You whistled lowly. ‘Damn.’ ‘I know. I think he’s looking forward to it, though. I sure am.’ ‘You know, I don’t think you hate him half as much as you say.’ Bradley chuckled. ‘Maybe not, but being nice to him wouldn’t feel right. Even after everything that happened on the mission.’ 

The two of you walked down the beach, chit-chatting about anything that came to mind. You were about halfway to the ice cream place when your phone pinged. Bradley guessed it would be Viper, but he never could have guessed what the message said. 

It was a photo of you and Bradley walking down the beach, taken from behind. The picture had been forwarded to you from someone else. 

E<3: always knew you were a slut.

You inhaled sharply, obviously hurt by the words on the screen. Not two seconds later, he sent another text. 

E<3: PS: we’re fucking over.

The two of you had stopped walking. Bradley watched over your shoulder as you furiously typed a reply and deleted it again. You turned to face him, and his heart just about broke when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t need to say a word. He pulled you close to him, wrapping you tightly in his arms. You stayed that way for a while, sobbing into his Hawaiian shirt as he rubbed your back soothingly. When you eventually pulled away, the first thing you did was apologise. 

‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, sweet girl. He’s the one who should be sorry.’ You sniffled. ‘I don’t know what to reply.’ ‘Leave it for now,’ he said. ‘We can go get ice cream, take a slow walk back to yours. Then I’ll help you think of something.’ ‘I don’t know if I feel like ice cream anymore.’ ‘Well, that’s too bad because I do. Ice cream is the best remedy for heartbreak.’ ‘Did your mum tell you that too?’ ‘She sure did.’ 

It turns out Bradley was right about ice cream being the best remedy for heartbreak. The two of you sat on the wall, watching the waves while he munched on a mint chocolate chip cone and you butterscotch. It was hard to tell whether it was the best ice cream you’d ever had or if it was because you were with Bradley. If you remembered correctly, you’d had ice cream from this same place with Elijah before, and it hadn’t been this nice.

Thinking back on your memories with him only made you want to cry, so you did your best to shove them to the back of your mind. Despite the fact that he was actually a very shitty person, he’d been a dream at the beginning, and that didn’t just go away. The happy moments didn’t just suddenly turn to ash, as much as you wished they would. 

‘What are your plans for the rest of the night?’ Bradley asked around his ice cream cone. ‘I don’t know, Roo. I’m kinda working on a minute-to-minute basis right now.’ Bradley nodded. ‘Okay, well, what would you say to junk food run and a movie night?’ ‘With you?  ‘If you want to. I just don’t think it’s good for you to be alone.’ ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit me.’ ‘Is that what you think this is?’ ‘No, but I don’t want to be a burden. Or a charity case.’ ‘Y/N, you’re none of those things. I always want to spend time with you. Just so happens I have a good excuse today.’ You frowned into your ice cream. ‘Okay. As long as you’re sure.’ 

The two of you finished your ice cream and took a slow walk back to your apartment. When you got in, the first thing you noticed was a framed photograph of you and your now ex-boyfriend on the side table in the hallway. When your bottom lip started trembling, Bradley picked up the photo, put it face down, and then proceeded to run around your apartment and take down any others. It didn’t feel like the same place you’d left a few hours ago. It was haunted by memories that would never look right in the light of day. Even the happiest ones from the start were tainted with the ugliness of his cruel words and actions. 

‘This place is so depressing.’ You grumbled.

Bradley stood in front of you with a stack of photos and one of Elijah’s t-shirts. 

‘It’s not. It’s your home, Y/N. We just have to pack away his stuff and put it all in a box.’ ‘An ex-boyfriend box.’ Bradley smiled sadly. ‘Yeah, exactly. It might be over, and he might be a dick, but it was still a big part of your life, and it’s important to keep the memories safe in case you wanna look back on them someday.’ ‘Or in case I wanna burn them.’ ‘That too.’ Bradley chuckled

So you helped him gather all the mementoes from your relationship and put them in an old Dr Martens box. It all looked pretty pathetic, packed away in a shoebox.

‘I found one of his hoodies and a few other things.’ You called from your bedroom. ‘Can you grab me a bin bag from the top of the fridge?’

You heard shuffling, and then Bradley was standing in the doorway holding out the bag you requested. 

‘Damn, he doesn’t even get one of the nice Trader Joe's bags?’ ‘No,’ you giggled. ‘He gets a trash bag because his stuff is trash, and he’s trash.’

You weren’t really at the stage where you believed that just yet, but saying it was really satisfying, and it felt good to laugh. Fake it till you make it or whatever. 

‘Want me to give it to him tomorrow?’ ‘Thanks, but I should really be the one to do it. I haven’t even texted him back.’ You thought about it for a moment and then continued. ‘Would it be cheeky of me to ask if you’ll come with me? Maybe Nat, too? I could use some moral support, and he’s less likely to make a scene if the two of you are there.’ ‘Of course I’ll be there. I won’t say anything unless you need me to or unless he starts. I can’t make that same promise for Nix, though.’ ‘I haven’t even told Nat yet,’ you sighed. ‘I don’t think I wanna talk about it right this second.’ ‘I’ll text her. Don’t worry about it.’

From your spot on the floor, you looked up at Bradley. The evening sunlight was streaming in through the windows, casting an ethereal glow around him. 

‘You should change your callsign to angel.’ A look of pleasant surprise flickered across his handsome features. ‘Why?’ ‘Because you’re literally my angel, Roo. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

Half an hour later, Bradley convinced you to go on a junk food run with him in the Bronco. He said tonight was a mandatory, post-breakup wallowing sesh because if you bottled up your feelings now, you’d explode later at a much more inconvenient time. 

The two of you had been screaming along to all the classic breakup songs: All Too Well by Taylor Swift (yes, he knew all the words), Who Knew by Pink, What About Now by Daughtry… He’d driven the long way to the store because you got so into it. 

Now, as you scanned the shelves in Target, you asked: ‘What is it about screaming sad songs that makes you feel better?’ ‘It’s cathartic,’ Bradley explained. ‘Helps you relieve the strong feelings.’ ‘You know a lot about heartbreak.’ ‘Well, I’ve had my fair share of sadness.’ You froze. ‘That was insensitive of me, I’m sorry.’ Bradley took the packed of Reeses Pieces from your hands so he could hold them. ‘Can you make me a promise?’ ‘What?’ You asked sceptically. ‘Promise you’re gonna stop apologising to me all the time. You have nothing to be sorry for.’ ‘Sorry.’ You smiled sheepishly.  He shook his head. ‘That’s not what you’re supposed to say.’ ‘Okay, fine,’ you huffed. ‘I promise to stop apologising all the time.’ ‘Thank you,’ Bradley said, releasing your hands reluctantly. ‘Now, pick out five more things.’ ‘Five? There’s already five things in the basket.’ ‘Did I ask?’ ‘I’m gonna get fat.’ ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. Wallowing means junk food, and I don’t know if you’re looking at the same basket I am, but that’s not enough junk food.’ ‘Christ Almighty, okay.’ 

He helped you pick out five more things, and then you headed to check out.

‘What movies are good for wallowing?’ You asked. ‘Well, we have to start with a couple of sad ones and then finish with a happy one.’

The cashier told you your total, and Bradley tapped his card before you could even get yours out. You gave him a withering look.

‘I would’ve paid for that. You paid for the ice cream.’ ‘So?’ ‘So we should take it in turns.’

Obviously, he carried the bags as well, and as you walked back to the Bronco, he couldn’t help but wonder if Viper made you take it in turns. If you were his girl, you’d never have to tap your card.

‘What’s your favourite sad movie?’ He inquired.  You opened the trunk for him so he could put the bags in. ‘Technically, it’s not a sad movie. But there’s this part in Inside Out…Wait, have you watched it before? I don’t wanna spoil it for you.’ ‘The part where Bing Bong gets forgotten?’ You gasped. ‘How did you know?’ ‘Because it gets me every single time.’

The way you looked at him in that moment, like he had hung the moon in the sky—God, it was too much. 

‘We’ll start with Inside Out,’ he told you, opening the passenger door so you could climb in. ‘And then we’ll think of something else.’

Without giving much thought to what he was doing, Bradley found himself buckling your seatbelt for you. You were holding your breath, and it dawned on him how easy it would be to kiss you if he were that sort of guy.

And as much as he wanted to kiss you, he was not that sort of guy. He wasn’t about to take advantage of the fact that some asshole had just taken a sledgehammer to your very beautiful heart. 

‘Can we watch Bridge To Terabithia?’ You whispered.

Bradley hadn’t moved, and you were so close that he could feel your warm breath on his cheek. 

‘Are you trying to break my heart, Y/N?’ ‘Yes. I want you to feel my pain.’ 

