#rooster x mitchell!daughter

[sebastianstangirl01]

One Man’s Loss is Another Man’s Gain

Title: One Man’s Loss is Another Man’s Gain

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Wife Reader

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Bradley being put in his place, Protective Jake

Summary: When the best pilots in the navy get called back to Top Gun for a special detachment and it’s learned that Pete Maverick Mitchell is the instructor Bradley Bradshaw looks forward to seeing his old crush again so he can finally confess his feelings, Y/N Mitchell. Too bad Jake Seresin already swept her off her feet and made her Mrs. Seresin.

Requested: Yes!

When you first heard about this special suicide mission it’s safe to say you were terrified for your husband and father. You and Jake had been married for around 3 years now and you’re currently 7 months pregnant with your first child. The idea of being left a widow killing you inside, but not as much as the chance of your son growing up without his father.

You and your father Pete Mitchell have a strong relationship, he was the only constant in your life for a long time after your mother abandoned you on his doorstep. Growing up you and your dad spent a lot of time with Carole and Bradley, Goose passed away 3 years before you were born and Carole and Pete sometimes joked that Goose sent you to them because he knew they needed you.

Carole was the only mother figure you ever had in your life and when she passed away when you were 16 it rocked your whole world, as far as you were concerned she helped raise you and you loved her like a daughter loves her mother.

Bradley. He was a different story, though you’re 6 years younger than him you two grew up as best friends. He was your first crush when you turned 13 and actually noticed how cute he was, but he was in college then and was always going out to parties with college girls, so you never saw him much. When you were 15 you finally realized how dumb your crush was, he was 21 and you were still basically a child playing softball and hanging out with your friends at the movies and the beach. For your own sanity you let the crush go and just focused on being happy to see him when he came home on breaks.

One day everything changed though. Bradley had written you off completely out of the blue, you tried getting in touch with him but your calls wouldn’t go through, you even tried the old fashioned way and sent him a few letters but never got a response. You tried asking your dad what happened but he refused to give you any details. As much as it hurt, you refused to let yourself feel bad and reach out over and over again when you got nothing in return. So you just stopped trying.

You went to college at UCLA where you played softball all four years and got your teaching degree in elementary education, you moved back home to North Beach where you got a job as a 1st grade teacher at Miramar Elementary School on base, thanks to a few strings pulled by your Uncle Ice to insure you’d be close to home.

You met Jake at the hard deck when you were 23 and he was 26, you had gone out to spend some time with Penny and your dad had just gotten back from a deployment so you all were celebrating. Jake had just graduated from Top Gun at the top of his class and came out with a few of his fellow graduates to celebrate. When you two locked eyes the attraction was instant.

Jake spent almost a month trying to get you to go out with him, you had heard of Jake Hangman Seresin’s reputation from your dad who heard it from Uncle Ice. So you wanted to play hard to get and make sure he actually wanted to be with you and not just get into your pants. He proved himself though when he took you out for a picnic on the beach followed up by a walk on the board walk with some ice cream.

You two dated for around 3 years before getting married, you had a small intimate ceremony with just your family and a few close friends. You two lived in a old fashioned farm house and turned it into your dream house, about a year into your marriage you adopted a golden retriever puppy from the pound named Lady and a tabby cat named Wendy and you two were fine with just being animal parents for a little while.

You spent these last 3 years of marriage building your family home. You and Jake decided to live permanently in San Diego regardless of his deployments. Jake worked as hard as he could for the Navy making a name for himself, while you worked just as hard at your teaching job welcoming kids into your class year after year who left feeling like your very own children. Maverick has his hangar around 20 minutes away from your house and you all have Sunday dinners every week without fail.

When you found out you were pregnant you were surprised but nonetheless thrilled, sure you two weren’t actively trying for a baby but you weren’t really doing anything to avoid pregnancy either. You immediately went to the doctor and got checked out learning that you were 8 weeks pregnant and left with a wide smile and some ultrasound pictures. When Maverick found out he was going to be a grandpa he just about passed out from excitement. But nothing beats Jake’s reaction when he found out he was going to be a father.

You had been anxiously waiting for Jake to get back from training, you found out about the pregnancy around a week ago and you were dying to tell your husband but wanted it to be memorable.

You brainstormed and then remembered the two things he loved almost as much as you. Your animals. You’ve seen other people use their animals as a pregnancy announcement and knew that this was the way to go.

You ordered Lady a thin sweater that read “Big Sister” and Wendy a collar that had baby booties on it since you knew better than to try to put your cat into a sweater, learning from past mistakes. You also found three of the cutest onesies at target, one read “my best friend’s have paws” the second one read “my daddy is a pilot” and the last one read “I love mommy and daddy”. You of course had to get all three, and you wanted to make a box to put them in so you got your pregnancy test and ultrasound picture and put it in the box on top of the folded onesies.

Jake is suppose to be home at 7 and it’s currently 6:50, you felt butterflies in your stomach as you sat on the couch with Wendy resting on the back of the couch near your shoulder and Lady laying across your lap asleep, with the box laying on the coffee table. You were excited but nervous about Jake’s reaction, you knew regardless he would be excited but you may have to scoop his unconscious form off the floor before the excitement hits him.

Before you could think much longer the door opened and both animals lifted their heads to look towards the door as Jake stepped inside. You quickly grabbed your phone and pressed record , wanting to get his reaction on video before urging Lady off your lap.

“Hey baby! How was your day?” You asked standing up

“It was something. I’m just glad to be home with my girls.” Jake smiled setting his bag down at the front door.

“We’re glad your home too. I have a surprise for you.” You smiled making Jake cock his brow

“What? It’s not my birthday, it’s not our anniversary, I didn’t get you anything.” Jake stressed making you chuckle

“This is for me too. Lady go see daddy!” You nudged Lady in Jake’s direction and the dog immediately stumbled towards Jake who squatted down with open arms while he was distracted by the dog you grabbed the box and held it patiently

“Lady girl! There’s my girl! What does mommy have you wearing? What is this?” Jake asked in a baby voice making you smile as he gripped the fabric to try and read it, Wendy had made her way over to the two and was rubbing her head against Jake’s leg purring. “Big Sister?”

You could see the gears in Jake’s head turning as he stared at the sweater before looking down at Wendy’s collar, his head snapped up towards you with wide glossy eyes.

“Baby? Is this what I think it is? Are you pregnant? Am I going to be a dad?” Jake asked slowly standing to his feet

“Open the box.” You smiled feeling tears burn in your eyes as you handed him the box. “Daddy.”

“Oh my god.” Jake mumbled as he looked at the contents of the box. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh baby!”

Jake carefully but quickly sat the box down on the ground before pulling you into his arms making you laugh tearfully as he spun you around.

“Oh my god! We’re having a baby! We’re having a baby! There is actually a baby inside of you right now!” Jake exclaimed cupping your face as your tears spilled over. “I love you so much. This is so perfect, I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled pulling him into a kiss

Jake has doted on you your whole pregnancy, he’s been to every doctor’s appointment, any craving you have he’s out the door to get it, any ache or pain he’s giving you a entire body massage, when your hormones are too much he holds you tight and litters your face with kisses, and pregnancy sex is out of this world.

You’d just hit your 7 month mark and felt like a whale, your ankles were swollen, your back always aches, your breasts are sore and tender, and you officially can’t stand or walk without supporting your bump because it feels like the weight of your bump is going to send you to the floor. You had recently just had a small gender reveal with your dad and some of Jake’s family and learned that you were having a little boy.

Jake has been busy training for the mission and your dad has been busy being the instructor for the mission, which has led to some long days and nights with Lady and Wendy as your company. You had heard from Jake’s nightly complaining that your estranged best friend Bradley Bradshaw is back for the mission and of course they’ve been butting heads, Jake is fiercely protective of you and after learning how hurt you were when Bradley tossed you to the side Jake made it his personal mission to be the biggest ass to him he could be.

Your dad had called you and told you about the fight between Jake and Bradley and how your name had been brought up, and that Jake bragged about how you were his. You smacked Jake on the head that night but quickly got over it when he brought up the idea of a hot bath and a back rub.

Today Penny had practically begged you to come see her, she was your favorite of all your dads conquests growing up and have always kept in touch she was more your mother than your actual mother. You hesitantly said yes, not really feeling like leaving the comfort of your bed but wanting to spend some time with her.

You took a shower and washed your hair and body, since your pregnancy makes you feel sweaty and disgusting at every moment a shower did you some good. You were feeling more energized after your shower so you even did your makeup routine and did a cute braid in your hair. You got dressed in a flowered blue sundress and some sandals and put your regular jewelry on, barley managing to get your wedding band on your swollen finger.

Since Penny loves Lady you decided to bring her with you, and Jake’s been training her since the beginning of your pregnancy to be your watch dog, a job that Lady takes very seriously. You got her in her harness and leash before grabbing your purse and keys and walking out to your white Rang Rover. You opened the passengers side door and patted the seat.

“Up Lady! Good girl!” You smiled giving her a treat and kissing the top of her head securing the leash to the seatbelt before closing the door and walking around to the drivers side.

You drove towards the hard deck with with windows down bobbing your head to your Taylor Swift playlist, the breeze blowing some of your flyaways into your lipgloss.

When you pulled into the hard deck you furrowed your brows when you saw both your dads bike and Jake’s truck in the parking lot. You got out of the car and walked around grabbing Lady’s leash and getting her out of the car before you two walked inside.

“Pen! Penny!” You called out seeing the bar empty

“Out here!” Penny called from the back deck

Lady jerked on the leash at Penny’s voice and you chuckled lightly before dropping the leash letting the energetic dog run out the back door.

“Lady!” Penny exclaimed as you walked outside seeing the golden retriever giving the woman some love. “Hey sweetheart, how you feelin?”

“Pregnant. Very pregnant.” You chuckled taking a seat beside her. “Whatcha doing out here?”

“Just taking in the view.” Penny smirked and you furrowed your brows before following her gaze to see the aviators on the beach playing football

“Oh. That’s why dad and Jake’s bike and truck are out front. I thought they snuck away to day drink.” You said making Penny chuckle

“Nope. They’ve been at it for about an hour. Jake’s already laid Rooster out twice.” Penny raised her brow and you chuckled

“That man. I told him not to be a dick, I swear he holds a grudge worse than any woman I’ve ever met.” You shook your head playing your hands on your swollen belly. “Your daddy’s a little bit of a drama Queen.”

Penny chuckled and turned her head back to the team of aviators and smiled when she saw them walking towards them.

“Looks like they’re heading this way.” Penny nudged your shoulder making you look up

Lady perked up when she first caught sight of Maverick, the dog stumbled in the sand towards him. Maverick smiled and crouched down allowing the dog to run into his embrace, licking his face in greeting.

“Lady girl! You’ve gotten so big in the last week, you just keep on growing.” Maverick smiled rubbing the dogs head

You got up with Penny’s help and walked onto the beach towards your dad, you saw Jake still down by the water with a few other pilots so you figured you’d make your way down to him.

“Hey dad.” You smiled as you walked over to him, Lady coming right back to your side

“Hey kiddo. How’s my grandson?” Maverick asked giving you a hug and kissing your forehead

“He’s being pretty lazy today, he hasn’t moved around much and when I pressed around to try to get him to move he just gave me one big kick basically telling me to shut up.” You chuckled rubbing your belly where your baby had just given you a kick, probably knowing you were talking about him

“It’s those Mitchell genes, he’s gonna be a stubborn one.” Maverick smiled gently patting your stomach

“God help us.” You shook your head. “How’s training going? I hope Jake isn’t being too much trouble.”

“It’s going. Jake’s being Jake. He’s definitely giving Bradley a hard time.” Maverick said

Jake was the one who put you back together, when you met you had some serious trust issues and were battling some depression as well. Even before you finally agreed to date him, Jake was always protective of you and when you finally opened up and let him in he swore no one was ever going to hurt you again.

“He’s just protective, you know that.” You sighed and Maverick nodded

“I know. I’m glad he looks out for you.” Maverick said looking slightly over your shoulder making you smirk

“You know, she still loves you.” You said making him snap his gaze back to you

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Maverick shook his head and you chuckled

“She’s been like my mother my whole life. I wish you’d make it official.” You said kissing his cheek before making your way towards Jake

“Y/N?” A voice asked from behind you making you pause, you knew that voice it’s one you’d never be able to forget no matter how hard you tried

You slowly turned around and saw Bradley standing in front of you, he was wearing his dads old aviators and some cut off jean shorts without a shirt. He’s grown up since you saw him last, now sporting the mustache that looked so much like Goose’s.

“Bradley.” You nodded managing a small smile, you felt Lady settle herself right on your side nearly sitting on your foot in a protective position

“Look. I don’t want any trouble. I know I screwed up so bad, cutting you out of my life was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done. I was just so mad about what had happened that I didn’t even think that you might not of known about it I just decided that you had just as much to do with it as Mav and that was the end of it. You didn’t deserve that, I know that now.” Bradley sighed sadly looking down at your bump that you were cradling

“You’re right. I didn’t deserve that. I loved you Bradley, I honestly thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you. You were my best friend and I know you were going through a rough time losing Carole and then your papers. But I lost her too, she was the closest thing I had to a mom and I loved her so much. I was grieving and then I lost you too.” You paused to clear your throat. “I don’t know. Maybe if you had stuck around I never would’ve met Jake, and I wouldn’t trade him and our life together for the world. I don’t want to bring my son into the world with any hard feelings, I don’t want any grudges to be passed down to him. So, I am willing to try and move past this. You were family once Brad, I think that maybe we could be that again.”

Bradley cleared his throat and looked away before looking back towards you.

“I would really like that. I’m happy for you kid, as much as I hate to say it I’m glad that you have Jake and happy that you found someone who will love and take care of you. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make this right, I promise.” Bradley said and you nodded reaching down to pet Lady when she nudged your leg

“I think we can do that.” You smiled softly one that Bradley mirrored

“Congratulations. I remember how you always talked about being a mom.” Bradley said gesturing to your stomach

“Thank you. It’s a little boy.” You smiled adoringly down at your stomach

Before anything else could be said, a familiar presence was felt behind you before arms wrapped around your waist and gently cupped your stomach pulling you back into a warm firm chest.

“Everything good here?” Jake asked leaning down to kiss the spot right under your ear

“Everything’s fine.” You nodded towards Bradley who nodded in agreement

“Yeah. Uh, congrats on the baby.” Bradley told Jake who nodded

“Thanks.” Jake said before taking Lady’s leash from your hands. “Want to get some food?”

“Yes. I’m starving.” You said and Jake chuckled taking your hand into his

“Let’s go then, I’m sure Penny would make you that burger you love.” Jake said pulling you towards the hard deck

“I’ll see you around.” You told Bradley who nodded watching as you left with Jake’s arm now wrapped around your waist

Bradley watched Jake lean down to kiss your forehead gently as he led you and your dog back towards the hard deck where everyone else was standing around the back deck talking. He watched your smile as you talked to Phoenix and Bob and as you were introduced to everyone else. He smiled softly, he fully expected to be filled with jealousy when he saw you and Jake together.

But seeing how happy you were, your bright smile and sparkling eyes as you cling to Jake’s side. You deserve the world and if Jake can give it to you then that’s enough for him.

Taglist

@daughterofthereaper02

@luckyladycreator2

@calpurniatypes

@littlebadariell

@qnfluvr

@raefoxiegirl

@maverick-wingman

@avada-kedrava-bitch

@army24--7

[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 .