He was grinning the whole way around the car to the driver’s side and still grinning when he got in the car. You already had his phone in your hand, searching for more sad songs so you could continue your car concert on the way back to your apartment. He drove the long way again so the two of you could finish your rendition of ‘I Don’t Love You’ by My Chemical Romance, which Bradley didn’t know the words to. He tried his best, though, because you seemed to love it, and he couldn’t deny you anything. 

By the time you got home, the sun had almost entirely set. While he set the snacks out on the coffee table, you went around lighting candles and switching on fairy lights. He’d never seen your apartment in the dark, and it was incredibly cosy. Even though it was relatively warm, you dragged all your blankets and pillows from your bed and made a little nest on the sofa. You were so adorable, it was hard to believe that someone could treat you badly. 

If you were his girl, every night would look like this—except you’d be a lot happier, and there would be no tears. 

Halfway through Bridge To Terebitha, you fell asleep. Bradley had been trying to keep his distance despite wanting to wrap you up in his arms, yet somehow—in your sleep—you’d ended up with your legs in his lap. He’d frozen at first, but once he realised you were dead to the world, he allowed himself to rest his hands on your knees. Really, it was that or sit with his arms crossed, and that would be silly. 

For the duration of the movie, his attention flickered between you and the TV. Every time he tried paying attention to what was happening, his eyes wandered back to your peaceful face. He marvelled at your astounding beauty, the delicate way your eyelashes rested against the tops of your rosy cheeks. Bradley had always admired you, and you’d been good friends for years, but what he felt in that moment was something else entirely. By the time the end credits started rolling, he knew without a doubt that he’d set whole cities ablaze to keep you warm. Feelings as rapidly growing as his should have been terrifying, but Bradley wasn’t scared. Falling in love with you seemed to be as easy as wading out into a calm ocean on a warm summer’s day. 

He knew you’d yet to learn that falling in love and staying in love should always be this easy. He knew it was going to take some time to convince you that you deserved healthy love, that the right person would never run away from you and keep turning around to make sure you were chasing them. 

But Bradley was a patient man, and he would wait as long as he had to.

End of part one.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Living Up To The ‘Legacy’ ✈️ Epilogue | Top Gun Maverick Series

Takes place following the events of TGM

Read the series here -> Series Masterlist | TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Barbara ‘Legacy’ Mitchell (romance), Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x daughter!OC (platonic), Lt. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin (platonic), Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floy (platonic), Lt. Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace (platonic), pretty much the rest of the characters are platonic.

Content Warnings: MAJOR Fluff, profanity, light angst (one scene) but literally fluff all the way. Suggestive content, innuendoes. | Female OC (she/her) | wc: 10.1k

Premise: It’s been a long road since the Uranium mission, but a celebration is in order as Bradley Bradshaw and Barbara Mitchell come together to tie the knot for the second and last time ever, to finally start their future with friends and loved ones by their side.

Note: OMG I CANT BELIEVE THIS IS THE ACTUAL END!!! Lowkey crying right now 🥹 thank you all so so much who have been there since the beginning of this series and have liked, commented, reblogged, sent me messages of kind words and given me all the support. Thank you for waiting patiently as updates come (I know I’ve slacked on some of my other works because I had so much inspiration for this but I’m gonna be getting back to them!) Thank you to all who have followed me and checked out my other works, I’m gonna miss writing for Barbara and Bradley, but who knows what may come in the future. Right now, I will leave their future to your imagination ♥️ I hope you loved this as much as I did and see you in my next work!!

Barbara’s bachelorette party outfit, wedding dress, shoes, ring, veil

“Hey there, sailor.” The beer Rooster was lifting to his mouth stopped short. Turning his head, he was greeted with a pretty blue-eyed redhead smiling at him. There was determination in her eyes, something he often saw when women flirted with him. Not to mention she was leaning awfully close against the bar top.

Dressed in his khaki’s, Rooster flickered his eyes down to where his officer ranks were catching the light. Most civilians would not understand the difference, therefore he wasn’t gonna hold it against her. “Not enlisted, ma’am. The sailors you're looking for look like that,” his finger pointed to a group of enlisted men and women over by the darts table.

“Oh,” she laughed, like she found the joke to be funny. “Even better then. I don’t see many officers coming to this bar.”

‘She must not be a local then,’ Rooster thought silently, keeping his eyes ahead on the crowd in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. “Well there’s more than you think. Look for bars on the collar, and you’ll find one.”

The redhead, who he didn’t really care much to know the name of, stepped closer—her perfume wafting in Rooster's face. “Maybe I don’t need to look any further when I have you right here. What’s a lady got to do to get a drink from a naval officer?”

By now Bradley set his drink down, willing himself not to grin when his eyes connected with a certain someone looking thoroughly amused by the scene she was witnessing. The redhead caught his smile, thinking she had cracked him and gave a silent victory to herself.

Without looking at the redhead he goes, “What’s your name?”

“Krista,” she said as flirty as she could muster, a smirk forming on her lips that she may be successful in taking Rooster home. “What’s yours?”

“That’s not important right now,” he tilts his head and points a finger toward the crowd. “You see that woman dancing over there, Krista? With the gorgeous white outfit?”

Smirk now falling to a confused frown, Krista’s eyes follow Rooster’s gaze where they land on a dark haired woman in white dancing alongside another woman. Black hair fell just below her chin and her tanned body was adorned in a gorgeous white two piece set. The pants flared a bit at the end showcasing white heels with the iconic red bottoms and the top was almost bustier like—giving her assets a nice push. Krista could make out the distinct abs along with some tattoos peaking on her sides. The woman’s body was moving effortlessly to Timbaland’s ‘The Way I Are,’ and at one point began backing it up on the woman who was holding a beer bottle up in the air. When she did this, her head turned at just the right time to connect eyes with Krista, biting her lip as she smirked.

“I see her,” Krista mumbled, slowly putting the pieces together. From her peripheral she could see Rooster grinning, especially when the woman sent him a wink all while dancing on her friend. “Who is she to you?”

“That’s my fiancé, Barbara—who I am wifing up tomorrow,” Rooster finally turned to Krista, giving a shrug at her upset look. But he didn’t feel sympathy. There were plenty of single men in the bar she could find. “She’s the only I’m buying drinks for and gets to take me home tonight.”

They were getting married. Tomorrow. No wonder she was wearing white.

“O-oh.” Embarrassed and a little humiliated after noticing the bartender, Penny, was trying to hold back her laugh—obviously aware the man she was flirting with was off the market—Krista backs away. Her eyes find Barbara’s, finding the diamond ring on her left finger when she brings her hands up her body and over her head. It was catching the light and sparkling for everyone to see.

Face red and wanting to get as far away from the counter as possible, Krista spits out an apology before scurrying away back to her friends. They immediately bombarded her with questions like, ‘what the hell happened?’ ‘Did he seriously reject you?’ ‘Girl, there’s so many other hot guys here—don’t let it get to you.’ ‘I saw him point at that woman—who was she—his girlfriend?’

Rooster just shakes his head with a light laugh, going back to sipping his beer as he watches Barbara dance with Phoenix, Halo, and some of the partners of their colleagues. Penny comes over with another bottle when she sees his was almost empty, “Well, that was entertaining as always. What’s that, the third tonight?”

Rooster thanks her for the beer, downing the last bit of contents of the one in his hand. “Yup, how many has she had?” At that moment he notices another guy, a civilian, approaching his fiancé. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but like Rooster, Barbara doesn't even make eye contact with the dude until he says the magic words.

“That dude makes number four since she got on the dance floor,” Penny says, behind her Barbara is pointing to Rooster—who lifts his beer in cheers at the dude who now has the same expression as Krista did. “If you count the other two before you got here then it’s six. Most of them have already left.”

Rooster chuckles as he thinks, ‘not surprised.’ The years they were dating and first married, the two would always enjoy going to the bars with their friends and being on opposite sides just to watch the other reject patrons who tried to pick them up. It started off as something funny and broadened to almost a monthly ritual. Bradley would chill at the bar or pool tables with their friends while Barbara danced with Nat or whoever wanted to join her. It never failed, they always had at least one or two people approach.

Neither felt jealousy for they trusted the other and would never openly entertain the person flirting with them. They’d give the guy or girl a minute or two to say what they wanted, then they would point out each other to them and say things like, “That’s my man/woman and I plan to wake up to his/her face tomorrow morning. So try someone else, pal/ma’am.” Sometimes Barbara would take it further by saying something sexual to make the person uncomfortable. It always worked.

Speaking of, Barbara must’ve said something to fluster the poor guy because he was now red faced and nodding. Rooster could faintly make out the words, “My bad,” leave his lips before his back was turned to him as he stalked off. His fiancé appeared pleased, smirking and turning to face Phoenix who was covering her laugh with a hand.

‘What did you say?’ Rooster read her lips. Since he couldn’t see Barbara’s face, he was unable to read her own, but judging by the wide eyes of Nat who then threw her head back in laughter, it must’ve been good. Nat even went as far as to lightly slap Barb’s shoulder in mock disapproval.

Taking his beer, Rooster said to Penny, “I’ll be over there if she asks for me.” Penny nods, wiping down the surface as he stands from his stool and heads over to the pool tables where the guys were—minus Fanboy since he was dancing with a pretty brunette near the girls.

“The man of the hour!” Hangman shouts, arms out wide as the rest of the guys cheer. It catches Fanboy’s attention, he quickly kisses the cheek of the lady he was dancing with and speeds over to the group. If she was upset she didn’t show it, because next thing she knew she was being pulled by Barbara to join their circle.

Payback patted Rooster’s back, “Excited for tomorrow, Bradshaw?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Jake snorts, “He hasn’t shut up about it all month!” Pink coats the top of Rooster’s ears, moving to sit on the chair beside Bob. “Anyone who has met him in the last two weeks would know in the first five minutes of conversation that he’s engaged.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad thing,” Mickey defends, taking a beer bottle from Coyote. He clicks it it’s Roosters.

“No, of course not,” Jake agrees. “I’m just saying It’s gotten to the point where it feels like I’m the one marrying Barbara because she’s the only topic of his everyday vernacular.”

Everyone laughs and there’s even some murmurs of agreement. Rooster just shakes his head, “Seresin, you wish you could hitch up someone like Barbara. Don’t lie.” He’ll never forget the first time Hangman met her, unaware she was married and tried to enact his playboy charm. The event left Jake with the reminder that if he saw the ring on a woman’s finger, to not even attempt it if he wanted to keep his self-esteem.

“She scares me too much,” Jake says with a serious tone, causing the guys to laugh again. A conversation soon flowed with many discussions about the following day’s events. So far everyone they had invited was going to be in attendance, including the Admirals, the Kazansky family, Penny & Amelia, and some of their friends from previous assignments. The whole detachment would be there, as would Barb’s mother, Charlie. She had landed in San Diego around noon and had gone to dinner with Sarah while Barb and Rooster had their conjoined Bachelor/Bachelorette parties at The Hard Deck.

The ceremony would take place just outside the bar on the beach. Penny, Charlie, Sarah, and most of the bridal party were going to arrive early in the morning to set everything up. After the ceremony they would come into the bar for the after party. There was already a sign outside the establishment stating they were not going to be open to the public in the evening due to a private event.

The last couple months had been chaotic for everyone in Fightertown. After the Uranium mission, Barbara had to deal with the aftermath of her actions. Although Maverick, Rooster, and the team had been praised and rewarded for their actions, none could do much regarding her pending court martial. Cyclone was adamant about going through. Not even Warlock could change his mind despite his best efforts.

The day of the hearing, Barbara was dressed in her Dress Whites, nervously tumbling with her fingers while Rooster paced in front of her. Maverick was seated on the bench next to her, hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Charlie wanted to be there for the trial, but the Pentagon had her on an assignment making her unable to attend. The two spoke everyday with Barbara giving updates on what she could since she was bound to confidentially until after the verdict.

Besides Cyclone, Warlock and some of the ground crew on base, Rooster and Maverick were asked to present statements to the board. Hondo and Phoenix were also summoned, surprising the younger Mitchell since she wasn’t expecting any of the team members to have to give evidence.

Barbara was put on the stand for a good day. When grilled by the opposing counsel, she remained calm and stoic to not let emotions get to her. She spoke honestly, never denying her actions. There was no way she would commit perjury on the stand and risk further consequences. When explaining the steps she took to steal the F-18 and why she did it, Barbara kept her gaze on the jury. She choked up at one point, but overall remained collected as to not appear to be over emotional or play victim.

She did wrong, she was going to own it.

Maverick brought her out of her thoughts when the clock reached another hour of deliberation, “Honey, whatever they decide, just know I’m always going to be here for you. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished. No matter what happens today, you’re still the best of the best and have done the Navy a great service.”

“Thank you, dad,” she smiled softly, leaning against him when he maneuvered her arm around her shoulder. The words filled Barb with warmth, gratitude at the fact her father would support her no matter what. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, muttering “of course.”

Later that afternoon, the jury had reached a decision. Rooster and Maverick were unable to be in the courtroom. Both embraced Barbara with a hug—Rooster giving her a sweet kiss telling her it was going to be okay—and she followed behind her attorney, the doors closing behind her. When called to attention, Barbara kept her eyes forward, standing as still as she possibly could and mentally preparing herself to not physically react to whatever the judge would read.

The paper was handed to him after confirming with the jury foreman they had reached a unanimous decision. Her heart pounded, the woman breathing through her nose deeply as he spoke, “Lt. Barbara Mitchell, there is no denying your actions were reckless, dangerous, and could have very well have cost the Navy millions in damages and lawsuits if you the outcome was different then the one it was. Any other scenario and you would be discharged from service effective immediately…however,” Barbara felt the air catch in her throat, squeezing her fists tighter.

“After hearing from members of your detachment, had it not been for you and your father’s actions, the mission on the Uranium enrichment plant that remarkably had no fatalities, probably would have been a different story if Admiral Simpson had gone through with the changing of parameters.” In the corner of her eyes, Barbara caught Cyclone’s head falling. He was seated by the opposing counsel since he had been the one to bring forth charges.

“With that being said, the court has spoken. You will be placed on suspension from flying for a time period of half a year; you will be demoted from your rank of Lieutenant back to Lieutenant Junior Grade; and you will pay a fine of a pending supplement to be determined at a later date. Until further notice you are to remain at Fightertown where you will be an assistant instructor to incoming cadets at Top Gun,” the navy judge looks up to give the woman a pointed glance, “best way to keep an eye on ya. My advice would be to please not cut the already half broken string you’re hanging onto. After this there will be no hearing or trial, you will just be discharged.”

“Yes sir,” Barbara immediately says, exhaling with immense relief. “Thank you, sir, and to the court.” After final remarks from both counsels, the judge and jury exits before Barbara is dismissed. She about faces, letting her shoulders drop and moving to shake the hand of her attorney, “Thank you so much for all you’ve done. I owe you.” When she turns to make way to the doors, Barb catches Cyclone's eyes. He looks somewhat defeated, but overall like he expected the outcome. All he does is nod to her, a silent gesture she understood was his way of saying ‘you got lucky this time, Mitchell.’

Fuck yeah she did.

Yeah she was going to be paying a lot of money for the next few years, couldn’t fly until the summer, and lost the rank she had just been promoted to, but at least she was still a naval aviator. At least she was still going to have her job.

In the meantime Barbara was going to have to be a teacher. Mentally she thought, ‘are they sure that’s a good idea? Having me teach at the place that was the reason I was in court in the first place? They’ll regret it.’

Shaking off the thoughts, Barbara hurried out of the room and was met with her father and fiancé practically jumping from the bench. They had seen Cyclone’s face when he exited and it was evident in the looks they were giving her. Rooster was the first to approach her, walking her over to a corner out of prying ears with Maverick hot on their heels.

She waited until they were fully stopped, turning in his arms to face both of them. “Before you start running your mouths, you can both breathe a sigh of relief. I’m not getting kicked out.” Both visibly reacted, Mav going as far as to bend over to put his hands on his knees, “Thank God.”

Rooster embraced Barb, not caring they were in uniform and said the same, “That’s great to hear, baby.”

“Yeah, but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows,” she pulled away so she could relay the rest. Both the men understood. While they were sad for her and thought some of it was a little harsh, getting demoted and paying a fine was better than having a dishonorable discharge. “I wanna do something for Phoenix and Hondo. I think their testimony was what really broke Cyclone’s case, especially after you showed them how essential it was to have the parameters you set, dad.”

“Of course,” Mav agreed and Rooster nodded, “We’ll plan something for them.” When Barb voiced her gratitude to them, they both waved her off saying they would do it again in a heartbeat. The three went to a restaurant to celebrate before meeting up with the others to break the news, with Hangman buying a round as the cheers sounded. After calling it a night Rooster and Barbara hurried away—to their now shared home—to celebrate in their own way.

Planning for the wedding was the next step after Barbara adjusted to her new position at Top Gun. She couldn’t fly just yet and instead was tasked with teaching the lectures. Rooster always looked forward to her coming home after work because she would rant to him about the latest recruit who got on her nerves. There was always someone who would interrupt, act cocky, or go on their own. “Remind you of someone?” He would say, to which he received a glare. Several people could fit the description: Hangman for sure, Maverick at any point in his career, and even Barbara herself.