[thedarkworldofhananerea]

I'm new to this whole tumblr thing, but I have some ideas about some shots on Bradley Bradshaw or Jake Seresin, help me, we know we deserve it

[justabigassnerd]

You Are Still My World

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

Word count - 3,310

Warnings - feelings of abandonment, mentions of Carole & Goose, mentions of death, angst

Summary - 17 years after Bradley took off after your dad pulled his papers, he waltzes right back into your life like nothing ever happened

A/N - hey y'all! sorry it's been a minute since I last uploaded a fic, I was in a slump and y'all's lovely comments managed to bring me out of it. this was an anon request that I hope I did justice because the idea was so cool. As per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

As you grew up, the adults that surrounded you always joked that you and Bradley Bradshaw were joined at the hip. Where one of you was, the other would not be far behind. You were the best of friends and you adored Bradley. He was a couple of years older than you but didn’t let it bother him even when people teased him for hanging out with someone who wasn’t in his grade at school and he always bit back, defending you wholeheartedly. Bradley was such a staple in your life that you couldn’t imagine life without him.

Until one day, everything changed.

Your dad, Pete Mitchell, better known as Maverick, pulled Bradley’s papers to the naval academy. You had no idea that he did it until a year after Bradley stopped talking to you. You had seen him on your way to school and waved at him but he just rolled his eyes and continued on his run, making your heart shatter in your chest. You had just been talking with him yesterday, helping him navigate the recent loss of his mother and now he wanted nothing to do with you? Worry and confusion ate away at you the whole school day, since Bradley had just graduated that summer you couldn’t corner him at lunch to get an answer out of him. You now instead had to wait until you could head around to see him at his house. As the day progressed you couldn’t help but wonder if it was just part of his grieving process. You knew anger was one of the five stages when it came to processing grief so maybe he was in that stage and just taking it out on you. Then your thoughts started to shift into more negative ones, and you started to wonder if you did something to upset him the last time you saw him. You replayed every word of the last conversation you had with Bradley and thought about whether anything you said could’ve come across as rude or upsetting to him and you just didn’t know. The second school was over you couldn’t have gotten out of the building any faster and you headed to Bradley’s house, stopping on the path when you noticed that his beautiful blue Bronco was missing from the driveway, indicating to you that Bradley wasn’t home. You chose to bite the bullet and head back home, hoping your dad might have some answers to your questions.

“Hey dad, do you know if I did something to upset Bradley? I saw him on my way to school this morning and he completely blanked me.” You asked as you ate dinner, you had your focus on your plate as you cut up your food so you missed how your dad tensed up at your question.

“No sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Maverick replied, smiling softly over at you as he took a sip from his beer bottle as the angry words Bradley had yelled at him earlier echoed in his head repeatedly.

“You sure?” You ask timidly, wanting to know if there was anything you might’ve done that you didn’t notice but your dad did.

“Positive. Give him a little space, I’m sure he’ll come back before the week is up.” He said, his smile warm and encouraging as you nodded and continued to eat your dinner.

You would not speak another word to Bradley Bradshaw until almost twenty years later.

You didn’t follow in your father’s footsteps when you grew up. You instead became an elementary school teacher and found yourself living in San Diego, mere minutes away from Top Gun. You spent most of your childhood growing up in this area so it felt like returning home after coming back after a few years at college and then teaching in Vermont. You had found yourself missing California more than you cared to admit and when you found out about a teaching job at the elementary school near the naval base you knew you had to move back. You figured that not only would it be nice to come back to the place you called home, but since you were a military kid too, you could help the young children with parents in the navy when their parents went away on deployments. You got the job and moved back to San Diego with a smile on your face.

A few months after you got settled into your new job and your new house, you got a call from your dad, telling you that he had been called back to Top Gun to teach a bunch of Top Gun graduates how to fly a mission. You had offered to let him stay with you when he told you but he declined your offer, telling you that he already had quarters to live in but he promised he’d be visiting often. It was nice to have your dad back in town again, he’d been away on a fair few deployments recently so you enjoyed having him around again, and the fact he wouldn’t be flying the mission put you at ease slightly because, from the way he described it, this mission was one of the most dangerous ones he would’ve flown.

What Maverick didn’t tell you, was that Bradley was one of the Top Gun graduates who was a candidate for the mission. He knew that despite how much you tried to hide it behind your anger, you were still hurt by Bradley leaving and cutting you out of his life. And he knew that you still loved and cared for Bradley, and you would hate to hear that he would potentially be putting his life at risk if he was chosen for this mission.

A month after the uranium mission had been completed and Maverick and Bradley had repaired their relationship, you bumped into Bradley again for the first time in seventeen years. Dagger Squadron was now a permanent fixture in San Diego with Maverick staying too, not only for his team but because he reconnected with Penny and started going out again. It was nice to have your dad around permanently, and seeing how happy he was with Penny made you happy too.

You were in the shop when you bumped into Bradley again. You were browsing the aisles, searching for new stationery for your classroom since your spare pens never seemed to return when you lent the pens to your students after they realised, they had lost their own pens. You grabbed a large pack of ballpoint pens and turned around where you quickly collided with another body.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to.” You apologised quickly, steadying yourself as the person you bumped into chuckled.

“No harm done.” Your heart plummeted at that all-too-familiar voice. You lifted your head to see those honey-coloured eyes you had loved so much growing up. Bradley had grown significantly since you last saw him, he’d filled out with muscles, his broad shoulders showing through the Hawaiian shirt he was wearing, evidence to you that he’d inherited his dad’s sense of style. He was now sporting a moustache that reminded you of Goose’s. As you stared at him you couldn’t stop thinking about how much you had missed him and how much of his life you had missed. But those feelings were overtaken by the anger you still held deep down at his abandonment of you. Before Bradley could say anything more, you turned on your heels and retreated, leaving Bradley standing in the middle of the stationary aisle with a confused expression. Bradley did a full sweep of the shop in the hopes he’d find you and be able to talk to you but you had left. Bradley had called Maverick on his way out of the shop, asking why he didn’t tell him that you were in town and why you were ignoring him. Maverick chose to tell Bradley that he wasn’t getting involved, that if he really wanted an answer then he had to talk to you himself. Bradley couldn’t help but groan as he hung up the phone with Maverick, knowing you’d seemingly rather talk to a pack of rabid wolves than talk to him with the way you hightailed it out of the shop. Bradley didn’t know why you were refusing to talk to him, he could’ve sworn the last time he spoke to you everything was okay between the two of you. Yes, he could admit that it had been a while since you last spoke with him but he only avoided talking to you because he was so angry at Maverick that he didn’t want to take anything out on you, and then he moved away to college before reapplying to the naval academy again. Bradley headed home, plotting ways to approach you and get you to talk to him.

After seeing Bradley in the store, you seemed to keep bumping into him everywhere you went. You tried to avoid him, ignoring him calling after you and brushing past him when he attempted to corner you. Every time you did, you felt your heart breaking more and more. You still held so much love in your heart for Bradley and it broke you to walk away from him every time you saw him. But every time you thought about hearing him out, you reminded yourself of the pain you felt when he not only ignored you but moved away without saying a word. You could understand why Bradley had been upset all those years ago, when your dad had told you that he pulled Bradley’s papers you got angry on Bradley’s behalf but soon came to understand your father's reasoning but that didn’t stop you from being at least a little upset that he did it because of the fallout it caused.

After a couple of weeks of you avoiding Bradley, he was reaching his breaking point. He was yearning to have you back in his life after so long without you. He knew he missed you when he left but he didn’t realise the severity of how much he missed you until he saw you again. He eventually figured you weren’t going to talk to him unless he could corner you somewhere. He hated himself for it, but he was growing frustrated with you avoiding him, he was trying to mend the bridge between you, and you were seemingly taking dynamite to the metaphorical bridge and destroying it further. He managed to coerce Maverick into giving him your address. He figured you’d be more comfortable talking to him in the four walls of your house and the worst you could do was slam the door in his face. He decided to wait until a Friday evening, deciding to skip Dagger Squad’s usual get-together at the Hard Deck and instead headed home after training to freshen up before heading to your house. He arrived at your house and walked up towards the house, going over what he wanted to say before he stopped in front of your front door, taking a deep breath before reaching to ring the doorbell.

Your eyebrows furrowed when you heard the ring of your doorbell. Your dad always called or texted before he came around, Penny too. You hadn’t invited anyone around nor had you ordered any food to be delivered, although you were sat on the sofa of your house staring at the takeaway pizza menu. Figuring it was one of your teaching assistants, swinging by to run something by you or check something with you before the weekend officially began, you dragged yourself off the sofa and towards the front door, pulling it open to reveal Bradley on the other side. Your face dropped at the sight of him and you went to close the door but he was quick to brace his hand on the door and prevent it from closing. Despite how much effort you were putting into closing the door, Bradley had more muscle than you and had a much easier time keeping the door open than you were having trying to close the door.

“y/n, please talk to me.” Bradley pleads, his eyes full of concern and sorrow as he stared at you.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You say firmly, attempting to close the door once more but when he continues to hold the door open you give up, sighing heavily and stalking back towards the living room with Bradley hot on your heels after closing your front door behind him.

“y/n, I’ve been back in San Diego for a couple of months now and you’ve not spoken a word to me since I bumped into you in that shop. I tried to speak to Mav about why you’ve been avoiding me but he won’t tell me so I’ve been trying to talk to you so I can find out what’s going on here because last time we spoke-”

“Was almost twenty years ago Bradley.” You say, a sharp tone to your voice as you turn to face him, folding your arms over your chest as you stare at him.

“I don’t understand. I had to do what I could to get back into the naval academy after your dad pulled my papers. You know he did that, right?” Bradley counters, wanting you to understand why he did what he did.

“He told me a year after you left. I understand why you felt you had to do that but you didn’t need to cut me out like that. Like I meant nothing to you. Who am I kidding? Maybe I was nothing to you.” You scoff, turning away from Bradley when you feel the tears pricking at your eyes.

“y/n…” Bradley starts, aching to reach out and pull you into his arms but held himself back, knowing that was the last thing you wanted him to do.

“You never meant nothing to me.” He manages to continue, watching your movements carefully, seeing how you were fighting to keep the tears back and he silently hated himself for being the cause of them.

“Oh really? Sure felt like I did.” You mutter angrily, turning to walk into the kitchen with Bradley following behind like a lost puppy.

“You know, you meant the world to me. I loved you so much. Still do love you so much, more than I probably should. Growing up you were my best friend, the one person I wanted to spend my time with and you just left without so much as a goodbye. The last time I ever saw you before you left, you rolled your eyes at me when I tried to say hi. I spent a year of my life thinking I had done or said something that drove you off. Dad only told me what he did because he watched me blame myself for a year. Bradley, you broke my heart. But as much as I want to hate you, I can’t. Every single bit of anger I had towards you is gone because seeing you after so long reminded me of how much I love you and how much I missed you while you were gone.” You say, tears finally rolling down your cheeks at your confession and you saw as Bradley’s face softened at your words.

“y/n. I’ve been a shitty friend, I know that. I don’t deserve your forgiveness and I certainly don’t deserve your love, especially after what I put you through. You were never the cause of why I stopped talking to you. I was a coward. I was scared that because of how angry I was at Mav I was going to take it out on you too. I know now that I should’ve just talked to you but by the time I realised that what I was doing was stupid, the damage had already been done and I was packing my stuff to go to college. I should’ve reached out to you and talked to you way before now because you deserved to know the truth. Don’t ever say I didn’t care about you because I did. I still do. You are still my world. I couldn’t stop thinking about you since I moved away. I thought I’d never get to see you again. That I’d never get to tell you just how much I loved you, because it’s a lot. I am so sorry y/n.” Bradley’s words make you look up at him, his now teary eyes locking with yours. Every memory you had with Bradley flashed through your mind. Memories of spending hours at the beach together. Memories of how he protected you fearlessly when people picked on you. You were seeing your Bradley again in front of you. You took a step towards him and wrapped your arms around his torso, squeezing him tight. Bradley let out a shuddering breath at the hug before gingerly wrapping his arms around you, tugging you a little closer when you show no indication of letting go any time soon. Bradley then dips his head into the crook of your neck and allows his pent-up tears to fall.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry y/n.” He mutters over and over again. His voice muffled by the soft material of your shirt.

“It’s okay, Bradley.” You mumble, one of your hands reaching up to run through his hair to try and calm him down. Once both you and Bradley had calmed down, you moved to sit on the sofa and you could tell from his expression that he wanted to talk about the massive elephant in the room. Both you and Bradley had just confessed your feelings for each other.

“So, we just admitted we loved each other, huh?” You say quietly, laughing lightly at yourself as you look up at Bradley. You had kept your love for him a closely guarded secret, kept behind walls in the confines of your heart but the second you were alone in your house with him, your walls came crumbling down and you poured your heart out to him.

“We did yes. I meant it. I’ve loved you as more than a friend since we were teenagers. But I totally understand if you want nothing to do with me after what I did to you.” Bradley says, gaze lowering in shame as he speaks.

“I meant it in that way too. I honestly didn’t think I’d ever say it to your face but here we are.” You chuckle weakly, lifting your hand to cup his chin so you could direct him to be looking at you instead of at the floor.

“Can I kiss you?” Bradley asks suddenly, his eyes widening when he realises what he said. As he opened his mouth to apologise and backtrack, you pressed your lips to his, pulling him impossibly closer as he reciprocates the kiss. When you pull apart, you press your forehead to his, lips mere inches apart as you grin happily at each other.

“I’ve been waiting seventeen years for you to ask me that question.” You tease as Bradley’s grin grows playful.

“Well, I guess we’ve got a lot to catch up on then.” Bradley says playfully, pulling you towards him as he falls back along the sofa, you lying on top of him in a giggling heap. You cuddle into him instantly as his arms remain firmly wrapped around you. Bradley’s arms felt like home. Like nothing could harm you and you were safe from whatever the outside world could throw at you. As you cuddled into Bradley’s chest, he smiled to himself as he tightened his grip slightly. His world was back in his life and this time he wasn’t ever going to leave you again.

[saltsicklover]

Title: Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Part 1 of 2 - Completed

Find Part 2 HERE and my Master List HERE

A request based off of THIS prompt, from the lovely @inkandarsenic

Romantic Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader Past Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Platonic Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Fem!Reader

A few uses of Y/N

Word Count: This part: 6k+ Total Fic:20k+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talks of death, minor character deaths, labor, loss of a child in utero, abandonment, drinking, talks of God and destiny, swearing, general military talk and lingo, descriptions of food and eating, coughing fits, talks of violence, actual violence, blood, vomit and throwing up, mention of near death experiences. ANGST

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I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. Six years before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

The Officers Club, better known as The Flight Line Bar sits on post in Miramar, frequented by the big brass and educators at Top Gun. The whole place glows with amber light from the buzzing light fixtures that hang from the rafters, dusty and hot to the touch. This half of base, on the far side of the air field has yet to be updated, evident by the chips in the glasses and the inconsistent flickering of the halogen bulbs. The wallpaper is peeling; discolored around the old neon signs that have slowly begun to fizzle out. If it were any brighter inside those four walls, one might be able to see the discoloration of well walked floors and one too many spilt beers.