It was decided the wedding would be an intimate event with only about 30 or so people. There was the detachment (12), Barb’s parents (2), the Kazanskys (3-5), Cyclone, Warlock, Hondo and their wives, Penny, Amelia, and four other close friends from previous duty stations. They did not want to have it in the summer because of how hot it would be and instead voted for mid-spring. Penny offered to host the reception/after party at The Hard Deck after Barbara confessed she did not want a church wedding and thought the beach was perfect. And when Barbara pulled out her checkbook asking Penny to name her price, the older woman snatched it saying, “No, this is my gift to you two. There is no charge.”

Phoenix, the matron of honor, went with Barb to pick out her dress—at the last minute too because they were so busy with work it slipped their mind. The first time Barb and Rooster married it was at the courthouse and she literally wore a baby blue sundress with Rooster sporting his usual Hawaiian shirt. “There’s no way I’m trying on more than five dresses, Phee,” Barbara warned, running a hand over the white fabric of a pretty lace number. “I just want something simple. It’s a beach wedding so nothing heavy and a pain to get on and off.”

“Something like this then?” Nat removed a pure silk dress with spaghetti straps and an open back. It flowed down to the floor and was mermaid style meaning it would fit tight when on. It was gorgeous. Simple yet stunning.

“Exactly like that,” Barb breathed in awe, hands going to feel the material. It was so soft—literally like her silk pillow cases. “It’s perfect.” With the dress in hand, Barbara and Nat accessorized, grabbing a veil that had pearls embedded all over it, Christian Louboutin shoes—which were for the after party since there was no way and hell she would wear them on a sandy beach—pearl hair pins, and finishing it with white rimmed sunglasses.

The perfect ending touch.

Now here they were the night before Barbara was set to remarry the love of her life. She and Rooster agreed on having a somewhat conjoined bachelor/bachelorette get together at The Hard Deck. It was Friday night and one of the rare times the Dagger Squad was reunited after the Uranium mission. Several had returned to their squadrons or were transferred to new ones upon promotion. Rooster made it his mission to remain in Fightertown and thankfully his request was granted. He didn’t waste any time, moving into Barbara’s house just days later with the help of Maverick and the guys.

It was a great night at The Hard Deck with the place buzzing with excitement. The guys were shooting pool, playing darts, drinking and chatting when a certain Mitchell finally made her way over to the aviator she had yet to say hi to. Rooster was already grinning when she came around the corner, hands going to his knees as she stopped in front of him, “Hey, pretty boy.”

“Hey, baby girl.” Barbara licked her bottom lip that was coated in red lipstick, Rooster’s eyes catching the movement causing arousal to fill him. He loved when she did that. “Having fun?”

“Oh absolutely,” she slightly bent her body so they were eye level, hands still on his knees that were touching her own. The heels she was wearing made her taller and with her position Rooster got a great view of her cleavage. “The music’s blasting, the night is young. My sexy fiancé has his eyes on me. I’m having a lot of fun.” The glint in her eyes paired with a matching smirk makes his pants go tight. Rooster tries not to react, especially with the heat of her hands on his knees.

“You’ve got quite the admirers, Barbara Mitchell,” he teases, placing the beer on the empty chair beside him. Bob had got up to play a round of pool with Fanboy and Hangman was currently flirting at the bar. Everyone else had either gone to dance or stand to the side to continue their conversations.

“As do you, Bradley Bradshaw,” Barbara gently spread her legs, moving to straddle the man—not giving a fuck he was in uniform and they were in public. Rooster's arms immediately went around her exposed waist, hands resting just above her ass. Her skin was warm under his palm. Barbara clicked her tongue, “Wanna enlighten me on why I got a pretty redhead over at the booths and a blondie by the jukebox sending daggers at me?”

Rooster’s eyes never left hers, though he could make out in the distance the blonde—who’s name he already forgot—by the jukebox with her attention on them. “Probably the same reason why the guy in a Padres cap looks like he wishes I didn’t exist,” he chuckled. The moment Barbara had walked over to him he was already scouting out the reactions of all the people who had tried to hit on them. They all had the same face: disappointment, envy, and bitterness.

“I may have been a little harsh on the jab when he failed to back off. Told him I’d get that bell rung—he wasn’t happy about that.”

Rooster looked proud at that, “I’d expect nothing less from you.” His hands rubbed her sides where her skin was exposed, brushing over the ink of her tattoos. “I’m curious to know what you told that last guy that approached you. He looked horrified when he walked away.” A mischievous smirk appeared on her lips making Rooster tilt his head, “What did you say?”

She quickly changed her expression to one of innocence, “I just told him the same as the others. I pointed you out to him, said, ‘This time tomorrow that man is gonna be my husband,’ Barbara then leaned in so her lips were by Rooster’s ears, voice going low. “And I may have added that you’re the only one who gets to take me home with the promise of coming inside me tonight.”

A sharp breath nearly had Rooster choking, hands now gripping his fiancé. “Fucking hell, Barbara,” Rooster groaned, willing himself not to show his reaction when he spotted Mav entering the Hard Deck. Thankfully the man couldn’t see him from where they were sitting and he beelined to Penny. But still, Rooster didn’t want his soon to be father-in-law for the second time to catch he was five seconds from hauling Barbara into the bathroom to fuck her now that he was sporting a hard on that was making his mind fuzzy. It didn’t help she was pressing light kisses on his neck, gently biting his earlobe as she giggled.

She obviously felt his reaction to her words. She was relishing the fact she riled him up which only made him pull her away from his neck. Rooster gave her hips another warning squeeze, “Tread carefully, baby girl,” he said with a pointed look. “We wouldn’t want to spoil the party by leaving early do we?”

“Would that really be a bad idea?” She challenged, making him groan when she—not so innocently—moved her hips just a tad, her groin brushing over his own. “The way you were looking at me as I dance made me think I’d be in the Bronco by now.”

“As much as I would love to throw you over my shoulder and take you home right this second, I do not want to have to explain to your father why we’re leaving just when he arrives.” To emphasize his point he shifts and pats her ass to get off him. She does so, but before she could sit on the other chair Rooster pulls her back into his lap so her back was to him. “So I expect you to behave the rest of the night,” he whispers into her ear, noticing goosebumps forming along her arms. “Otherwise you’re gonna have some trouble walking down that aisle after I’m done with you.”

Barbara bit her lip, suppressing a moan. Leaning back into his chest, she tilted her chin up so her mouth was beside his jaw, “You say that as if it’s not what I want.” Goddamn it, she was always one step ahead.

Rooster curses, “You minx.” Next thing Barbara knew his mouth was attacking her neck in kisses. She squealed at the tickling sensation of his mustache on her skin, squirming away when fingers began dancing up and down her sides.

“Okay! Okay—I yield! Have mercy!” Her laughter continues to ring out, but his kisses don’t stop. “I’ll behave, I promise!” Finally his attack seizes, the man placing a final kiss to her jaw and pulling her close in a hug.

At that moment, Mav had spotted them, smiling as he approached, “There’s the happy couple.” Barbara’s laugh calmed down but the grin remained, “Hi, dad. You made it!” Tapping Rooster’s hand, he let go of her so Barb could embrace Mav. Rooster took the opportunity to adjust his pants, placing a forearm over his semi-hard dick that was threatening to ruin the night.

“Of course I would make it,” Mav scoffs as they pull away. In his hands was a good sized gift bag, making Barbara narrow her eyes and go, “What is that?” She specially said no presents until the wedding knowing her friends and family tended to go all out and wanted to give them essentials leading up to the day. Her excuse was “we’ve been married before, I’ve lived on my own for three years, we don’t need anything.” She should have known her father would not listen.

“I know you said no gifts tonight, but,” he presents the bag to her, “I believe you can make one exception for you dad.” Huffing, but showing gratitude, Barbara reluctantly accepts the bag with a shake of the head. Her father just chuckles, expecting the reaction and watches as she removes the tissue paper to reveal a shoebox sized Tiffany & Co. blue box. Immediately she stills, “Dad.”

Obsessed with Audrey Hepburn as a kid, she damn well knew all there was about the famed jewelry company. Breakfast At Tiffany’s was her favorite movie growing up. It was her dream to one day own a piece by them and sometimes for fun she would go on the website just to look at the recent collections. The reason she had never splurged on them was because she hardly wore jewelry due to her job. The current engagement ring on her finger from Rooster was the most extravagant thing she owned—and nearly had a heart attack when he presented it to her.

So yeah, as much as she loved window shopping for jewelry, Barbara never spent money on it. She wasn’t even planning on wearing anything to the wedding but the ring and possibly borrowing a pair of tiny pearl earrings from her mom.

Now there was an iconic Tiffany blue box in her hands.

“I remember when you were a girl you’d always want to watch that old sixties Audrey Hepburn movie—and how you begged for a movie poster of it for your eight birthday,” Barbara’s eyes teared up, chuckling at the memory her dad mentioned. She couldn't believe he remembered.