Two loan pool tables sit in the center of the bar, their felt faded from use and tearing, flanked by a couple of dart boards, their cork crumbling from age. The patrons look about the same, old and wrinkled with age, lines worn into their faces that read closer to distinguished than wary. That's what the military does to a person, wears itself straight into the skin and makes a home there, the ghosts of lost wingman and battle buddies still looming in the whites of their eyes. Too many memories are stuck in the deep folds of their uniforms, worn in around the elbows and shoulders, the creases worn from friction- salute after salute.

It's really a hard to believe that people still frequent The Flight Line Bar. After all, there are so many better places for the students of Top Gun to meander into, just off post where they don't have to risk rubbing shoulders with their instructors- or heaven forbid, hit on their guest lecturers.

After all, It's all fun and games, flirty touches and smooth words until you're slapped with a SHARP report.

The students always figure out the good places to drink after class, shortly after their arrival after one too many moments spent inside the crumbling bar. The drinks are good in taste, better in price, but not worth it at the risk of saying just the wrong thing to just the wrong person.

The new recruits arrival happens like clockwork, and it's a ritual the newly minted Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson loves to witness. He has been watching the little ordeal for the last four years, with each new Top Gun class, even choosing to mark the date on his calendar after having almost missed an incoming class last year.

The new Top Gun recruits wander into The Flight Line Bar in gaggles. Most still clad in their uniforms if they had been lucky enough to get issued a drinking order. The wide eyed aviators would file up to the bar, uneasy looks on their faces as they took in the ranks drinking around them. If the Flight Line Bar was a small pond, the Top Gun inductees are guppies surrounded by some very big fish. One year, a young aviator even tripped over the base commander's seat and was met with a glare that even Cyclone would have been nervous to stand on the receiving end of.

The recruits each drink a beer, the brave ones chancing a second, before they're heading for the door. Cyclone loves to see the discomfort that would roll off of them the moment they crossed the threshold back into the parking lot. Some would even shiver, which always seems to pull a hearty laugh out of the Admiral.

This year, however, Cyclone is met with a very different scene before him when he himself broke the threshold of the Flight Line Bar. Having been stuck in a meeting with Admiral Kazansky, Cyclone ends up arriving later than the usual crowd of recruits. So, when he finally wanders in, he is met with the fleeting glances of some top brass, but no new eyes. He can't fight the way he almost deflates; after the shit day he managed to barely claw his way through, the one thing he was looking forward to were the wide eyes of the newest, freshest meat that Top Gun managed to recruit.

As if today of all days wasn't hard enough to begin with.

Instead, it looks like a regular Friday night, which wouldn't do the leg work needed to actually flip his day around for the better. But he's already there, the drinks are cheap, and he really, really needs a drink. So, he orders with a silent wave of his hand, the borderline elderly man behind the bar meeting the wave with a nod of his head. Cyclone plops down unceremoniously onto one of the rickety barstools. It almost sways under his weight, however it does creak weakly as he settles. His temple meets his knuckles as he lets out a deep sigh as the beer being set down in front of him. Cyclone can only manage a nod to the bartender before lifting the glass to his lips.

The question of why he still drinks here, in this lousy bar, floats through his head for a moment, but he doesn't put fourth the energy to grant himself with an answer. Maybe it's the cheap beer and half price shots. Or, maybe the fact that he doesn't have to fight off the happy hour drinkers or the five o'clock somewhere partiers that seem to be carried in with the wind. Again, he doesn't entertain the question long enough to form an answer.

Cyclone doesn't even have to glance around the bar to know the crowd this Friday night hosts. Top brass, tired officers, and disgruntled wives, each drinking their own bad days away.

The glass feels about a hundred pounds and it meets the bar top with a loud thunk, the amber liquid sloshing around inside. A bit of foam sneaks over the rim, running down the crack in the glass. Cyclone scratches at it with this thumbnail, wondering how the hell the bar is still getting away with using nearly broken glassware. The thought doesn't last long, not many seem to this evening, and he is bringing the impossibly heavy glass back to his mouth for another sip.

As he tips it back a little further this time, the sulking woman a few seats down catches his attention. If this were a normal Friday night, Cyclone might make bets with himself on just why a woman might be crying, in this bar, all alone. He might puzzle that she is a soon to be ex-wife, her spouse making the choice to cheat on deployment. Maybe she is a daughter, or a sister, or a cousin, her base escort hiding in some other corner of the bar, or of the base. But tonight is not a normal Friday night, regardless of the absence of the new incoming class or not.

The Admiral can't help but watch her lazily out of the corner of his eye. She brings a shitty bar serviette up to wipe at her cheeks, sniffling as the paper touches her skin. Cyclone should feel guilty about how much the sight comforts him. At least, he thinks, someone else seems to be having just as bad of a day as he is.

Then, she catches him staring, his beer lost in the space between his lips and the counter. His fingers are sticky against the chilled glass as he holds it there, still watching her. Cyclone doesn't look away, no point in it now. Then, she breaks the disillusioned bubble forming between them with a sniffle and a hiccup.

It's not a pretty sound, but then again, the sight of the woman in front of him isn't exactly pretty either. After all, it's hard to be pretty when snot is rubbed up over the tip of her nose, catching the light as she sniffles again. Her hair is akin to a nest, like her fingers have been making their way through it over and over again until it is more mess than style.

"I'm sorry, Admiral, Sir," Her voice is straining from holding back tears. There is snot dripping from her nose again, and she wipes it with another flimsy napkin. A half effort is made to sweep back the hair in her face, her well kept fingernails catching in newly formed knots as she pushes it back. The woman doesn't break eye contact with him, even as the sight of him begins to swim through her newly forming tears.

"Hey, kid, it's okay, don't worry about it," His eyes meet the fluttering neon sign behind her, not wanting to lock eyes with her again. It lights her in a halo of sickly blue and Cyclone can see the fizziness of her hair in it's light- it's a half distraction from the way she is still looking at him with those tears in her eyes. He can't stand it when women cry, not after watching his wife, June, sob through her entire pregnancy. It's really the way their eyes glaze over- that helpless look where he can just tell they are fighting with everything they are worth, deep down knowing that it might not be enough. Though, it warms his chest a bit to call her "kid", like he has always been meant to use the term.

The Admiral's brown eyes go misty, locking onto the chipped portion of his glass as the memory of his wife, six months pregnant, stuck in a hospital bed as hot tears carved their way down her face invades Cyclone's memory like a plague. He will never forget the crimson staining her cheeks from the exertion as she fought. And fought. And fought. The way her skin was more chapped than smooth from the constant flow of tears- the way the light would catch the shininess of her skin from the petroleum jelly that he lovingly spread over her weeping skin.

She didn't make it home.

Neither did their baby boy.

And now, as this woman sits a couple stools down, crying in a way that's anything other than gentle, corralling her sobs into the fence of her chest; her face that same color he used to be so used to seeing, that same damn sheen to her skin and Beau feels sick. His eyes snap down to her hands and he watches as her fingers push through the soggy material of the napkin, a sight that makes him grimace a bit. Gross is not the word to use to describe a crying woman, that is fact he has to remind himself of, but the way her fingertips slipped right through that soggy excuse of a napkin is damn close. Cyclone schools his mouth into a tight line, knowing that anything he might say could make both of their day's spiral downwards even faster.

"Admiral," Cyclone wills himself to look her in the face, but his pupils dance around, not locking in on one spot too long. The frizz of her hair, then over the puffy skin under her eyes, then back up to the buzzing neon just over the top of her head. Anything to keep from looking into the woman's eyes. He manages a nod in her direction, rewarded with a hiccup from behind her glass.

A couple more used napkins are tossed up onto the bar, adding them to her steadily growing pile. Her beer is cold, and she can feel it travel all the way down, chilling her burning insides with each swallow. Cyclone takes a drink of his too, waiting for her to continue her thought. He closes his eyes as he tips back the glass, the image of the crying woman in front of him replaced with one of June, and he's not really sure which is worse.

Thunk goes the glass again.

"Can I ask a favor?" Her tone is so sweet, yet so, so sad. He thinks of June, then he nods, his body doing the motion for the sake of his heart, even though his brain is screaming at him. He was taught a long time ago that there are people who don't just ask for favors, specifically strange women in bars, new recruits, and the big brass. But, the woman looks about the age his son should have been now and his chest constricts with the realization that he could have been sitting here drinking with him if things had turned out different.

"How can I help you, kid?" The glass is hitting the bar top just a little bit too hard again, the splinter in the glass growing a millimeter. It's quickly covered by the large pad of Cyclone's thumb.

"I- well, I'm supposed to be here celebrating my Mother's leg-legacy," Another sob-full hiccup breaks up her sentence. Cyclone waits patiently for her to finish. She wipes at the tip of her nose with the back of her hand.

"And, she really liked to shoot whiskey," The explanation is coming out too wet and not at all concise, but Beau is nodding along anyway. The woman is rubbing at her eyes again, this time with her fingertips. She carefully runs her nail along the underside of her waterline, trying to catch the new tears before they streak down her cheeks with the rest of them. It doesn't really work, or even if it does, Cyclone can't tell. New tears fill up the spaces the freshly wiped away ones once occupied.

Despite the unclear delivery, Cyclone gets the message. Ordering two double shots of Tennessee whiskey, his wife's favorite, Cyclone offers his best sympathetic smile to his new drinking companion. Then, as the whiskey is being poured and he is shuffling over to the bar stool next to hers. That one creaks and sways too, but he tries not to pay it too much mind.

"What's your name, kid?" There's that warmth again, breaking through the tightening feeling in his chest.

"Lieutenant Y/N "Monsoon" Mitchell," Monsoon raises her shot glass to Cyclone, offering him a nod. It's such an informal introduction but both are thankful for the lack of salute, the lack of military theatrics, tradition, that they are usually stuck to upholding. After all, what is tradition except peer pressure ringing through from years past.

Cyclone knows her, well, her name, this recruit- on paper at least. Suddenly he feels a bit worse for feeling less alone when he spotted her crying.

"Beau "Cyclone" Simpson," He raises his own glass, moving to tap them together. It's a risky move with the state of the glasses, each sporting chips in their rims and hairline fractures down their side. They share sullen, makeshift smiles, neither putting any sort of heart behind the expression. It's a knowing sort of thing, the look they share, one that says I won't say anything if you won't.

"To my Mama, Lieutenant Maria Davis, the best damn medic the USS Vinson ever saw," Monsoon's toast is simple, but she means every single word. Beau's mouth turns up at the corners, nodding to her in acknowledgment of a good job.

"And too my wife, June, and our baby boy, god rest their souls."

The bottoms of the glasses hit the table before the rim makes contact with their lips. The alcohol goes down with a burn, but it's a welcomed sensation. Anything feels better than swallowing grief and there's too much in the air right now. Cyclone chases the shot with a gulp of his beer. Monsoon doesn't. She rests the cool glass against her warm cheek, squeezing her eyes shut. It's a refreshing feeling, almost like she is being rinsed from the inside out.

The alcohol settles deep within them. She is buzzing, he is a bit queasy. Neither need to say a thing about it. It kind of feels like church- like a well spoken sermon where one sits in the pew the furthest from the crowed, tucked away in the back, poking holes in each lesson the preacher delivers. After all, it's not really God's plan, is it? More dumb luck than divine circumstance. Yet, they are both still there, sitting on stool that could give out at any moment as the lights above them buzz and the world feels a little smaller.

"I was watching the class today. You're a damn good pilot, Monsoon," Beau speaks after a few beats of silence, not quite sure what to say. Go with the truth, right? It would be rude to move back to his original seat, especially after the woman next to him just got control of her tears, so small talk is the next best option. She cracks her eyes open, trying to read the expression that follows the compliment. It looks genuine, if not a little proud, so she nods.

And then the world is a bit smaller, still.

"Thank you, Admiral, sir," She sets the glass down, gentler than he has done the whole night, "That means a lot, coming from such a talented pilot as yourself, sir."

And then Cyclone is chuckling, his chest vibrating. That feeling being the closest thing to godly he has felt in a long time, but it's more Zeus, more Jupitar, than it could have ever been God. Monsoon's words are so genuine and it catches him off guard. Most people who say something like that are trying to kiss his ass so hard that there they all but wear marks on the backside of his trousers.

"Are you getting excited to graduate? The ceremony is next week, right?" He asks, bringing his eyes back to the neon behind her. The light above them flickers, neither one acknowledging it. There is a sort of kinship between the way their souls feel and the state of the bar, where living feels like the flickering of a light, tonight.

"Sir?" The question comes with a tilt of her head, her fingers wrapping loosely around her beer. He watches the condensation drip down the glass, the water disappearing behind her fingertips.

"To graduate," he explains like it's the clearest thing, "To finish Top Gun,"

"Oh!" Monsoon almost chuckles, but her soul is too heavy. She settles on a small smile, as kind as she can manage.

"I don't graduate for another six weeks. Today just wrapped my seventh week here, but halfway done does feel good," He can tell she is holding something back with the way her eyes are pinched at the corners, the smiles on her lips straining a bit under her words. Monsoon looks like she almost doesn't believe the words that are leaving her own mouth, but when Cyclone catches her eyes again he can see that look again, I won't say anything if you won't.

"Oh," Beau's hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck, all of a sudden feeling like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "In that case, you are one of the best pilots I've ever seen,"

The words fall from his tongue like they are the simplest thing in the world. His eyebrows are still raised as he downs the rest of his beer. He contemplates Monsoon's career in his head, attempting to think back to files he knows are sitting on his desk, but the alcohol swirls the statistics together in his brain.

"Thank you, sir,"

"Is your father planning on coming to your graduation?" The question is so simple, the next plausible question after toasting to her Mother's life. Monsoon bristles at the question, her expression becoming impossibly more tight, pinched.

"He's uhm," The foam in the bottom of Monsoon's glass is the most interesting thing in the room. Tears are flooding her eyes again, and she's turning back to the shitty bar napkins in the even shittier dispenser. Cyclone knows his question hit a nerve based on how she is frantically pulling napkin after napkin out of the dispenser; and the Admiral's guilt swims to the surface. He is sure that the horizon of it can be seen in his iris's, if Monsoon were to look past the evident sadness that has made a home there. He's pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, blue in color and perfectly folded. He offers it to her and it's taken with a slightly shaky hand.

"M.I.A. or AWOL?" Cyclone asks. There's a bit of humor to his question that neither of them comment on.

"He went AWOL when I was seven," She doesn't take her eyes off the popping foam in the bottom of her glass, "Then I suppose he went M.I.A. three years later, when he stopped sending birthday cards,"

Cyclone hates the way her shrugs are all noncommittal and vaguely unbothered. He would have killed for a chance to raise his child, hell, he would move the Earth if that meant he even had a chance to do something. The fact that a man would walk out on his family, on his own child, it makes him sick. There is still something else Monsoon isn't saying; the way she chuckles is almost wax poetic with the way she rolls her eyes. Cyclone raises an eyebrow at her as he gestures to the bartended for two more on tap.

"I was in Admiral Kazansky's office today," She chuckles again, eyes glassy and unfocused. Cyclone slides the new beer over to her. He brings his up to his lips as she breathes deeply, trying to order the words together in her head, words she can't believe she is about to say out loud.