Mav nodded to the box in her hands, “Your mom told me that when you guys went to New York for your high school graduation, you pretty much disappeared and she found you glued to the window of the Tiffany & Co. shop.” Now the air had caught in her throat, realizing that just the week before Mav was in D.C for TDY. He must’ve met up with Charlie without telling her and then took a trip up to New York to go physically to the store.

“She also told me you asked to borrow a pair of her earrings—saying you weren’t going to have any other jewelry on since you didn’t own much,” Now he was scratching the back of his neck, a nervous laugh escaping at the look she was giving him. It was unreadable, but the glossy sheen of her eyes indicated she was becoming emotional.

“You went to Tiffany’s?” The best way to describe Barbara’s voice was that of a child opening up a gift on Christmas to find it was something they wanted all year. “T-to get me..” the words trail off, Barbara looking back at the box to make sure it was really in her hands. That it wasn’t some joke. But no, the box in her hand felt a little heavy proving it was really there. Her heart was speeding at a rapid rate—he really got her jewelry from Tiffany’s.

“I asked Phoenix if she could help me decide what was the best thing to get—since she’s your maid of honor. She told me your veil has pearls in it, so I went that direction.” With shaky hands, Barbara slowly unwraps the ribbon and opens the box to reveal six smaller Tiffany boxes lying inside.

“Oh my God, dad,” she sniffs, aware that several tears have leaked down her cheek. It wasn’t so much the fact he bought her jewelry for her wedding day that made Barbara emotional, it was the message behind it. Pete remembered how much she adored the movie as a child and went as far as to go to the store she admired from afar to get buy—probably worth an entire month's rent and bills—a gift knowing it would make her happy.

She was more than happy. Barbara was on cloud 9. Her childhood heart was crying and so was her teenage and adult self.

Feeling Rooster come beside her, he gently took the box from her shaking hands to hold it so she could individually open each. “Did you know about this,” she accused after catching the wink he sent Mav and how he was looking at her with adoration.

“Maybe,” he kisses her temple.

“I can’t believe you two—especially you!” She points a finger at her father, who grins bashfully. Before she opens either of the boxes she basically tackles Mav in a hug causing him to playfully groan. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, so so much, dad,” she says, her tone mixed between a laugh and a cry. “I love you so much—this is the best gift ever.”

“You haven’t even opened it yet,” he chuckles and she playfully slaps his shoulder, but doesn't pull away from the hug.

“I don’t care! Whatever it is I’m going to love it because it’s from you and you spend God knows how much for me to have it on my wedding day. You remembered how obsessed I was with that movie and I can’t even think of the words to describe how that makes me feel.” She feels him kiss the top of her head, hands rubbing her back in a comforting way.

Mav often had trouble saying words, but that didn’t stop him from expressing how much his daughter meant to him in other ways. He could remember almost everything from when she was a child—though the times they spent together were scarce and he often relied on the updates from Charlie. Her love for old Hollywood movies and actresses was always a big part of her childhood. There was no way Mav would forget that.

They pull away, Mav kissing Barb on the cheek before she finally opens the first box. It was the smallest of the bunch and revealed to be a pair of stunning pearl earrings with silver backings in the cushion. Instantly she recognized them as part of the Ziegfeld Collection. “Oh they’re beautiful,” she breathes out, taking a finger to brush over the smooth surface of one of the pearls. Then Barbara does a double take between the earrings and the remaining five boxes, snapping her head to Mav with wide eyes, “You did not.”

A blush coats his cheek, the man scratching his jaw to stop from grinning, “When the lady helping me at the store showed me the display, I just couldn’t help myself. I thought why not have the whole thing.”

“You fucking madman!” She exclaimed, covering her face with her free hand.

Maverick bought her the entire Ziegfeld collection from Tiffany’s.

By now Phoenix, Halo, and Penny had come over to see what the fuss was about. They all gasped at the sight of Rooster with a large Tiffany box in his hands and several matching ones laying inside it. “Oh my gosh!” “No way—that’s amazing!” “Nice work, Mav!”

Barabara was literally crying, hiding her face when Rooster used his free arm to pull her against him. She couldn’t describe the emotion raging inside her. Her father really outdid himself—all so she could have something special on her wedding day and long after.

Each time she collected herself to open a box she was met with more tears and giggles. Those giggles one has when they are trying to comprehend what’s happening and can’t help but laugh. Yeah, that was Barbara everytime.

One buy one with the onlookers of her friends and father, Barbara opens the Tiffany boxes to reveal the entirety of the Ziegfeld collection consisting of two pairs of pearl earrings—one studs, the other dangly—a pearl bracelet, and three pearl necklaces—the 5-6mm that went on like a choker, the 6-7mm (which was like the 5-6mm but the pearls were slightly bigger), and the 6-7mm wrap that had two layers of pearls and went down to just above the belly button.

“Jesus Christ, Pete Mitchell,” Barbara groans with a smile, taking the tissue from Penny with thanks to wipe her eyes. There was no doubt her mascara was gone and mentally noted to touch it up in the bathroom. She let out a breath, finally calming down. “I cannot believe you got me the whole damn collection. And don’t think I don’t know how much you spent! I know that the wrap necklace is fifteen hundred dollars by itself.”

Mav shook his head at her words. Leave it to Barbara to know the prices of Tiffany’s jewelry. “How do you know how much I spent, Barbara?” She gives him a look that reads, ‘you underestimate my ability.’ He waves a hand, “Nevermind don’t answer that. But I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it?!” She scoffed, “I fucking love it—are you kidding?! Dad—,” she goes to hug him again as Rooster takes it upon himself to carefully put all the boxes together and close the large one so they are safely stored. He then puts it in the gift bag and tells Penny to hide it somewhere no one could find it until they are ready to leave for the night.

“It’s the most thoughtful, amazing, beautiful gift I’ve ever received. I can’t thank you enough for it.” She pulls away to smile and joke, “Now the hardest decision I have to make is which ones to wear tomorrow—since you got me the whole display,” she playfully slaps his chest with the back of her hand as he laughs with her.

“Anything for my little girl on her special day. Even if it is the second one for her, but the first for me.”

She snorts, “at least it’s the same groom.”

The night continues to rage on with the squad having the time of their lives. Mav orders a round for the group, another chick tries to hit on Bradley and is met with disappointment and Barbara tears it up on the dance floor with Phoenix, Fanboy, and Coyote—calling back to the one they had on the beach. Only this time, Rooster cuts in causing their group to hollar with cheers. Though he is not much of a dancer like Barb, the man’s got some moves.

And finally Hangman got his chance to twirl Barb to Elvis’ ‘Hound Dog.’ When the dance came to an end, Barbara out of breath went, “I didn’t know you could swing, Seresin.” Her words are returned with a wink, “I’m a man of many talents, C.”

As the night came to an end and the bar slowly cleared, hugs were exchanged with the promise of being on time to the wedding. Ubers were called for the ones who had too much to drink. When Barbara went to close her and Rooster’s tab she was met with, “It’s already been paid, honey,” and a wink from Penny. She made a mental note to do something nice for the woman once she returned from the honeymoon.

With the gift bag in hand and heels in the other, Barbara gave one last hug to her father and Penny after saying goodbyes to everyone else. Rooster was just finishing up with the guys when he took her hand and led her to the parking lot.

“Did you have fun tonight, baby?” Rooster asked, practically lifting her into the passenger seat. She wasn’t drunk but after a few cocktails she did feel a little tipsy. She had just started to sober up as they reached the final hour of the night.

“So much fun,” she buckled her seatbelt, gently turning to place the gift bag containing her new jewelry in the back, before turning to him. Fingers went up to the color of his uniform shirt, pulling him close so their mouths were barely brushing against each other, “But now I’m looking forward to our private party, Lieutenant.”

Chills appeared on his arm, the tightness in his pants returning. He saw her smirk, no doubt catching the hunger in his eyes. She flicked her tongue against her lip adding, “was I a good girl tonight? Or do you feel the need to punish me? I’m hoping for the latter.”

His hand came to her thigh, gripping it as he brought his lips to hers in a soft kiss. Which was the complete opposite of the words leaving him that had Barbara clenching her thighs together as familiar moisture gathered between them.

“I’m going to take pleasure in watching you struggle to walk down that aisle, babygirl.”

“You ready, dad?” Barbara clutched onto the small bouquet of daisies in her right hand with her left on Pete’s elbow. Butterflies consumed her stomach as she watched her friends take their seats.