"There's a fucking picture of my father on his desk," Then she is downing the beer in quick, deep gulps. It's half gone before she sets it back down. Cyclone's brain is working on overdrive, swerving the hazy clouds of intoxication, searching for the mental picture of the Admiral's desk. Monsoon is chuckling in quiet disbelief, picturing the damn photo on his desk, her father and the Admiral shaking hands during their time at Top Gun. It makes her sick, really, but she doesn't need to say it based on the way her face feels, all contorted and ugly.

"I didn't even want to be a fucking pilot," Cyclone doesn't know if she is speaking to him anymore, or if the words are meant for her half empty glass. Hell, the way she speaks them they could be meant for the universe, for Khaos, for the air itself. There's a chip on that glass too, in the smooth side if of it, where it tapers down. He watches as Monsoon rubs her fingertip over it again and again and again.

"What did you want to do?" The question is leaving Cyclone's lips before he can stop it, common sense kicking in too slow. He is kicking himself.

Then, her thumb is stopping.

"I wanted to be a RIO," The glass is lifted to her lips again, her eyes rolling at the mere thought, "I wanted to fly with my Dad,"

The laughter that leave Monsoon's lips is dry as autumn air. Her lips crack too, under the stretch of her half hearted smile- one that holds no joy, it's all lukewarm and apathetic. He watches the skin of her lips crack and separate- it looks painful, and Cyclone has to fight not to grimace at the sight. Blood slowly begins to leak through the new flesh wound, bright red as it crests over the fullness of her bottom lip. He remembers watching the same thing happen to Maverick in the back of a helicopter as the wind whipped around them. But then, Maverick wore a truly joyous smile, one that rounded out his cheeks with a rosy hue that went deeper than the wind burn.

Then it hits Cyclone like a ton of bricks- like pulling 6 G's in a fucking barrel roll. Mitchell. This girl in front of him, this broken, fatherless girl is Pete Michell's kid. As if Cyclone needed another reason to hate the reckless man.

Beau wants to punch Pete Michell so hard that the only thing the man can make out in his field of vision is stars. Either the ones in the sky as he is planted with his back in the dirt, or the ones that would no doubt sparkle behind his eyelids. He wants to watch as the other man bleeds from the nose, the lip, the inside of his mouth. Cyclone can almost see the way the blood would pool in the spaces between Maverick's too white teeth, turning them a sickly vermilion. He would take a little too much pride watching the blood drip out of the corner of Pete's mouth, or down the crest of his chin.

Hell, Pete Michell, bloody, is a justified sight in Cyclone's book.

But that wouldn't help her right now. So Cyclone takes a breath, calming the flames of anger, of Hades that often lick at his legs, at his hands, whenever he so much as thinks about Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

He's a bastard, that much is for sure. And it doesn't seem that Monsoon needs reminding of that fact.

"Well, kid," Beau is hunting, hurting for the right words, "If it's not wrong of me to say- your talents would have been wasted as a fucking RIO, especially for that son of a bitch," That gets Monsoon chuckling. She wants to ask if her grandmother was really that bad, but she doesn't make the joke. Though the laugh sounds a bit strangled as it untangles from the dense pain in her chest, Cyclone is happy to hear it. Something small swells in his heart at the sound.

Somewhere, deep in the cavernous spaces of his soul, a broken part of him feels like a father for the first time in years, even if it isn't exactly proper and the woman in front of him isn't his kid. Cyclone feels like a father, not even in a pseudo sense of the word, but truly like a father, and the feeling warms him from the inside out. It overtakes his whole body, leaving him almost buzzing.

Now it's his turn to chuckle. It's sour with pain and longing, but it's still there. Like joy is trying to crawl it's way out, lukewarm and dripping wet.

"Well, Admiral, sir," Monsoon's voice is a little lighter now, sweeter maybe. Cyclone is watching as she's pulling her coat over her shoulders, "Thank you for the favor, and the drink,"

She's nodding her head in the direction of the half full glass still dripping with condensation.

"Thank you for remembering them with me, too," They share a knowing smile, it's a little broken but it is still warm. Again, it's one of those I won't say anything if you won't looks shared between the pair. They lock eyes one last time before Monsoon is turning on her heel, ready to head right out of the front door.

For just a second Cyclone wonders if Monsoon will shudder with relief in the same way the new Top Gun recruits usually do, or if something as simple as that will effect such a skilled pilot. He wonders if anyone will be there for her on graduation day, or if she will be stuck alone in the seas of families and friends- just like he was all those years ago.

I won't say anything if you won't. Yeah, that's not a chance he's willing to take.

"Wait," Cyclone calls after Monsoon, his voice a little too loud and not at all hesitant enough. Monsoon chances a look back, confusion written into the furrow of her brows. He becons he back with a wave of his hand. Cyclone pulls a business card from his front pocket. "I am going TDY, but I should be back for your graduation," The words don't make sense to Monsoon, and neither does the card that he's presenting her between his two fingers. She is cocking her head to the side again, eyebrows furrowed. Cyclone tries to not notice how much she looks like her father.

He notices anyway.

"Email me, remind me of the date, and I'll be there," He is presenting her the card again with a shake of his wrist. Then, she reaches out, grabbing it with nervous fingers.

"Oh, uh-" There are new tears forming in Monsoon's eyes at the words, the card now swimming in her vision. "Thank you, sir,"

"Oh, better yet," Cyclone plucks the card from her fingertips, a move that may have been considered crass but Monsoon can't help but find a little bit funny. Cyclone quickly scribbles down a phone number in messy loops of blue ink, the numbers taking up a little too much room on the back side of the card. Then, he blows on it carefully to make sure the ink won't smudge before handing the card back out to her in the same manner as before.

"Text me the reminder, so it doesn't get lost in my email," Cyclone's smile is so kind and there is a ribbon of hope, a glimmer, really, shinning through the lightest parts of his irises. Monsoon can barely hold back her tears at the sight, and so the card becomes the most interesting thing in the room, held between her shaking fingertips. "You deserve to have a parent there, kid,"

Those are the last words they share that night. They don't need to say anything else. After all, how do you explain the want to stand in as a lost family member? Beau would never admit just how much he's dying for a kid to support, to cheer on and celebrate. Monsoon knows the feeling too, the want to be a daughter who isn't seen as an inconvenience, a burden.

The next time they see each other, Cyclone is sitting in the front row at her Top Gun graduation, a small bouquet of calla lilies on his lap. There is a proud smile on his face and the moment Monsoon sees it there are tears in her eyes. She wonders if this is the feeling she had been missing out on, a father's pride, his love. She tries not to dwell on it, even as walks across that stage.

When the pair meet in the crowd, Cyclone doesn't hesitate to pull her into a hug, one that may not have been professional or regulated, but he feels a weight come off her shoulders the moment he pulls her in. He feels a little more whole too. The hug is short, quick, really, but there are tears in both of their eyes when they pull back.

Cyclone has so much pride for her, and God, Monsoon can feel it. From the way he beams at her to the way he shoves a camera into the hands of his battle buddy, tucking her under his arm. Both clad in dress uniform, posing for the camera as she holds the flowers against her chest to try and quell the beating of her heart. They both sport tears in their eyes, cheeks round and plump red as they smile too wide.

That photo makes onto his desk a week later, displayed in a beautiful mahogany frame.

USS Stennis. Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Four Years before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

The first time Monsoon calls him Pops, it's an accident. She got shipped out to an aircraft carrier somewhere in the Pacific. The tour is lonely. She doesn't know the team, the group who have been stationed there for the last six months, and they weren't overly keen on the 'new girl'. Monsoon made it through three months before she started to feel like a part of the team. It's a conscious choice, really, to keep working at fitting in. But in the end that team, those people, they aren't her family and they aren't going to remember her after she ships back stateside.

Emails to and from Cyclone kept her going, as he reassured her that life on the carrier isn't easy on anyone. He urges her to try and make better friends with those who hold a more permanent position on the vessel, so she does her best to take the newbies under her wing. If she wasn't welcomed, that was out of her control, but she can sure as hell make sure that the newbies are.

The plan starts off a little rough, the new sailors unsure of the overly friendly Lieutenant amongst the standoffish seasoned crew of the vessel. But days turn to weeks, trust is earned and the long days and nights onboard get easier to swallow.

Then, Cyclone gets shipped out to the carrier for a briefing. He can't help the rumble of excitement that tracks through him. He might get to see Monsoon, his kid, and he's going to do everything in his power to track her down on board. 

There is too much joy on his features as he touches down on the carrier. Too much joy for the briefing he is getting ushered into. It drags on longer than necessary as they hash and rehash out plans for missions. He knows he should care, he really does, but it's not like people's lives are on the line this mission. It's all practice runs and jet maintenance, and how could anyone expect him to focus when his kid is on the same vessel and he is just fucking sitting there. Cyclone barely sits still, knowing the clock is ticking down on his time aboard and if this meeting goes on any longer than planned he is going to miss his chance to see Monsoon.

Around suppertime, Monsoon is heading to the canteen, desperate for some sort of nourishment. It has been a long day, trial after trial, and thankfully for her, she's fairing better than some of her other wingmen. At least she hasn't puked over the side of the carrier since her first week aboard.

She guides one of the newer pilots, Story, down the stairs from the flight deck, her stomach rumbling as they go. The new Lieutenant on board hot on her heels as they make their way down the stairs.

"I know, Story, but you're going to get through this," Monsoon's voice is low as they wind their way through the tight hallways of the lower decks. "You're a good pilot, there is nothing you can't do. So what if you need a little more practice. That's why we're out here, right?"

The younger man hums in agreement, disappointment scribbled all over his face. They are both coated in sweat, Monsoon's hair sticking to her sweat soaked skin. She craves a shower almost as much as she craves food. Her body is weighed down with flight fatigue as she drags her feet.

The halls of the ship begin to smell more and more like hot biscuits and butter the closer they get to the mess hall. Their stomach's rumble in unison at the smell wafting down the hallway. Monsoon is rounding the corner with her front turned towards Story, not bothering a glance in the direction her feet are heading. A second later, her back meets a hard body, a grunt coming out of her mouth at the impact.

Story goes white at the sight of his new friend running straight into an Admiral. Monsoon doesn't like the look on his face, he looks like he's just seen a ghost, or maybe prophesied a murder. So she turns around slowly, so, so slowly. Her eyes are scrunched as she turns. There is already an apology on her lips as Monsoon peeks to see just exactly who she just ran into.

Eyes go wide, and smiles break out over their faces.

The need for food, a hot shower, and sleep dissipate from her body as she looks up at the man in front of her, joy overtaking.

"Pops!" The name comes out a little too quick, catching them both of guard. Monsoon's cheeks flush dark with embarrassment, realizing what she just said and who she just said it to. Without warning, Cyclone is pulling Monsoon into his chest, wrapping her into a warm, tight hug, just the kind of hug a Dad would give.

"Hey Kiddo,"

TAG LIST

@its-the-pilot

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[maverick-wingman]

Broken Skies (Bradley Bradshaw x Mitchell! Reader) Chapter 1

Note: I apologize for the long long wait. I was really lacking motivation and just on a long writer's block for the past few months. But here is Chapter 1 for Broken Skies. The Sneak Peak is linked below for those that have not read it yet. And also thank you @justabigassnerd and @callsign-dexter for motivating me to write more! ❤️

This is a redo of my Bradley Bradshaw Part 1. This is more of a prequel rather than a sneak peek this time. Mel - “one who is fearless and daring.” Canon characters are out of character. Iceman will be healthy in this fic. 

Warnings: Nothing big, maybe angst, other than a brief mention of death, and military inaccuracies. NOT grammar/spelling checked. Some switching between first names and callsigns.

Masterlist | Sneak Peek | Chapter 1

In the room with Cyclone and Warlock, Maverick looked at the screen and saw 2 very familiar faces. Cyclone looked at Maverick and asked, “Is there a problem, Captain?” Maverick looks at him, “You know there is sir.” Cyclone signed and zoomed in on your picture, “Lieutenant Mitchell, callsign Mel, one of the best pilots I have seen in years. She was top of her class. Two confirmed air-to-air kills. You must be very proud. Captain.” Maverick smiles, “I am, sir. I’m proud of her every day.”  

Maverick was indeed proud. Starting from the second you were born, he knew you would be a mini him the second he got called for a parent-teacher meeting for you not following directions and being a bit rebellious. There was also the first time he took you on your first little joyride, instead of being scared like  most people that are thousands of feet up in the air going hundreds of miles per hour, you were so excited. You had the time of your life. You especially loved when he did aerobatics. You kept on asking him to do another one, he often wondered how you never got dizzy or felt nauseous. As you grew older, you went on to be just like him.  If not, maybe even a little better. Now here you are, getting called back to Top Gun to be a possible candidate for a special detachment. This isn’t like the past missions you’ve been on. This is life or death. He knows there is a chance someone isn’t coming back. 

Cyclone then zoomed in on another person. Rooster. “Bradley Bradshaw aka Rooster. I understand you flew with his old man. What was his call-sign again?” “Goose, sir” “Tragic what happened.” Warlock cuts in defending Maverick. All Maverick could do was nod. Memories of what happened replaying in his mind.

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“Dad?” You saw your dad sitting by the bar alone. You thought he’s in the desert working on the Death Star. Why is he here?  He turned around and you smiled excitedly going over and hugging him as tight as possible. You felt him hug back just as tight. “Hey sweetheart.” You always loved the daddy-daughter hugs. It made you feel safe and relaxed. You haven’t seen him in person in almost a year. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you’re supposed to be somewhere in the desert.” You saw the look he gave and you couldn’t help but grin. “You pissed off another admiral, didn’t you?” He chuckled at your response. “You could say that.” You sat next to him. “So… what are you doing here at North Island? Did Uncle Ice tell you I was here?”  You asked him. 

“Well uh…. in a manner of speaking.” You noticed the look your dad had. There was worry in his eyes. You hadn’t seen that look in a long time. “You’re here for the detachment… aren’t you? That’s why you’re here.” He gave you a look. You knew the answer. “How bad is it going to be?” You looked to your dad. “I can’t say too much yet, but … this is something no one’s ever seen.” All you could do was nod. Before you can react you felt him rub your shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. You’re the best fighter pilot I know.” You let out a little chuckle, “don’t let Uncle Ice hear you say that.” You heard him let out some chuckles.

You talked with your dad for a little longer to catch up on everything. He told you that the Kazansky’s invited you both over for dinner tomorrow night. You were excited, as you have seen your Uncle Ice and Aunt Sarah in a while. You heard your name being called, looking over you saw Jake and Javy calling you over. You heard your dad’s voice, “go on, go catch up with them.” You looked over to him. “Are you sure?” “I’m sure. We have plenty of time to catch up more.” You smiled and hugged him one last time before going over. 

“What’s Pops doing here?” Jake asked after pulling you into a hug. You didn’t want to ruin the surprise. “He’s here visiting old friends.” You responded as Javy pulled you in for a side hug. 

As you talked, you caught up with Phoenix, you met some new members: Bob, who was so sweet, Payback and Fanboy who both were really nice, although you felt a little competitiveness between them and Jake and Javy. Jake would not stop teasing Bob, you had to nudge him a few times hoping he’d stop messing with the guy. 

Maverick watched as his little girl bonded with her teammates. Despite Jake's reputation he trusted him that he wouldn’t leave his daughter behind, but he is unsure if he would do the same for the rest of the team.

You looked over and saw a familiar face entering the Hard Deck. Bradley Bradshaw.

Bradley walked over to the group. “Bradshaw.” “Hangman… you look good” “Well, I am good Rooster, I’m very good. In fact, I’m too good to be true.” Hangman responds, smirking. Bradley then looked over to you. “Mel.” “Rooster.” “Why am I not surprised you’re here?” You rolled your eyes, scoffing at his remark. You knew what he was thinking, he still believed the reason  you made it this far is because of your dad and uncle. “Well who else did you expect?”  

Before Bradley could say another word, Jake cuts in, “you’re just jealous Bradshaw, admit it, you will never fly like Mel here. She takes risks unlike a certain someone. She’ll make a great mission leader, but anyone that follows you will just run out of fuel. Waiting for the right moment that never comes.” You felt Jake’s arm snake around your shoulders. 

Jake is your best friend, you could say. Sure, during training he would leave his wingman and fly off, but during the missions he was never like that. At least not to you. He saved your  life; that’s how he got his first confirmed air to air kill. If it wasn’t for him, you would not be standing here right now.

Bradley suddenly felt a ping of jealousy growing inside him. Since when were you and Hangman so close? But Bradley being Bradlet, he chose to ignore it. “And anyone that follows you will just end up in a grave.” That ticked you off a little. You wished Jake would let you tell everyone what really happened that day. You don’t get why Jake wants to keep it a secret, he loves to show off. Only a few people know the exact details. 

“They’re on me! I can’t shake them!” you said with a panicking voice. With an enemy aircraft chasing after you at full speed. Trying different maneuvers, you dodged as many bullets that you could. That’s when you heard a beeping sound; the enemy got a lock on you. Just as  you started accepting your fate, there was an explosion sound. You looked over and saw the enemy fighter jet blowing up into pieces. “You owe me a drink, Mel.” Y/N looked over and saw Hangman giving her a grin. He just saved your life, for once not living up to his callsign.

After that, it was Hangman and Mel. Jake and Y/N. You became best friends and each other’s wingperson.

Other than Rear Admiral Jackson, Javy, Maverick and Iceman, no one knew it was Jake that saved you. Jake wanted to keep it a secret. With the help from Iceman, no one knew what really happened. Because the mission only needed 2 pilots, it made it easier to hide the truth.

Maverick was watching the whole scene play out in front of him, feeling the guilt bubble inside him knowing he was the reason his daughter and Bradley are no longer friends. He remembers how close they were as kids, how they never left each other’s side. He hopes this mission will bring them together again.

The night went on, he ended up being broke after not realizing the rules at Penny’s bar. Jake and the others had the joy of “throwing” him out of the bar. You knew it was all fun and games. You knew your dad took a liking to him after he saved your life that day. Even you let out a little laugh watching it all play out. 

You heard a familiar tune starting to play in the background, you looked over to the piano and saw Bradley sitting there. The tune that your uncle Goose, Bradley’s dad always plays. You remembered how you and Bradley would sit on the piano with your dad, Uncle Goose and Aunt Carole gathered around singing “Great Balls of Fire” together. Your eyes wandered around and noticed your dad outside staring towards where Bradley is. You knew he misses them too. 

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

You sat next to Jake and Javy waiting for the debrief to start. You had this feeling that something was going to happen today and it was not the good kind of feeling. You know Bradley will not be happy knowing who the instructor for the detachment is going to be. You also know he will be mad that you didn’t warn him. But he has no right to feel that way. After all, you two were basically on no speaking terms. Cyclone’s voice disrupted your thoughts. “Good morning aviators.” 

At morning debriefing, Cyclone and Warlock went over the details of this mission. Just from hearing the details about what is going to happen, you knew this was going to be a detachment like no other. As he introduced who the instructor was going to be, you knew exactly who they were talking about, even though you already found out last night. You only know one person that fits the description so perfectly. 

You couldn’t help but look over to Bradley, wondering how he is going to react when he sees your dad. You can see him tense up as he sees your dad walk in. This is going to be a very long day. Bradley made eye contact with you and he was not happy, just as you had predicted minutes ago.  After the debrief, you and everyone else waited to be selected to go up in the air. First ones up were you, Phoenix, Bob, and Rooster. 

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

As you walked towards your fighter jet when you heard your name being called. “Why didn’t you tell me he was going to be the instructor?” You knew he was going to ask this. “How am I supposed to tell you if all we ever do is argue when we talk?” “Yea, well you’re the one that always starts it” “Are you serious Bradley? Look at us. Besides, would it really make a difference if I did?” “Yea, it actually would have.” 

As the training session went on, no one has been able to get a lock on Maverick. not even you. You were close but he is always steps ahead. And thanks to the little bet, everyone was punished with 200 pushups.

Now it is time for Phoenix, Bob, Hangman, and Roosters turn. You listened to the radio as Jake asked Bradley some personal questions. There was one secret you never told Jake, it was the exact details about you, your dad, and Bradley. All he knows is you and Bradley had an argument, he left and that was that. 

You heard your dad’s voice. Encouraging Bradley to take a little risk instead of playing it safe. Jake’s voice came in warning them about getting below the hard deck level amd telling Rooster to take the shot. Soon through the radio, you head the alerts going off telling them to pull up. You are holding your breath at this point. No matter how upset you were at Bradley, you didn’t want to lose him and your dad.  A few seconds later, you heard your dad’s voice. He got a lock on Bradley. What on earth were they thinking?

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

You stormed up to Bradley angry. “What was that Bradshaw?! Are you trying to get kicked out?” “Oh like you care, you probably would love to see me off this mission.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It’s like he never changed. “I worked hard to get here and you know it!” “Well not everyone is lucky enough to have their dad and the Commander of the Pacific Fleet as their teacher!” He snapped back. You froze, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth. Not wanting to continue this anymore, you shook your head and walked away in silence. You knew if you stayed longer, you would end up saying something you’d regret, and possibly escalating the argument.

“Why are you such close friends with Hangman? You know what type of person he is!” You stopped in your tracks. Why did he change the conversation to this? Was he jealous? You turned around facing him once again, letting out your anger. “You’re right, I know what type of person he is. You don’t! You let your judgments get clouded too easily, you’ll just assume the worst in people!” You saw the look Bradley had on his face, hearing him let out a scoff, “all he ever did was leave his wingman behind! Everyone knows that! Why won’t you believe me?!” 

You don’t know what came over yourself. You’ve kept it in for years. Coming up with reasons why Bradley cut off contact with you, why he barely said anything to you during your time at Top Gun, why he treated you like you were nothing. He didn’t even believe you told him that you had nothing to do with his application being pulled. And now all of a sudden he cares about who you’re friends with. You knew what Hangman was like to others. That’s just a character he built up; he doesn’t want to seem weak or soft, easy to push around. Sure he messes around during training, but when it comes to the real thing, he takes things seriously. 

“You want to know why? Fine. He never left me hanging! He didn’t cut off contact with me for something I didn’t do!  He trusted me! He never assumed I got in just because of my last name! He didn’t hurt me the way you did!”

You were mad at your dad too, especially at first. But after a lot of begging, he finally told you why he pulled Bradley’s application; you understood, it was an extremely difficult decision. Adding on to it, it was his best friend’s dying wish.

You quickly walked away going to the locker rooms. You heard Bradley call out your name, but you chose to ignore it. Today did not turn out the way you had expected. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since the first time you saw Bradley in years and he is still the same.

Taglist: @alluringshawn @anurst @urmomssidehoesposts @sarahjoestewy-blog @adoringsebstan @70spadfoot @khaylin27

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[jackiequick]

I’m Already Gone | Top Gun Maverick Fanfic 📄

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw & Jennifer Mitchell

Summary: It happened in a blink, it happened in a flash, as that night ran cold and old as she had ever seen. What happened that night the papers were pulled? Heartbreak.

Timeline: Post Top Gun—Pre Top Gun Maverick

Characters mentioned: Pete Maverick Mitchell, Tom Kazansky, Carole Bradshaw, Dane Bradshaw, Austin Mitchell and etc

Song inspired fic: Already Gone by Sleeping At Last

——

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

In tears.

Sore throats from all the screaming and crying at 3 in the morning.

But it did.

Here’s what happened…

…it was a cold decision based night at The North Island. Pete was out pulling an all nighter, Austin was at Dane’s house doing god knows what and Jennifer was alone. At home, getting calls every few hours from her father to see how she was doing.

To be honest, she was doing fine. It was a rare occasion for the house to be quiet that late at night, usually there was some kind of noise being heard across the halls. Either from the boys or one of her friends.

But tonight, it was pure silence. You can hear the windows cracking from the drips of water outside, the sound of the wooden floor creek every once in a while, and the rumbling of car engines driving past the streets right outside her door. In the living room, she can hear it all too well.

It felt like a odd film she was placed in but she didn’t expect to be thrown in.

Her one thoughts were about Bradley. She knew he was sorta stressing the past few days about getting into the academy and proceeded in his dreams of becoming a pilot. She knew from stories that he always wanted to fly, just like his father Goose and unofficial uncle Maverick.

But Jennifer also knew the concept of events and consequences coming into that role. Deployment across the country, flying into dangerous territory, long distance trips from home and safe housing wasn’t always the best for pilots. Usually in secure parking areas but still.

A part of her wasn’t sure if she was ready to give that up yet, not having Bradley around everyday.

She didn’t know if she wanted that for herself either. She loved the idea of being in the air, cool tricks and taking a knowledgeable look at the world from the cockpit of your plane, it was a rush you can only imagine. But she loved being on the groundwork for things too, surrounded by family and friends. Teammates.

Jenny decided that whatever happens with that paperwork, she will be happy for him. It will hurt to see him leave her to go fly out into the world but she loves him either way…

Jennifer cleared her thoughts turning down the lights on the first floor and headed upstairs to her bedroom, free falling onto the mattress as she climbed underneath the covers, deciding to get some rest. It was late. Midnight. And she was still awake. So laying her eyelids shut for now, she curled up against the pillows and slowly nodded off.

~~~~

Remember all the things we wanted

Now all our memories, they're haunted

We were always meant to say goodbye

~~~~

The next moment happened in a flash, gently being awakened by the sound of footsteps on the first floor and small grunts. She couldn’t tell if that was her father’s footsteps or not, but just for precaution Jenny swiftly escaped the bed and grabbed the baseball bat from behind her door as she walked downstairs.

Even though she was groggy from sleep she held the baseball bat in her grip tightly, ready to swing at the figure she found in the kitchen sipping a glass of water. It confused her as she squeezed her eyes a couple of time, trying to wake herself up swinging a hit at the tall fellow who ducked.

It took Jenny a second to realize who it was, hearing a gulp a second later.

“Bradley?!” She asked, lowering her bat a bit.

“Yes? Who else do you think it is?” He exclaimed, sounding annoyed.

“S-sorry..w-what in heavens are you doing here it..it’s 2 in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Don’t worry I’ll be gone and out of your hair soon.”

“No? You came here for something..what was it?”

“I was looking for you and Maverick.”

“Why? What did i do?”

~~~~

Even with our fists held high

It never would have worked out right, yeah

We were never meant for do or die

~~~

Instead of saying a word, Bradley handed Jenny a slip of paper that seemed to be a bit wet and crumbled at the corners. It was at the same time, she noticed the look on his face. His hair was wetter than expected, patched of droplets over the shoulders of his shirt as his sweater lay on the chair next to the kitchen table and he was wearing sweatpants.

He had small bags under his eyes. His eyes were dropped onto her hands, as if he wanted to hold her.

To tell the truth, Bradley was craving from physical touch from her in the smallest way, shape or form. He has been a wreck all of a sudden after recycling that letter from the bin at home, that he grumped and threw away. He didn’t want to believe the words said on that paper, nor the fact that his suspicions were correct.

But a part of him told him they were.

He watched as Jenny read the letter, her expression changing every once in a millisecond from shock to sorrow all wrapped into one. He noticed her biting her bottom lip for a moment, as if she’s trying to take it all in with a scoff. A hint of a ever so tiny half smile was tugged at her lips, it was quickly changed but it was there.

He saw it.

Finally after a deep breath of silence waters, she looked up at him, her fingertips playing with the edges of the paper.

“I’m sorry Bradley..” She said in a soft whisper, as if she was gonna wake up a dog within the house, “..I know how much you wanted to fly..”

“I can’t do that now..” He replied with a soft haze voice, looking away for a second.

“You can always apply again, right? I mean, dad can pull a strings to have your application be seen early or maybe Ice do it?…”

“No. Don’t even mention Maverick.”

“Brad, honey, it’s not the end of the world. You will get other chances..i know you will.”

“Not with Maverick around.”

“W-what?”

~~~

I didn't want us to burn out

I didn't come here to hurt you now

I can't stop

~~~

He sighed and scoffed, “Jen, baby, don’t play dumb with me right now. You may be saying all of this but i don’t believe you. We both know how much you want me to stay here, we discuss it before!”

“That was a while ago! Yes it will take some time getting used to..b-but I wouldn’t stop you from flying!..wait you think i had something to do with this?” She asked, soften her gaze at the question.

“Did you? I mean it wouldn’t be the first time you pulled a stunt like that to protect me.”

“No. No, no, no! I-i would not do that. You can trust me on knowing that I wouldn’t go behind your back for that.”

“Jen..you are the closest person here to know if something that was up..d-did you have a feeling this would happen?”

“..I honestly don’t know. But you don’t get to come into my house in the middle of the night and accuse me for such a thing.” 

“Did you know that Mav would do this?”

“I..no. H-he would’ve pulled my papers too..”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he does or, he already did it and you just don’t know it yet! Maverick Mitchell has always been shown to be my biggest supporter but all of a sudden he pulls something like this? And the fact that i don’t know if i should believe you right now is what ticks me off.”

“Bradley wait..”

“I..you didn’t think i saw that little smile as you read the paper? Huh?!”

~~~

I want you to know

That it doesn't matter

Where we take this road

Someone's gotta go

~~~

Jen wouldn’t admit it but she did smile reading the whole thing, she didn’t want him to leave just yet especially at this young of an age. Tears slowly being welcomed into the corner of her eyes came despite on request.

But she wanted him to fly, enjoy his life even if she left to pick up the pieces at home.

“Okay, maybe i did smile, huh? Cause i don’t want to see you go or worse, have you slip away from my fingers the second you get the green light to do so?!” She yelled, as her temper started to reach up her back.

“I’m not going to leave you!” He replies back, with furrow eyebrows.

“You don’t know that! Austin’s planning on flying like dad, Dane wants to go into engineering planes and high tech jets! You’ve been ready to fly past the 7 seas since you were 8…i just thought maybe..maybe this was a sign that we will be alright..that i don’t have to say goodbye, yet..so yeah, blame me. Go ahead!”

“..blame you?”

“Mhm. Blame me..since you need someone to yell at..”

“Jen..i don’t..I don’t know what to think, okay? B-but I’m..The Navy is my dream, i always wanted to fly..but I can’t wrap my head around not knowing if I actually really got a chance to be there..and i want you there..with me.”

“Then why have you been so busy and in a hurry to get out?..but..not once have you mentioned about it was gonna be us there..just you. You alone, Brad.”

“It always occurred to me that you would be there..”

“It occurred to you that i would just be there with you?! W-what I didn’t want to?..i love you, Bradley, i do and I understand why you feel this way about everything but..there has to be something else right? Why are you in a hurry to get out?”

~~~

And I want you to know

You couldn't have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I'm already gone

~~~

Bradley was silent at the question being repeated. He looked down, as his eyes finally watered. The sound of his sniffles could be heard as clear as day.