It was a truly beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky as the sun shined down on the scene before her. Penny, Phoenix, Halo, her mother, and everyone who was involved in the planning did an amazing job decorating The Hard Deck and the area leading onto the beach. Chairs were laid on either side of the white fabric laid on the sand to represent the aisle. Off to the side (as per military wedding tradition) were the flags of Barbara and Rooster’s unit and to the left of them was the American Flag. There was a wooden platform at the end where the officiant and Rooster stood. The man looked handsome as ever in his Dress Whites.

One one side of the aisle were members of their found Top Gun family. Cyclone and Warlock were seated at the front with their wives and the remaining daggers behind them—also in their Dress Whites. On the opposite side Charlie sat at the front with an empty chair reserved for Mav beside her. Penny and Amelia sat at the end with Theo laying on the sand beside their feet. Attached to the dog’s back was the cushion holding the wedding bands.

Between Maverick's seat and Penny, two framed pictures stood tall.

Goose and Carol. Who were there in spirit.

Barbara insisted on having the pictures of their loved ones who had passed in the ceremony. She nearly fired the photographer when they suggested it would look better to have the empty chairs off to the side instead of in the main gallery. It was the only time she ever displayed the stereotypical ‘bridezilla.’ “Absolutely not. I want his parents beside mine and that’s final. I do not care if it looks odd with spaces in the photos. I’ll find another photographer if I have to.”

The Kazansky’s were behind her parents—where a picture of Ice was placed on the seat next to Sarah.

“You’re asking me that, honey?” Mav scoffed, adjusting the collar of his uniform.

“You look a little red,” she points out. Maverick had been quiet the second they got to the area just out of sight from the doorway where they would enter. Barbara shoved a couple tissues into his pant pocket, causing him to playfully glare. “Just in case,” she winked.

“Stop it. I’m not gonna cry.”

‘Sure you’re not, old man,’ she silently thought. Just ten minutes before she caught him rubbing his eyes after they did the first look.

At that moment Phoenix was approaching them from the side. The brunette looked beautiful in her lavender pantsuit with hair curled down and matching pearl pins like Barbara. There had been no strict dress code really, but given it was a Navy wedding the Dress Whites were mandatory, however, since Nat was Maid of Honor (and Best Woman) she was allowed to wear what she pleased.

“Almost showtime, C,” she beamed, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Is it a bad time to throw up?”

“Oh stop it,” Nat fixed the veil and adjusted the pearl necklace. Barbara had decided on the 5-6mm single strand necklace with the studs. The bracelet was clasped on Barb’s left wrist. They were the perfect compliment to the look since Barb was going for a timeless and soft appearance with her hair and makeup. Since she didn’t have pockets in the dress, Phoenix was holding onto the sunglasses she would need for pictures and the after party. “This isn’t your first rodeo.”

Barbara’s face was incredulous. “Nat, my first wedding was at the courthouse with you, Rooster, and my mom. We literally drove up like it was a drive thru, got married—no rings mind you and the guy looked like he had just woken from a nap—then went to Chili's to catch happy hour.”

Nat puckered her lips to not burst into laughter, but Barbara’s expression had her falter, the two falling into giggles as they replayed the memory in their minds. Mav just shook his head, though he could be heard chuckling at their antics.

“Okay-okay, you make a fair point,” Nat wiped under her eyes, calming down since she was about to kick off the ceremony. “I shouldn’t judge since this is technically like your first wedding.” Barbara made a sound of agreement that was teasing, and Phoenix quickly made any last minute touch ups to her friend before checking the time. “Well, C, it’s time. You look absolutely stunning,” she gently takes Barb into a hug, careful not to mess up the veil. “I’ll see you at the end of the aisle.

“Thank you for everything, Nat.” Barb squeezes her hand before she goes. A soft melody begins to play from the speakers causing the guests to turn in their seats. Nat winks at Barb before taking a breath and walking out the opened door. The pair watch her disappear down the aisle, Barbara clutching the bouquet and her dad's arms a little tighter when the instrumental tune of ‘Turning Page’ reaches her ears. “Don’t let me fall, dad.”

“Never, honey,” Mav sniffs, already getting emotional as he places his free hand on top of the hers. “I love you so much.”

Water lines her eyes, “I love you too.” The guests stand in their seats, all turned to face Barbara and Pete as they step out the door. The only person capturing pictures was the photographer who also had an iPad set out to record a video. Barbara silently thanked whoever above she had friends and family respectful enough to not have their devices out.

When she met Bradley’s eyes, it was as though time had stopped.

Nearly faltering in her step, Barbara takes a deep breath and continues to hold onto Mav as he leads her onto the aisle. It takes everything in her not to react when she catches Rooster wiping his eyes, there’s even a slight tremor in his hand.

He’s not the only one overcome with emotion. Charlie, Sarah, and Penny all have tissues in their hands, bringing them up every once and while to remove moisture from their face. The dagger squad is beaming at Barbara. Even Warlock looked happy, which was comical next to Cyclone’s stoic expression—he does give a nod to Barbara though when she passes.

Mav stops when they reach Charlie, Barbara moving to embrace her mother who kisses the side of her head. “You look so beautiful, my love.”

“Thank you, mama.” They approach the wooden platform, Mav helping Barbara up with Phoenix coming to fix the skirt of her dress so it didn’t catch anything. The crowd and Rooster laugh when Penny tosses Nat Barbara’s shoes, the bride waving a hand while saying, “nothing to see here folks,” as she changes out of the sandals designated for walking the aisle. Luckily the song had ended at that moment.

Finally Barb hands Nat the bouquet and takes Mav’s arm once more. They approach Rooster, who still is chuckling at his soon-to-be-wife-again antics, and wait for the officiant to begin.

“Who gives this woman away?”

Pete turns to Barbara, beaming with tears in his eyes, “Her mother and I do. And those we love who are no longer with us.” At the instruction of the officiant, Maverick hands over his daughter to Rooster, but not before pressing a kiss to her cheekbone. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“Thank you, dad,” she whispers, kissing his cheek in return and watching him go take his seat beside her mother. Rooster gently brought her to stand before him, his voice going low to say, “You look marvelous, baby.” A blush forms on her cheek, the woman sending a wink, “The same goes for you, pretty boy.”

The officiant makes the opening statements. All the while the two never stray their eyes off each other even when they laugh at snide jokes made during their vows. Rooster could barely keep it together at times and just wanted to swipe Barbara off her feet. When it finally did come time to kiss her, a squeal left her as Rooster wasted no time by dipping her back and planting his mouth to hers.

Cheers and claps sounded around them followed by the snapping of the photographer's camera. Maverick was blowing his nose into a tissue, not caring to hide his emotions anymore. His little girl was married….again, but that’s not important. It filled him with absolute joy seeing her so happy and with Rooster nonetheless.

The guys were cheering the loudest, Payback even bringing his fingers up to whistle causing Barbara to giggle into the kiss. When they pulled away she was nearly out of breath. “Well that’s one way to take the air from a girl.”

Rooster smirked, kissing her again before pulling Barb up to stand straight, “Had to throw you off your feet somehow since you managed to walk perfectly fine.” Heat consumed her, the woman having to turn away from the crowd as Rooster laughed at her reaction. The cheers become louder as the officiant shouts, “I give you Lieutenants Bradley and Barbara Bradshaw!” At that moment Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback, Bob, Omaha, Harvard, and Yale all lined up on either side of the aisle, facing their partner for the Arch of Swords. Together they lift the swords that were attached to their sides in the air forming a tunnel the couple would have to pass through.

Phoenix moves to lift Barbara’s skirt while Rooster helps his wife down onto the sand. The second the bouquet is back in her hands Barbara is hauled into his arms. “Bradley!” Her laughter echoes, the man holding her close as he walks them through the tunnel of swords before placing her down when Harvard and Yale drop theirs to stop them. The couple kiss, camera capturing the moment and the pilots lift the swords back up for them to pass.

The rest of the guests follow behind them into The Hard Deck where the remainder of typical wedding traditions follow. They had their first dance, Mav and Barb shared a father-daughter dance while Rooster danced with Charlie. Rooster presented Barb with a ceremonial saber for them to cut the cake which made for great pictures. Champagne was popped and poured on the tower of glasses Penny had put together.

The party was in full blast with everyone dancing, singing, taking photos, and overall having a grand time. There was even a photo booth Barbara didn’t know how the hell got there—when asked she missed the way Phoenix, Bob, and Fanboy were high-fiving in victory behind her. She and Rooster were the first to use it with the two making silly faces and kissing in each snapshot. She and Phoenix had one together before bringing Halo and Payback’s wife in. Rooster took several with the guys and they were hilarious. Each time they had done it, one of the four pics appeared blurry because they had trouble fitting everyone into frame.

Barbara’s favorite photos were the ones with her parents. Maverick and Charlie were on either side of her with the two kissing her cheeks, wearing sunglasses while doing blue steel, and just smiling wide for the camera. She even did one with Penny and Amelia before the night was over.