She can only guess the reason.

It’s been a less than a hectic year since his mother died. Carole Bradshaw death recked everyone. Leaving a painful scar in the family’s overall built, where it still felt a fresh opened wound.

She was like a mother to Jenny. Treating her with as much love, care and compassion than anyone can ever imagine. Hugs and kisses among all of the kids as her smile can light up the whole night sky.

And her laughter bringing souls together in a lifespan, just wanting to dance around the room. From her sass, to her wit and gossipy cheer.

“..my parents.” Bradley simply said, almost choking on the words.

“..Goose and Carole..that’s why you fight to hurry and fly..to chance that wish to be there..in the there with them.” She answered, looking away.

“Is it bad..? Is it so bad i want to touch the clouds like my dad did and come home to your waiting arms?”

“No..it’s not. It’s a dream but..I don’t know how long i can take waiting for you to come home..w-what if you don’t come home? A-a-an-and i get a knock on the door from a solider with—”

“Don’t. Don’t finish that sentence, Jennifer. It’s not gonna happen! I will come home, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to take the risk to see the world and be a pilot. You know that right?”

She walked away from the kitchen and into the living room as she sighed, “Here we go again..”

“What?” He asked, followed behind her.

“Again with the whole pilot talk! I get that, you want to be like your father but there is more to life than just flying Bradley!”

~~~

Looking at you makes it harder

But I know that you'll find another

That doesn't always make you wanna cry

Started with a perfect kiss

Then we could feel the poison set in

Perfect couldn't keep this love alive

~~~

~~~

You know that I love you so

I love you enough to let you go

~~~

He raised an eyebrow and scoffed loudly, “You’re serious? If it was anyone else, i would say you’re possibly right but you’re father is Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. If anything you know better than anyone how important that is!”

“And what if it isn’t?!” She spin around and yelled back, with a glare having enough.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’m being serious!”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“No, you don’t get it. I understand you very well and i love you for everything you stand for..but what if it’s short lived? I can’t watch you die, Bradley..I understand you’re mad at my father, you’re more than hurt and you might not trust what I’m saying right now but a part of me knows I’m sure..”

“..w-what are you saying? That your right here and I’m wrong? Cause i do get it! And I’m more than mad right now, I’m furious but whatever happens next..that’s my decision to make, Jen. I need you to know that.”

“..okay. I’m just trying to protect you Bradley but I won’t be there when you yell in my dad’s face tomorrow for pulling your papers..i want you to be okay.”

~~~

I want you to know

That it doesn't matter

Where we take this road

Someone's gotta go

~~~

At this point, her eyes were patchy with tears and her nose was reddish as she watched his face changed.

They were both on two different ends of the slightly aggressive disagreement. The two each had their reasons and doesn’t matter how many times they had to repeat them, until they got a point.

It was late.

They have been screaming and yelling at one another.

Their eyes were puffy and throats were dry, sore even.

Yes, they both wanted to touch the sky from the seat of their cockpits but they their reason weather or not to do so. Of course Jennifer wanted to fly just as bad as he did. But her fears and experiences from the family held her back.

The long distance trips, deployment, people she cared about dying young and old, and the navy not always living up to their truth.

She looked down at her necklace Bradley gave her months back on Valentine’s Day as a present, taking a deep breath removing it from her grasp and watching his face as she did.

Bradley’s eye furrowed in fear, annoyance and grief. His eyes flickered between every single way but meeting her gaze. He gulped, as the finger he used to point at her dropped and hesitated to raise again.

He shook his head, blinking twice walking forward in strives as his face said it all. He reminded himself at that moment how much love and respect he had for her, realizing how he basically bashed her more than once.

He didn’t mean to be this way. But watching her remove that single piece of jewelry he gave her the year before his mother died, the one was supposed to be used as a promise to her.

Well, it hurt.

~~~

And I want you to know

You couldn't have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I'm already gone

I'm already gone

Already gone

You can't make it feel right

When you know that it's wrong

~~~

“W-what are you doing? J-Jen don’t. Please, don’t.” He said, standing in front of her glancing at the clock, “..i love you. Don’t do this.”

She sucked in a breath and held out the necklace, “I know you do. But I can’t hold you back. As much as we love one another, and will always be in each other’s lives..right now, we can’t.”

“I want you!”

“You want to fly.”

“I want both!”

“You want to have it all but it can’t happen right now. I can’t be the one holding you back..”

“Jen please..I’m begging you. I’m sorry, we can work it out!”

“Not with your anger and pride taking over..”

“T-think about this! You’re making a mistake here, Jen. I can’t let you be gone.”

“I’m already gone.”

“You’ll regret this!”

“And so will you.”

~~~

I'm already gone

Already gone

There's no moving on

So I'm already gone

Already gone

Already gone

Ooh, oh

Already gone

Already gone

Already gone, yeah

~~~

Bradley didn’t say another word, closing the gap between them as he looped a finger underneath her chin and pressed a kiss onto her cheek.

He felt a salty tear run down her cheek and reach his fingertips wiping the other way. The other hand took the necklace from grasping palm, fumbling with the chain for a moment.

Jennifer wrapped her around his middle and pressed her face against his neck huffing, holding back a sob as she ran her fingers across his golden brown curls.

She kissed his cheek and then forehead gazing softly into his eyes. He half smiled, leaning into her touch and hummed.

She didn’t want to say goodbye either, but she could bare to witness this any further than what thoughts appeared in her heard. The hint of his cologne entered her nose as she sighed deeply.

Both didn’t want to pull away from another’s light grip.

~~~~

Remember all the things we wanted

Now all our memories, they're haunted

We were always meant to say goodbye

I want you to know

That it doesn't matter

Where we take this road

Someone's gotta go

~~~~

Bradley was the first to pull away noticing the white letters on the coffee table, one being addressed to her as he picked it up.

He signaled for her to open it. He knew she didn’t like to open mail late at night but he couldn’t leave without knowing she got in or not.

Either way, he will comfort her.

She hesitated for a moment, shaking her head but her actions speaker louder than words as she ripped opened the letter to expect something different yet familiar.

Her eyes ran across the page, handing it to Bradley as she gasped, hovering a hand over mouth. He read it quickly, eyesore scanning the sheet of paper to only sigh.

Same as him. She didn’t exactly get in.

The only thing he did was held Jenny in his arms, rubbing her shoulder as she let out a sob she was holding back. Tears rolled down his own face, baring his face into her hair mumbling a few things as they both sucked onto the couch.

No words were said, just soften noises escaped their lips. Resting her head against his chest, as he hummed staring at the wall.

Once again, their throats were sorely lacking as their faces remained dried up with fallen tear stains.

3 am.

They have been doing this for an entire hour.

Closed to almost 3:29am when Bradley stood up from the couch, resting a blanket across Jenny’s body.

Her eyes were nodding off as she whispered a soft, “..i love you..”

“I love you too..” He replied pressing a kiss to her forehead, “..get some rest.”

“You too..please?”

“I will..”

Without a second later, he walked out of the house with a small sigh and looked up at the sky that shined only a few stairs.

She reached over to the small lamp turning it off as her eyelids finally dropped, nuzzling against the throw pillow with a slight sigh.

~~~

And I want you to know

You couldn't have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I'm already gone

~~~

~~~

~~~

-> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the fic tell me what did you think about in the comments below.

-> Remember to like, share and reblog for more stuff like this!

-> Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @topgun-imagines @gcthvile @letsgotothefantasyworlds-blog @t-nd-rfoot @djs8891 @missstrawbs2001 @hardballoonlove @hangmanbrainrot @theloveoftoms @mallowbee4 @halesfavoriteharlot @rooster-84 @starkleila @buckysteveloki-me @ximehs and etc

[ofstoriesandstardust]

winner takes all

or: How Ice became Rebel’s godfather

like father, like daughter masterlist

warnings: this takes place during the brief time Ice and Mav worked at Top Gun together, a little angsty, Mav doubts if he’s good enough for his daughter but it’s brief, icemav if you squint because i’ve got an agenda

word count: 1.3k

He raps on the door of his co-instructor’s office. "Ice.” 

The blond lifts his head from the paperwork he’s looking over, grinning when he sees him. “Hey Mitchell. Headed out for the day?” 

He nods, taking a tentative step into the room. “Yeah, I just had a quick question for you about my kiddo.” 

Ice chuckles, putting his pen into the holder on the desk. “How’s she doing?” 

Maverick shrugs. “Pretty good. Lost her first tooth yesterday, so we got a visit from the tooth fairy last night.” 

“Good for the little rascal. Well, what’s your question?” 

“Do you want- Well, would you- Would you be her godfather?” 

He finds himself unable to keep Ice’s eyes, falling to the clock behind him as it falls silent in the room. The longer Ice takes to respond, each second ticking by, he scrambles to pull himself together, to apologize for asking, to forget about it-

“What would she need a godfather for? She’s got you.” Ice says, standing up from his desk. He shrugs, averting his gaze to the floor. 

“You know, I just- I just want to know that if something happens to me-”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you.” Ice says firmly, a finality in his tone he usually can’t argue with. 

He continues on like Ice didn’t say anything. “-and I don’t come back down, she’s got someone on the ground to take care of her and I can’t really put that kind of ask on Carole, not after-” He stops, swallowing. “Well, she loves you anyways, so you felt like the obvious choice.” 

“Where’s her mother? She shouldn’t she be around for this kind of thing?” He says with a wave of his hand. 

That earns Ice his gaze, scowling as he raises his head. “I hope Natalie never comes back into the picture, because if she does it’s going to be because she’s trying to take my daughter from me.” 

Ice is silent again and Maverick watches the minutes tick by, growing more uncomfortable with the time that passes every second. 

“Look, don’t feel pressured to say yes or anything, you don’t even have to- to think about it.” He pauses as his eyes flicker back to Ice, the tall man frowning. “Actually, forget I asked.” 

-

The doorbell rings. 

“Brad, that’s Ice, would you go grab it?” He asks, the vegetables sizzling on the stove. The boy nods, slipping off the chair, Hardy Boys book in hand. It’s only a few more minutes before Ice appears in the kitchen doorway, Bradley’s nose still tucked into his book. 

“Guess, I’m not worth saying hi to anymore.” He chuckles. 

Maverick shakes his head. “Don’t mind him, he’s had his head in that thing since we left the library this afternoon.” 

“Uncle Icee!” His kid screeches and Ice turns, barely catching the toddler barricading into his knee. Ice reaches down, picking her up as a wide grin spreads across his face. 

“Hi kiddo. You’re awfully dirty.” He glances up from the food on the stove to see his kid covered in dirt. Her hands, which look oddly sticky, make messy work of pushing her hair out of her face. 

“Playing pirate outside with Batman.” He hears the dog in question come in through the sliding glass door of the Bradshaw home, Carole following. She appears in the kitchen doorway a moment later. 

“Hi Tom.” She says, offering him a warm smile. 

“Hi Carole. How are you?” 

“Good. Mav, you're burning the broccoli. Move.” She grabs the spatula out of his hand, nudging him away from the stove and he follows, leaning up against the opposite countertop as Ice watches his kid chatter excitedly, an enthusiastic smile on his face he nods along. 

As Carole finishes the food, his daughter tugs Ice to the table, demanding he sit right next to her. 

He quietly observes the way Ice goes willingly, the way Ice listens to everything she has to say, and even eats the broccoli off her plate so she doesn’t have to. 

“He give you an answer yet?” Carole whispers as they watch their kids help Ice clean up dinner, Ice insisting he do the dishes since they cooked for him. 

He shakes his head. “I wish he would. He’d be good for her.” 

Carole sighs, looking at him. “Not any better than you are for her, Mav.” He shrugs and Carole sighs again. “Oh c’mon Mav, that girl loves you and she would be lost without you.”

He tilts his head, conceding to her words. “She needs someone who can look after her and I can’t give her that. You know I don’t want to stay at Miramar-” 

“Mom! Can we have a sleepover?” Bradley asks as Ice lifts him up to sit on the counter next to his daughter. “Please! Tt’s Saturday and I want to stay up watching Scooby Doo cartons.” 

Carole shrugs. “Up to Mav.”

He sighs, shooting the woman a glare. “Why do I have to be the bad guy?” 

“Dad!” His daughter whines, pouting. He sighs as Ice chuckles, all knowing he folds anytime she makes those eyes at him. 

“Honey, you’re filthy.” 

She shrugs. “So?”

“So I’m not going to let you dirty up Carole’s house. Plus, I’m sure Ice wants to get out here.” 

“Don’t drag me into this Mitchell.” Ice says, pointing a soapy fork at him. 

“How about this? We go home and get you a bath and next Saturday you and Brad can have a sleepover then?” 

His daughter sighs, crossing her arms. “Fineee.”

-

There’s a sharp knock on his office door. “Mitchell.” 

He glances up from the box he’s packing. “Hey Ice.” 

“Hear you’re leaving.” 

He shrugs, avoiding eye contact with the man. “You know how it is, head in the clouds, all that.”

“I’ll do it.” 

He pauses, toy airplane Bradley had given him sitting heavy in his hand. “Do what?” 

“I’ll be her godfather.” 

He shakes his head, setting the plane down in the box. “You don’t gotta do that just cause I’m leaving Ice. She’s in good hands, Carole’s watching her. Bradley’s thrilled.” 

“You’re right that she needs someone on the ground looking out for her.” 

He shrugs, setting the lid on top of the box. “It’s still a huge ask. I shouldn’t have asked that of you.” 

“Do you not want me to be her godfather?” Ice says with a frown. 

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes remaining on the wooden desk. Finally, he sighs. “You’re good for her Ice. And she loves you so much.” 

“Maverick, I adore your daughter and I have ever since she dubbed me Uncle Icee at Goose’s funeral.” Ice takes a tentative step into the room. “But I am not her father and I would never take that from you.” 

“I know.” 

Because he does, knows Ice loves his kid, loves Bradley, but he would never overstep. 

But sometimes he wishes he would. Overstep, fight him for his daughter, because Lord knows Ice could give everything he can’t to his daughter. 

“Maverick, raising a kid isn’t just about being the best parent all of time. It's about doing right by your kids, making sure they’re growing up happy and loved and safe.” Ice takes another step closer to him. “Is she happy?” 

“She is.” 

“Is she safe?” 

“Of course.” 

“Is she loved?”

“Absolutely.” 

“Then you’re doing enough for your kid.” 

He gives the man a watery chuckle. “When’d you get so smart about all this parenting shit, huh?” 

Ice claps him on the back. “Gotta stay single to impart all my wisdom on to you.” Ice sighs, his hand falling from his back. “I’ll be her godfather on the condition that you do right by your kid in always coming home.” Ice fixes him with a stare. “Your daughter deserves to grow up with her father. Don’t lose yourself so much up there that you don’t come back down here.” 

Ice’s words stay with him the rest of his life. 

[hangmansgbaby]

Songbird P R O L O G U E

Masterlist

"This is what I call a target-rich environment." Maverick smiles as they walk through the bar, their white naval uniforms on.

"You live your life between your legs, Mav." Goose replies to him.

"Goose, even you could get laid in a place like this." Mav smiles patting his back 

"I'm telling you, I'd be happy to find a girl who'd talk dirty to me." Goose replies walking up to the bar counter. He looks up and spots a pilot from earlier. "Mav, you want to know who the best is? That's him. Iceman. That's the way he flies, ice-cold, no mistakes. Just wears you down. You get bored, frustrated, do something stupid, and he's got you." Goose points out taking a swig of his beer before turning around. "Hey, hey, Slider. Thought you wanted to be a pilot, man. What happened?" Goose asks, playing with Slider's badges.

"Goose, you're such a dickhead. Whose butt did you kiss to get in here?" Slider questions.

"Well, the list is long but distinguished." Goose jokes.

"Yeah, well, so is my johnson." Slider returns, downing a shot.

"So you're flying with Iceman?" Goose asks.

"It's Mr Iceman to you." Slider bounces back.

"Hey, Mother Goose. How's it going?" Iceman says, shaking hands with Goose.

"Good, Tom." Goose shakes before introducing Maverick. "This is Pete Mitchell. Tom Kazansky."

"Congratulations on Top Gun." Iceman replies, turning to Pete.

"Thank you." Peter shakes his hand.

"Sorry to hear about Cougar. He and I were like brothers in flight school. He was a good man." Tom tells him.

"Still is a good man." Pete says.

"Yeah, that's what I meant." Tom replies.

"Thought so."

"Say, you need any help?" Tom asks Pete.

"With what?" Pete asks.

"You figured it out yet?" Tom questions, a smile on his face.

"What's that?"

"Who's the best pilot?" Tom smiles.

"No, I think I can figure that one out on my own." Peter returns.

"I heard that about you. You like to work alone."

"Mav, you must've soloed under a lucky star? I mean, first the MiG, and then you guys slide into Cougar's spot."

"We didn't slide into Cougar's spot. It was ours, okay?" Goose interjects.

"Yeah, well, some pilots wait their whole career just to see a MiG up close. Guess you guys are lucky and famous?" Slider takes another shot.

"No, you mean notorious. I'll see you later." Tom tells Maverick and Goose before him and Slider walk away.

"You can count on it." Pete replies. 

"They were abused children." Goose tells Pete.

"We're gonna have a good time." Pete smiles, clinking bottles with Goose.

"Always." Goose smiles before both take a drink.

"Okay, I guess it's my turn, isn't it?" Maverick says as a couple of girls smile and wave at him and Goose.

"All right, the bet is $20." Goose directs.

"$20." Pete nods.

"Right. You have to have carnal knowledge of a lady this time on the premises." Goose gives Pete.

"On the premises." Pete looks across the bar to see a blonde woman sit down, he smiles in her direction.

"Come on, Mav. A bet's a bet." Goose pushes, spotting who Maverick is looking at.

"I don't know, it just... It just doesn't seem fair. For you, I mean. But..." Pete places his hand on Goose's shoulder. "...she's lost that loving feeling."

"She's lost... No, she hasn't."

"Yes, she has."

"She has not lost that..."

"Goose, she's lost it." Pete walks away picking up a microphone.

"Mav. Come on." Goose follows him. "I hate it when she does that. Shit."

"Excuse me, miss." Pete taps the girl on her shoulder.

"Hey, hey, hey." Goose jumps between them with his aviators on. "Don't worry, I'll take care of this." 

"You never close your eyes any more, when I kiss your lips."Pete starts to sing.

"There's no tenderness, like before in your fingertips." Goose sings as the two boys rock back and forth snapping.

"You're trying hard not to show it." Pete sings.

"Baby but, baby Believe me I know it You've lost that loving feeling Whoa, that loving feeling You've lost that loving feeling Now it's gone, gone, gone Whoa, whoa, whoa Ba-doom, ba-doom ba-doom boom boom ba-doom." the whole bar starts singing along.

The girl smiles and nods to the seat next to her. "Sit down." Everyone cheers and claps as Pete takes a seat.

"Ba-doom ba-doom boom boom Ba-doom, ba-doom... Baby, baby get down on my knees for you Ba-doom, ba-doom Ba-doom boom boom."

"I love that song. I've never seen that approach." The girl smiles facing Pete. "How long have you two been doing this act?" She asks.

"Oh, I don't know, since..." Pete tries to come up with an excuse.

"Puberty?" She questions.

"Right, puberty." Pete laughs.

"I'm Charlotte Blackwood." She smiles.

"I'm Maverick." He introduces himself.

"Maverick? Did your mother not like you or something?" She laughs.

"No, it's my callsign."

"You're a pilot." She gasps.

"That's right, a naval aviator." He replies, matter of factly. 

"Oh." She nods.

"No, actually, we've only done this, twice." He tells her.

"Oh, how'd you do?"

"Well truthfully, I got my little girl out of the first. Not much else." Pete nods. 

"And second?" Charlie asks.

"I don't know. I'll tell you tomorrow. But it's looking good so far."

"Well, uh, Maverick, my friend's just arrived, so it's been great talking to you." She turns to her friend and hands him her things. "Oh, I'll be with you in just a second, okay?" She turns back to Pete. "Listen, can I ask you a personal question?"

"That depends."

"Are you a good pilot?"

"I can hold my own." Pete answers

"Great. Then I won't have to worry about you making your living as a singer." She smiles and walks away from him.

"I'm gonna need a beer to put these flames out. Yo! Great, Mav. Real slick." Pete sighs, taking a drink from his bottle. He notices her get up from the booth and walk to the bathroom and he follows her immediately after she makes eye contact with him.

"It was a long cruise, was it, sailor?" She asks, washing her hands.

"It was too long." He smiles walking up to her.

"What did you wanna do, just drop right down on the tile and go for it?"

"No, I actually had," he tests the durability of the bathroom counter, "had this counter in mind."

"Great, that would be very, very comfortable. Yeah." She says, throwing away the paper towel.

"It could be." He smiles moving closer. "Actually, I came in here to save you from making a big mistake with that older guy."

"Really?" Charlotte asks. "So I could go on to a bigger one with a young guy like yourself?"

"Maybe. No?"

"I've gotta be at work very early in the morning." She turns to walk away.

"Then what are you doing here?" He asks following her.

A few moments later she walks by Goose who sits at the bar with a beer.

"Your friend was magnificent." She tells him, walking by. Pete walks up to stand beside him as Goose looks between his best friend and Charlotte's retreating figure. Maverick holds a smug smirk on his face.

"Nah. Nah."

"You still awake?" Goose asks, walking into Maverick's place.

"Yeah. What's up?" Maverick asks.

"Can't sleep." Goose says sitting on the arm of one of the chairs. "You know, when I first realised that we were going to Top Gun, all I could think about was getting that trophy." He sighs. "I gotta be straight with you, Mav. Right now, I just hope we graduate. I got a family to think about. I can't afford to blow this." Goose sighs. "Hell, you've got that little girl to think about."

"Yeah, I guess that flyby wasn't such a big hit, huh?" Maverick laughs lightly.

"Look, man, I know it's tough for you. They wouldn't let you in the academy because you're Duke Mitchell's kid and you have to live with that reputation. But it's like every time we go up there, it's like you're flying against a ghost. It makes me nervous." Goose tells him, pausing before he continues. "Ya know, she's turning into you day by day. Carole called me and I could hear her in the background tell Carole that she wants to fly like you. You gotta change the Mitchell reputation, otherwise she's gonna struggle like you are."

"I know," Pete sighs. "Ya know you're the only family I've got, right? I appreciate what y'all have done for us. I'm not gonna let you down. I promise you." Goose laughs before getting up to leave. "Get out of here." Goose leaves and Maverick goes back to thinking about the days events. The hop, breaking the hard deck, Viper's words. 

"Lieutenant Mitchell. Top Gun rules of engagement exist for your safety and for that of your team. They are not flexible, nor am I. Either obey them or your history."

He sighs, turning out the lights before going to bed.

"This music." Pete smiles listening to it in the Sun Room of Charlie’s home.

"An old friend?" Charlie asks, sitting down after turning on the music.

"My folks loved it. I haven't heard this in years. My mother used to call down from her room and have me play this over and over again. I got so sick of it. But not her, she... Just sit up there alone, just listening, hours. Just listening. She died shortly after him." Pete explains from the doorway.

"What happened to your father?" Charlie asks, sitting up from the bench.

"I guess I kind of figured, with your security clearance, you'd know more about him than I do." Pete tells her.

"Well, I didn't get that far."

"Well, it's a big mystery. He disappeared in an F-4, November 5th, 1965. The stink of it was, he screwed up. No way. My old man was a great fighter pilot. But who the hell knows? It's all classified."

"Somebody must know." Charlie says

"Yeah, somebody knows everything." Pete mutters.

"Is that why you're always second best up there?"

"You are direct, aren't you? I'm sorry I was late." Pete apologizes

"I'm sorry for being direct." Charlie apologizes.

"No apologies." Pete mimics her.

"Well how about your daughter?" Charlie questions. "You kind of mentioned her at the bar."

"Oh Delilah? She is awesome, honestly the best 4 year old you will ever meet." Pete laughs.

"Does she live with her mom? Ya know since you're so busy in the air?" Charlie asks.

"No, actually her mom passed away when Delilah was born. She, uh, was a naval aviator too, and was on maternity leave at 8 and a half months pregnant when there was a massive emergency and no other pilots available to go up and help so she jumped on a jet and rushed out to help, completely disregarding the orders being shouted at her." Pete looks down while he talks. "She got hit, both engines out, she ejected and hit her head in the landing. " By the time they found her they had two options, save her or save the baby. Obviously they chose Delilah." Pete laughs slightly, looking down at his shoes.

"What's she like? Delilah, I mean." Charlie asks.

"She's a handful. I don't know a whole lot because of how little I've been around since her first birthday. She stays with Goose's wife and his son during my missions. But, uh, she told Carole that she wanted to be a pilot just like me. And gets into a lot of trouble at daycare cause she doesn't like being told what to do. Her words, literally." Pete laughs.

"Sounds like someone I know." Charlie laughs.

"Yea," Pete laughs. "I honestly can't wait to see her, Carole is flying in with the kids tomorrow."

"Oh that's great." Charlie smiles.

"Yea, I should uh, get going." Pete stands. 

"Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna take a shower. Thank you. I enjoyed being here." Pete smiles before grabbing his jacket, climbing on his motorcycle and leaving.

"I told her how tough it is here." Goose says, talking to Maverick. They sat in one of the booths at the airport. "You know, my ass dragging like an old, tired dog. I told her that you didn't even have a woman here." Goose says.

"Oh, really." Pete laughs picking up his gift for Delilah.

"You know what she said?" Goose starts laughing as he picks up a toy plane and a single rose. "Said, 'Oh, he probably doesn't have one, he's got eight'." The boys laugh as they walk out the doors to the tarmac. Goose takes off running at the sight of Carole and the kids.

"Ahhhhh hi!" Carole screams as Goose places the rose in her hand and wraps her in a large hug. 

"Daddy!" Bradley and Delilah shout simultaneously, Goose squats down to give Bradley a kiss on his head before picking him up in a huge hug. Delilah talks off running towards Pete, he smiles and drops down to her level as she reaches him, her arms wrapping around his neck quickly.

"Hey kiddo." Pete has a huge smile on his face and Delilah holds him tightly. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." The 4 year old leans back and looks at the toy in his hand. "Is that for me?" She questions softly.

"Of course it's for you, my future little pilot." He hands her the toy F-14 and plants a kiss on her cheek. Delilah giggles as she plays with her new toy. Carole and Goose walk up to them with Bradley in Goose's arms. 

"Uncle Pete!" Bradley shouts, reaching for Pete. 

"Bradley!" Pete cheers as Bradley jumps into his other arm.

"So, Maverick," Carole says as they walk out of the airport. Both of the kids are still in Pete's arms while Carole and Goose carry the luggage. "Goose tells me you're in love with one of your instructors."

"Is that right?" Pete asks glaring at Goose before walking off with the kids.

"I... I didn't tell her that." Goose defends himself.

"Yes, you did." Carole replies.

"I can't believe you said that. That was a secret." Goose mutters to her before kissing her again.

Goose, Carole, Charlie, and Maverick sit in a booth with Delilah and Bradley sat in between Charlie and Carole. 

"What should we get?" Bradley whispers behind the menu to Delilah.

"Our usual." Delilah giggles, tucked behind her menu. 

"I like your thinking, princess." Bradley calls Delilah by his nickname for her. No one quite knows where the 4 year old boy learned that but they find it adorable how the two are with each other.

"Looks like I won't be chasing any boys away when they are older, Goose. Bradley here will be doing it for me." Pete laughs, his arm slung behind Charlie on the back rest.

"That or you'll be chasing Bradley from Lilah." Goose laughs.

"What can I get y'all?" The waitress asks. All of the adults order before Carole looks at the kids. "Honey what do you want?"

"My girl and me want chicken strips, please." Everyone busts up laughing.

"I'll get right on that." The waitress smiles.

"Oh I'm definitely in trouble." Pete laughs.

"Shall we dance, my lady?" Bradley offers to Delilah.

"We shall." Delilah giggles as her and Bradley crawl under the table and onto the dance floor, dancing together.

"Now where did our son learn that?" Carole laughs.

"Oh honey I think he's watching us a lot closer than we thought. Shall we dance, my lady?" Goose asks his wife, pulling her from her seat and onto the dance floor. 

Soon Charlie and Maverick join them laughing and dancing before Pete interrupts Delilah and Bradley's dance to pick up his daughter and dance with her. Goose picks up Bradley and sets him down on top of the piano as the music ends. Suddenly Delilah is up there too before Pete sits down with Charlie and Carole.

"You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain! Too much love drives a man insane." Goose sings, playing the piano. The kids singing along. "You broke my will. Oh, what a thrill! Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!" 

"Maverick, would you go fetch him?" Carole asks, jumping in her seat at Goose's singing. "Doesn't he ever embarrass you?"

"Goose? Hell, no." Maverick answers. "Well, there was the time..."

"Admiral's daughter." Carole elbows Mavericks side.

"What?" Pete reacts.

"Come on. He told me all about the time you went ballistic with Penny Benjamin." Carole laughs, causing Charlie to start laughing.

"Did he? Well, that's great." Maverick smiles softly, looking at Charlie.

"He tells me about all of them, Maverick." Carole laughs. "How my little angel, Goose, goes home early for church, and you, you always go home with the hot women."

"All right, thank you, Carole." Pete's cheeks flush as he gets up. "I'm gonna go embarrass myself with Goose for a while."

"Dancing!" Bradley and Delilah cheer from their spots.

"You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain!" Pete joins Goose and the kids, messing with the kids while singing. "Too much love drives a man insane! You broke my will, oh, what a thrill! Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!" Pete shouts with Goose, his head next to Goose's while they make funny faces making the two 4 year olds laugh.

"I would love to be able to warn you off about Maverick, but I just love him to death." Carole laughs. "You know, I've known Pete for a lot of years now, and I'm telling you, one thing's for certain. There are hearts breaking wide open all over the world tonight."

"Why?" Charlie questions.

"Because unless you are a fool, that boy is off the market. He is 100 percent, prime-time in love with you." Carole points to Charlie before turning back to the boys and kids. "Hey, Goose, you big stud!"

"That's me, honey." Goose calls back from the piano.

"Take me to bed or lose me forever." Carole calls back.