Speaking of Penny…she was the one to catch the bouquet. Maverick’s eyes went wide and Barbara saluted her drink in a cheer, winking to show it was intentional. Even Charlie was in on it, the two women clicking their glasses and silently making bets to see how long Pete would take to pop the question, “I give it a year.”

At one point she was pulled away by the photographer for some single shots—which she made sure to have her sunglasses on in several. Then there were ones with her parents, the guys of the Dagger squad which was chaos in itself, just her and Phoenix, the Kazansky family, the Admirals, and finally some couple shots with Rooster. He thoroughly enjoyed the ones with her on his lap or kissing her.

And it wouldn’t have been a party with Barbara Bradshaw in attendance if she wasn’t on the dance floor. She didn’t know how her feet were not hurting after nearly an hour of strictly dancing with pretty much every guest. All the women belted out the lyrics to Cyndi Laupher’s ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,’ and Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody.’ The guys were rapping along to Kendrick Lamar and Post Malone. When Ritchie Valen’s ‘La Bamba,’ started to play, one nod from Fanboy and the two were spinning across the floor to the claps of their friends.

As the night drew on, Barbara found herself on the deck for some air. The sun had set and stars lined the sky with the calming noise of the ocean waves. Barbara closed her eyes with a deep inhale, letting her mind drift to the memories of the past couple years.

It had been a rollercoaster. That was the simple way to describe it.

This time last year Barbara was a single woman not believing for once she would get a second chance at love—with Rooster at that. She was sure their time was of the past despite the longing in her heart to get him back. Then there was the fact she hadn’t spoken to her father in years, mostly out of shame and personal resentment that he really wasn’t at fault for. Ice was alive and doing everything he could do to keep Barbara out of trouble.

Things were completely different.

Rooster was her husband again, Pete was in her life where they spoke almost on a day-to-day basis, and Ice has passed on. There was also the fact she was back to LTJG when this time last year she had just pinned on Lieutenant. But she would get it back. She was determined to.

“What’s that smile for, Mrs. Bradshaw?” The presence behind Barbara follows the voice, the woman turning to meet her husband’s loving gaze.

“Just thinking,” she replied, leaning against the railing as his hand came to brush the hair from face. The veil had already been removed and safely tucked away.

“About?”

“You. Us. Everything,” she lists off. He chuckles, moving to take a seat on one of the chairs and gently bringing her onto his lap, smoothing out the fabric of her dress.

“All good things I hope,” he says against her temple, kissing the warm skin. She nods against his touch, fingers brushing over his medals and ribbons.

“It’s always good. Even when I think of the bad times I’m reminded of all the good that came after it. When I think of the regret from not talking to my father all those years, I know to cherish the fact I have him back in my life. When I think of being demoted, it gives me the motivation to earn it back. When I miss Ice, I think of how proud he would be of us all,” her eyes flicker to his hazel-brown ones, shifting her body so she was straddling him. Her hands cup his cheeks, pressing their chests together, “And when I think of what happened between us, it fills me with bliss that we have a second chance. I’m grateful each and everyday to have you by my side. To love and adore you for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Rooster sighs, winding his arms around her waist to cradle her. The fabric of her dress was smooth beneath his palms. Rooster kisses her with all the love and passion he could muster. Taking her breath away like he did on the altar. “You don’t understand how I wake up each morning and thank God you’re there. Sometimes I have to pinch myself because I still think it’s a dream,” his thumb wipes away a tear that fell on her cheek.

“You’re the only person I want to walk through life with. I want us to have that house we always talked about with dogs and a bunch of kids. I wanna hold your hair back when the morning sickness hits and be your shoulder to cry on. I want it all with you, baby. Always have. And I hope when we’re old and gray, that I’m the one to go first because my heart won’t take living on an Earth where you’re not there.”

The tears began to fall at a rapid rate, Barbara’s bottom lip trembling, “We’ll go together then because I can’t imagine waking up to an empty bed without your arms around me. You’ll take my soul with you so expect me to be not far behind.” She wiped away his own tears, closing the gap between them—her arms going around his neck while his own tightened on her waist.

When they pulled away she kept her mouth close to his, whispering, “I want all those things too. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted them with.” His left hand goes to cup her cheek, the metal of his wedding ring cool against her skin.

“Then let’s have them, Barbara Bradshaw.”

Twenty-Three Years Later

“It is my honor to welcome you all to the graduation of the Naval Academy’s Class of Twenty-Forty-Two! Let me start by thanking all the parents, siblings, grandparents, friends, loved ones and anyone else who came out today to celebrate this milestone for our graduating cadets….”

The brown curly haired boy teenager with bright emerald eyes like his grandfather, leaned over to whisper to his mother, “How long is this going to be?” He was received with a look of disapproval, reading, ‘are you serious right now?’

“The ceremony just started, Nico, have some patience and respect. It’s your sister’s college graduation for God’s sake! In two years we’ll be doing the same thing for you and five years after that for Tommy.” She turned away from him, eyes scanning over the football field to find her daughter in the crowd of her peers. With it being alphabetical, she should have been seated near the front.

Tommy, the fifteen-year-old in question with dark locks like his mother and brown eyes, snickered and nodded to the stars on her collar, “Maybe by then you’ll be a four-star Admiral, mom.”

“Don’t challenge her, Tommy,” their father playfully scolds, though there is a smirk on his lips. “She just made Vice last month after only being Rear Upper Half for two years.” His own three-stars on the collar of his uniform reflected against the sunlight. He had earned them just four years before.

“What can I say,” she leans back in her seat with a smug smile, “getting demoted made me an overachiever.”

He takes her hand and leaves a kiss to her knuckles where her wedding ring lay, “One of the many things I love about you, Barbara Bradshaw.”

Thirty plus years of service, combat medals, citations, two marriages to the same man, three kids, and a career that would go down in history, Vice Admiral Barbara ‘Legacy’ Mitchell-Bradshaw would be a name forever known in the world of naval aviation. Just like her father and his father before, the best way to put it all into one word would be distinguished.

It had been some time since she last soared the skies after accepting the promotion of Rear Admiral Lower Half. Like her father, Barbara was tempted to remain a Captain for the sake of flying, but her children were either in or entering their teen years at the time and Barbara knew she needed to accept her time as a pilot was over. The main reason she held anger for Maverick as a teenager was the fact he continued to stay a Captain to stay in the air. The decision made him miss several important milestones in her life, and when Barbara came to him after it was possible she would get the promotion he advised her to take it, noting it had been one of his biggest regrets to not be there for her when she needed him most.

“CeeCee is gonna be fifteen this year, honey,” he said to her with a knowing look, “You know how it was for you at that age. By then you had already started resenting me for the little things that soon added up. Nico is thirteen and little Tommy just turned nine—I know it’s been easy having Rooster always there now that he’s been Upper Half for a year now, but you know how the Navy is.”

It opened Barbara’s eyes a lot, cursing at herself for nearly letting history repeat itself. The next morning she was calling to accept the promotion after telling Rooster, who was in full support and spun her around like the proud husband he was. “Welcome to the star club, babygirl.” Their kids were very pleased, with teenage son Nico already bragging how both his parents were Admirals.

She made a mental note to teach him not to be arrogant when it came to others. Growing up the kid of a naval officer, Barbara had her fair share of friends who tended to be stuck up because their parents were a higher rank than hers. They were even worse to the enlisted kids. She was not about to have her kids be like that.

And to pat herself on the back, she and Rooster did a great job raising their children. CeeCee, their oldest and only girl, was born a year after their wedding. Like her mother she loved to dance and had a talent for ballet. It surprised the couple when she announced she wanted to follow in their footsteps and become a Navy officer. The two had always made it clear early on they would support their children in whatever endeavors they desired when it came to their future. Never did they put pressure on the Navy, aviation, or even college.

“I wanna be a pilot,” she said over dinner during her sophomore year of high school. The forks in both Barbara and Bradley’s hands clink as they hit the plates.

“You do?” They both said with surprise, causing a light blush to appear on their daughter’s cheek.

“Yeah,” she nudged the carrots on her plate, “I always loved flying when you two would take us out in Grandpa’s plane or to the airshows. Guys at my school try to say women aren’t meant to be pilots, but mom and aunt Phoenix are prime examples that’s not true. I wanna prove them wrong in my own way.”

Nico, the ever supportive little brother, says to her, “I think that’s badass,” he ignores the looks of disapproval from his parents, “You might even get a cool callsign like ‘Legacy Junior’ or 'Swan.’ Keep the birds running in the family, you know?” Even Barbara couldn’t hold back the smile at that. Rooster appeared all too pleased at the thought.

“What about you then, Nico?” CeeCee scowls, though part of her actually liked the callsign he thought of. “What would your callsign be? If we’re keeping the birds in the family, like you said.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna be a pilot—no offense mom and dad,” they both laugh and say ‘none taken,’ He takes a bite of his food before continuing. “But if I did it would be something cool like ‘Falcon,’ or ‘Eagle.’ Just so when I land I can be like, ‘the Eagle is landing!’”

The memory of that night was one Barbara would remember for the rest of her life. A happy one, with all her children laughing together as they voiced potential callsign for the newest edition to the Mitchell-Bradshaw clan of aviators. Rooster and Barbara shared a loving gaze, no doubt thinking about how blessed they were. That year they had celebrated sixteen years of marriage and one year of Barabara becoming Rear Admiral Lower Half.

Barbara was in paradise.

Now here she was, seven years later, at her oldest child’s graduation from the Naval Academy who would soon be off to flight school. Her husband of twenty three years (add five if you wanna not count the three year period they were divorced) sat beside her with their sons on either side. Three stars pinned to her collar and the position of air boss when it comes to special missions going through Top Gun.

How’s that for a girl who lived up to the Legacy?

……………….

Tag list ♥️: @multiple-fandoms-girl, @maverick-wingman, @sgt-huntersupremacy, @the-winter-marvel33, @justanothermagicalsara, @calicokel, @lydia-demarek, @alanadetigy, @shrimping-for-all, @chaoticassidy, @nemtodd-barnes1923, @bradleysgirl, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @mak-32, @persephonehemingway, @candid-confetti

Thank you all so much for your support and patience. This epilogue is for you.

[outalongtheedges]

Pete “i need to stand on a box to look my husband in the eye” Mitchell

Tom “leaning down to look my husband in the eye is my greatest passion” Kazansky

Masterlist

[worldofheroes]

Christmas Surprise

tom cruise x younger!wife!reader

summary: your husband surprises you on Christmas Day.

warnings: slight strained relationship, age gap (not mentioned), fluffy Tom

wc: 521

a/n: based on this request. Merry Christmas/happy holidays everyone!

You weren’t the biggest fan of Tom filming over the holidays. He knew that, and he told you he did everything he could to avoid this, and you believed him. It didn’t mean you were happy about it.

Tom calls you on Christmas Eve.

“Hey you,” you answer your phone.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m so sorry about filming over the holidays.”

“I know you are, baby, and it’s okay. You sound exhausted.”

Tom softly chuckles. “Yeah, I am. I wish I could be in bed with you right now.”

You smile at his words. “I know, Tom, I know. You’ll be home for New Year’s, right?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Good,” you smile. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay. Talk tomorrow?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The call ends. You stay there for a moment, looking at your Lock Screen - a picture of you and Tom.

You get ready for bed - throwing on one of Tom’s shirts - and crawl onto his side of the bed. It smells like him and brings you comfort when he’s away. You wrap yourself in the blankets and his calming scent lulls you to sleep.

The next morning, you’re woken by the bed shifting.

“Tom?” you ask groggily, still not quite awake.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he says, leaning over and kissing your cheek.

“Mm, Merry Christmas,” you mumble.

Tom lays down beside you, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear.

The chills that you get from his whisper wakes you a little more.

“Tom?” you ask again, a little more awake.

“I’m right here, y/n,” he tells you.

“Tom!” you exclaim, turning over to face him. You cup his face in your hands.

Tom smiles and kisses you. You wrap yourself around him.

“I guess you’ve missed me,” Tom chuckles, kissing whatever skin he can get to.

“Mm hm,” you hum. “I thought you were filming.”

“We were but took a break for the holidays. I wanted to surprise you.”

“You sure did,” you say, this time you’re the one peppering his skin with kisses. “I just want to lay here all day with you.”

“Well, good news - you can.”

“No work calls?”

Tom shakes his head. “I’m all yours, sweetheart. Until the 12th.”

You take a good look at Tom before kissing him again - hungrily and needily.

“Easy, sweetheart, we have, like, 20 days,” Tom chuckles against your lips.

“Yeah but I haven’t seen you in like 30,” you reply, moving your kisses from his lips to the corner of his mouth and jaw.

“Alright, alright,” Tom smiles. “I’m all yours. Do what you please.”

You giggle. “Don’t tell me that.”

Tom pulls you onto him, and you straddle his torso, hands on his pecs.

“I mean it,” he says playfully, poking your sides.

You smile at him before you lean down to kiss him again.

“God, I love you,” you murmur against his lips.

“Mm, I love you too,” he replies.

“Best Christmas present,” you mumble against his lips, absolutely overjoyed he’s back home in your arms.

[starlightval]

his f-18, his bronco, his favorite sports teams and you || bradley 'rooster' bradshaw

pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x mitchell!reader

synopsis: you claim there are a select set of things rooster pays attention to and remembers information about. those being his f-18, bronco, and favorite sports teams. however rooster is quick to correct you seeing as you left off one very important thing on that list, you.

warnings: n/a, just some short and sweet fluff

note: not edited! rooster has me in an absolute chokehold, enjoy lovlies.

ps. i may or may not have a rooster x mitchell!reader multific story in the works 👀 let me know if thats something you'd be interested in!

masterlist

*I do not give consent to my work being posted, translated, copied or published to any third-party site. If you see my work reposted anywhere, please reach out and let me know.*

“Roo, baby, you know I love you from the absolute bottom of my heart but I don’t trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen.” You order sweetly, pointing toward the living room with the spatula in your hand.

Rooster had come waltzing in a few moments ago, his baseball game having cut to a commercial break, and with one look at you buzzing around the kitchen with your hair messily pulled back against your head as you multitasked getting things prepped for tonight's dinner, had announced that he wanted to help.

To which you said absolutely not and he immediatley wanted to know why leading to the converstation you were currently having.

He grabbed at his chest, face twisting in offense, “Excuse you, for your information I am a fantastic cook. Carole Bradshaw insured that.” 

“And I have nothing but the utmost absolute faith in Aunt Carole’s abilities. What I don’t have faith in is your ability to pay attention and retain the knowledge of anything that doesn’t have to do with your F-18, Bronco or favorite sports teams.” 

“Are you calling me dumb Y/n Mitchell?” He accused.

“I never said that Bradley Bradshaw, I only meant that your talents and intelligence are more aptly applied in places that aren’t my kitchen.” You countered, putting emphasis on his name the way he did yours.

He stared at you for a moment, eyes playfully narrowed, trying to come up with good enough response to defend himself against your argument. He repeats your list mentally to himself; His F-18, his bronco, his favorite sports teams and...wait a minute-

Rooster's head cocked to the side and a smirk spread across his face as a thought suddenly dawned on him. You rose an eyebrow as he placed his beer down on the kitchen island and took a step forward crossing the distance towards you, “What are you doing?”

“You left something off that list,” he said softly, taking another step forward and pinning you to the counter with his hips. His hands went forward to rest on the edge of the marble on either side of your waist, leaving you with no where to go.

You furrowed your eyebrows and smiled in confusion up at him, “What?” 

His closeness was disarming and you never could think straight in his presence. Especially not with those dark brown eyes locked so intensely on yours, so your earlier argument had already slipped from your mind. 

“The list of things that you said I pay attention to and remember stuff about, you forgot something.” He repeated, breath fanning lightly across your face, “It's my F-18, my bronco, my favorite sports teams and you. I always pay attention to and remember anything to do with you baby.” 

Your breath hitched and you instantly became putty in his arms, heart melting right along with the rest of you. 

Your suddenly hit with the rush of an overwhelming amount of love for the man in front of you. Surging forward, you closed the small gap between you and brought your lips together in a passionate kiss. Your arms circled themselves tightly around his neck, spatula dropping forgotten to the floor, as you tried with every fiber in your being to express through your kiss just how much you freaking loved and adored him. 

The pair of you don’t separate until you both desperately need to breathe, gasping lightly as you do for air. Your arms remained in their locked postion around his neck, preventing him from putting any space between you, so he simply lowered his forehead to rest against yours, eyes falling shut. 

It’s silent between you for a few more moments as you basked in one another’s touch, breathing the same breath, before you break it by whispering, “I still don’t trust you in my kitchen.” 

Rooster doesn’t react at first but then suddenly he bursts into loud boisterous laughter. His head dropping down to your shoulder, body shaking against yours with the force of it.

He manages to recover a few seconds later and still slightly chuckling, squeezes your waist before lifting his head up and pressing one more soft kiss to your lips.

Rooster then proceeds to back away, freeing you from your postion pinned against the counter, and grabbed his beer off the island to return to his game. 

“Whatever you say honey.” 

[shit-sorry-fuck-mybad]

Imagine Ice was like really into photography so he would take a lot of pictures of Mav and their friends and Bradley and when he dies Mav goes through the pictures and realizes that Ice isn’t in them because he was always the one taking them