"Show me the way home, honey." Goose calls, still playing the piano. "Come on, kids, sing with the family." Goose looks up at the kids as Carole comes up to them and sits in Goose's lap."You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain! Too much love drives a man insane! You broke my will, oh, what a thrill! Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!" Everyone sings as Charlie joins the group.

Taglist: @kmc1989 @og-baby-ob-14 @merishfit @mamamaystbr @atarmychick007 @hiireadstuff @els-marvelvsp @erospecies @mariaenchanted

[sebastianstangirl01]

Hey I was just asking if you could write a Pete Mitchell x daughter reader??

Like the reader looses her wingman in the same way her dad did and when it happens she attempts to close everyone out in the same Mitchell fashion. But Maverick isn’t buying it so he pushes her to the breaking point in order to get her falls to crumble and he is there to help her and lend a pair of arms for her to cuddle and seek comfort in.

Thank you

150 your choice

I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before

Title: I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before

Pairing: Mitchell!Pilot Reader x Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, Implied Rooster x Reader

Summary: History repeats itself and the reader does her best to put up a wall to hide her true feelings, but Maverick refuses to let his daughter make the same mistake he did.

Warnings: angst, character death (Falcon, readers WSO), depression, self blame, guilt, Maverick comforting his daughter.

A/N: Readers callsign is MJ (Maverick Junior)

After the uranium plant mission the dagger squad became permanently assigned to top gun, either to train new pilots or to fly high risk missions. You and you’re WSO Falcon we’re picked as the 2nd bravo team alongside Phoenix and Bob, it was your job to fly with your father Maverick while Phoenix and Bob were with your honorary brother Rooster.

It had been 6 months since the mission and now there is a new group of Top Gun students coming through the program. All week you had all been taking turns doing flight trainings and now it is you and Falcon who are going to be leading this dogfighting exercise.

You and Falcon were walking side by side with his arm slung over your shoulder as he showed you a new picture he was adding to his cockpit.

“Kate’s 20 weeks, can you believe that? Me? I’m going to be a father.” Falcon chuckled shaking his head in disbelief making you smile

“That’s going to be the luckiest kid in the world, because they have me as godmother. Obviously.” You smiled making Falcon laugh and squeeze your shoulder

“Obviously. Not because they have the funniest and sexiest guy in the world as their dad. It’s definitely because of you.” Falcon said and you nodded

“Exactly.” You said before looking back down at the ultrasound picture. “But seriously. I’m happy for you, you’ll make the best dad.”

“Thanks MJ. That means a lot coming from you.” Falcon smiled

The two of you climbed up into your F-18 and got situated in, clipping your helmets on and double checking all your systems were in tiptop shape. Before you knew it you were taking off and souring across the sky.

“Alright Aviators, today MJ and Falcon will be leading you in dogfight maneuvers. You will have to evade MJ and if she gets a lock on you then you are out, report back to the tarmac for 200 push-ups. Good luck.” Maverick spoke over the radio as he flew a little ways behind you

“Talk to me Fal.” You said as you glanced around your surroundings looking for the other planes

“Looks like we’ve got 2 bogeys, about half a mile southeast.” Falcon said and you nodded before immediately flying that direction

“Gotcha, I’m in pursuit.” You said said as the two other planes came into view

“Shit! MJ’s on our tail!” One of the TopGun recruits, the WSO Flame spoke

“Damn right. Better make a move.” You smirked getting ready to perform a radar lock, you could have easily already taken them out but you wanted to give them the chance to make a move

“Break right, Dutch!” Flame instructed her pilot, Dutch

“Copy! Breaking right!” Dutch replied and did as he was told

You were already 1 step ahead though, anticipating the turn you got ahead and were able to get a lock on them making them groan in defeat, while Falcon laughed.

“You can’t beat the best.” Falcon chuckled shaking his head and you just shook your head fondly

“Nice try Dutch. Good communication Flame. Both of you head back to base.” You instructed as you flew behind them

“Copy.” Dutch spoke before increasing his speed

You followed behind them increasing your speed when suddenly your jet shook and alarms started blaring.

“What the fuck!” You exclaimed having no idea why this was happening or what this even was

“Shit! We flew into their jet wash!” Falcon exclaimed from the back as your jet shook

“I can’t control it Fal! Something wrong with the control system!” You exclaimed jerking the controls but nothing happened, it was like your jet was on autopilot and there was nothing you could do about it

“Left engine failure! Right engine failure! We’ve lost both engines MJ!” Falcon exclaimed as your jet suddenly began to spin

“Mayday! Mayday! MJ and Falcon are in trouble! They’re in a flat spin heading out to sea!” Dutch exclaimed over the radio

“The engines won’t restart! I can’t control this thing!” You exclaimed while you and Falcon both groaned as your jet kept spinning

“Altitude 8,000. 7,000. 6! We’re at 6, MJ!” Falcon exclaimed, his voice strained

“MJ! Falcon! Eject! Eject! You can’t save the plane! Eject damn it!” Mavericks voice suddenly exclaimed over the radio

“Fuck! Falcon, I can’t reach the ejection handle! You need to punch us out!” You exclaimed feeling yourself pinned forward against the controls because of the G force

“I’ve got it!” Falcon exclaimed reaching up for the ejection handle

“Watch the canopy!” You warned before you were ejected from the plane, everything from that moment happened in slow motion

Your head flipped backwards from the force of the ejection making you groan, you caught sight of Falcon as he ejected and your heart dropped and a bile raised in the back of your throat as he smacked right into the canopy. It was exactly how your father explained how Goose died all those years ago, you never knew the full extent of how your dad felt until this very second.

Falcons parachute deployed first lowering him down into the water and then yours did immediately after, you hit the water with a start the cold water shocking you momentarily. You felt your arms hit some of the debris that already fell from your plane, cutting your skin but none of that mattered.

“Falcon!” You exclaimed swimming towards his limp body. “Oh! Oh no! Falcon!”

You got to him and pulled him into your arms, his helmet was busted open and blood was leaking from a deep head laceration, his head bobbed around limply and you could feel the deep sense of dread bubbling to the surface.

“No! You can’t die! You can’t die! Please! Please! Goose! Goose please don’t take him! Please!” You screamed hysterically, feeling your emotions bubble up knowing what you feared was true. “Oh god!”

There was nothing you could do for Falcon. He was dead, just like that. No warning. No preparation. He was just gone. You held him tight and let your head rest against his as the tears flowed.

The rescue helicopter appeared and it took everything in you to get yourself together and shove your emotions down, Falcon was dead and he may have been your best friend but you weren’t the one who would miss him most. His pregnant wife and their unborn child will miss him most. He’ll never get to be the great dad you know he would have been.

And it was all your fault.

When the rescue helicopter landed at base the first person you caught sight of was your father. Maverick looked like a mess, his eyes were rimmed red and his hair was all out of place like he had continuously ran his fingers through it.

The medical team rushed towards the helicopter and unloaded Falcon onto a stretcher and rushed him into the infirmary. You numbly accepted the hand of another medic and felt Maverick wrap his arms around you tugging you to his chest. He held you against him, one hand on the back of your head while his other rested on your upper back. You could feel your resolve slipping and quickly pulled away, spotting your dads frown as your helmet clattered to the tarmac before you rushed into the building feeling that bile rise in your throat.

You busted into the bathroom and dropped to your knees in front of the toilet before throwing up everything that had been on your stomach, which wasn’t a lot but it was enough to have you heaving into the toilet bowl. After you were done you flushed the toilet then flopped back against the wall. Your adrenaline was wearing off and you could feel the ache in your limbs and around your stomach.

You pulled yourself up off the ground and stood in front of the mirror, your skin was blotchy and red and you could see a bruise starting to form around your eye from the force of hitting the water. You splashed some water on your face before unzipping your flight suit leaving you in a sports bra and a pair of spandex shorts as you kicked your flight suit over to the side along with your boots.

You looked at your reflection and saw a bruise forming around your ribcage more than likely from the force of your parachute deploying. You had cuts along your arms so you filled the sink with warm water before grabbing some of the disinfectant soap and a wash cloth, you dipped the wash cloth in the water and squirted some of the soap onto the washcloth before dabbing your wounds. All while blankly looking into the mirror watching yourself.

You looked away as someone knocked on the doorframe, Warlock was standing there giving you a sympathetic look that made you immediately look away from him. He sighed and stepped towards you settling beside you and leaning against the sink.

“Falcon is dead.” Warlock informed you and you just blankly nodded

“Yeah. I figured. It didn’t look good.” You said pausing to look up and catch his eyes before going back to what you were doing

“Your father went to inform Falcon’s wife about the accident. He said she might take it better from a familiar face.” Warlock said and you scoffed shaking her head

“It doesn’t matter who breaks the news. In the end her husband and the father of her unborn child is dead. This is going to be the worst day of her life regardless of who tells her.” You snapped before sighing and resting your head against your crossed arms on the sink. “I’m sorry sir. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“I understand MJ. These next couple of weeks are going to be tough on you and I want to let you know that there are people you can talk to. At least one person knows what your going through. One is a lot closer than the others.” Warlock said giving you a knowing look before patting your back and leaving.

You sighed and finished cleaning your wounds before grabbing your discarded flight suit and boots before leaving, you walked into the locker room and spotted Rooster waiting for you leaning against his locker. He sighed in relief when he saw you and got up to pull you into a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re ok.” Rooster said kissing your forehead

“Yeah.” You mumbled tightening your hold around his waist

“I heard about Falcon. I’m so sorry baby.” Rooster said cupping your cheeks and you nodded

“Yeah me too. He was a great WSO.” You replied before pulling away and moving to your locker, you dropped your flight suit into the hamper beside it before grabbing your clothes you brought to change into and changing ignoring the look of worry Rooster was giving you. “I just want to go home.”

“Ok. Yeah. Let’s go home.” Rooster nodded and wrapped his arm around your waist leading you out of the locker room.

“Y/N.” Maverick said as he jogged up to you and Rooster. “Can we have a second Rooster?”

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll go start the car.” Rooster said kissing you on the forehead before leaving allowing you to turn back to your father

“I know what your thinking right now. But this wasn’t your fault, it’s impossible to recover from a spin like that. Trust me I’d know.” Maverick said making you sigh

“I am the pilot. It’s my job to keep my WSO safe and I didn’t do that. So yes it is my fault. I guess I really am Maverick Junior. Killing our WSO’s is just a Mitchell thing I guess.” You said shaking your head as you felt tears form in your eyes before rushing away, not noticing the heartbroken expression on Mavericks face.

The next few days have been the longest of your entire life, there was a hearing about the accident and it was ruled that there was nothing you could have done to avoid or recover from what happened and were put back on full duty. You were immediately told by Cyclone that you would be flying today and you just wanted to get it over with and go back to normal.

You were flying solo today in a F-4 instead of your normal F-18, they thought it might be a good idea to try something different instead of jumping right back into a F-18.

You had just taken off and were flying in formation with another one of the TopGun pilots when you felt it. Your chest was so tight it hurt to take a breath, your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest, you were shaking and sweating. You didn’t know what was happening but you knew you couldn’t focus.

“MJ, you alright?” You vaguely heard one of the pilots ask you but you couldn’t respond

“I think somethings wrong with MJ.”

“MJ?”

“MJ report.”

You could hear everything everyone was saying but couldn’t bring yourself to respond, all that was going through your head was flashes of the accident.

“Altitude 8,000. 7,000. 6! We’re at 6, MJ!” Falcon exclaimed, his voice strained

“MJ! Falcon! Eject! Eject! You can’t save the plane! Eject damn it!” Mavericks voice suddenly exclaimed over the radio

“Fuck! Falcon, I can’t reach the ejection handle! You need to punch us out!” You exclaimed feeling yourself pinned forward against the controls because of the G force

“I’ve got it!” Falcon exclaimed reaching up for the ejection handle

“Watch the canopy!” You warned before you were ejected from the plane, everything from that moment happened in slow motion

Your head flipped backwards from the force of the ejection making you groan, you caught sight of Falcon as he ejected and your heart dropped and a bile raised in the back of your throat as he smacked right into the canopy. It was exactly how your father explained how Goose died all those years ago, you never knew the full extent of how your dad felt until this very second.

Falcons parachute deployed first lowering him down into the water and then yours did immediately after, you hit the water with a start the cold water shocking you momentarily. You felt your arms hit some of the debris that already fell from your plane, cutting your skin but none of that mattered.

“Falcon!” You exclaimed swimming towards his limp body. “Oh! Oh no! Falcon!”

You got to him and pulled him into your arms, his helmet was busted open and blood was leaking from a deep head laceration, his head bobbed around limply and you could feel the deep sense of dread bubbling to the surface.

“No! You can’t die! You can’t die! Please! Please! Goose! Goose please don’t take him! Please!” You screamed hysterically, feeling your emotions bubble up knowing what you feared was true. “Oh god!”

There was nothing you could do for Falcon. He was dead, just like that. No warning. No preparation. He was just gone. You held him tight and let your head rest against his as the tears flowed.

“MJ! Hey snap out of it. Y/N! Honey look at me!” Maverick exclaimed and you managed to look over and saw your fathers jet right next to yours. “You’re ok. Everything’s going to be ok, follow me back to base. I’ll be with you the whole way.”

You somehow managed to land your plane and immediately jumped down onto the tarmac ripping your helmet off and gasping for air as you lowered yourself to your knees. Arms wrapped around your body and you were met with the smell of cedar wood and jet fuel, your dads scent.

“I’ve got you honey. I’ve got you.” Maverick soothed rocking you back and forth like he did to calm you from a nightmare when you were a child.

“I don’t think I’m ok.” You shakily admitted and Maverick gave you a understanding smile

“I know. You won’t be for a little while, but eventually it will get easier. Not much easier but it will be more bearable. I’ll be with you the whole way.” Maverick promised kissing your forehead

“I love you dad. I’m sorry about what I said.” You guiltily spoke, remembering the comment you made about Mitchell’s killing their backseaters

“I love you too. It’s ok.” Maverick assured you. “I’m going to help you get through this. I promise.”

Taglist

@daughterofthereaper02

@luckyladycreator2

@calpurniatypes

@littlebadariell

@qnfluvr

@raefoxiegirl

@maverick-wingman

@avada-kedrava-bitch

[bradsthorn]

WONDER OF YOU | B.B. X FEMALE OC

Chapter 1: The Wonder of You

Summary: Nicolette 'Wildcard' Mitchell was shocked to get called back to North Island. Her track record was not exactly clean and most certainly not one that most would celebrate. Then she sees Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw again. Maybe it won't be all bad.

Warnings: Mentions of death, alcohol, Flashbacks to Top Gun 86, Broken Family dynamics

Word Count: 2.6K

Author Note: Hey y'all this fic is my baby and I'm excited to share this with y'all. This is cross-listed on AO3!

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

“Wood.. I barely got out of being grounded, just to be sent to Top Gun. It has to be some sort of cruel punishment.” The girl was huffing as she stuffed another shirt into her bag. Nicolette Mitchell a.k.a. Wildcard, lived up to both her callsign and last name in ways that made her commanding officers grimace upon seeing her assigned to them. 

“ Or it’s for something important. They don’t just call people back like that for punishment, Nic.” The older male was shaking his head as he responded. He had basically adopted the girl — she had been his favorite kid of the class of 86’s, not that he didn’t like Bradley, but there was a special place in his heart for the brunette girl. 

“Yeah, because they send Maverick to new places for important things.” Nicolette was letting a laugh fall as she heard Hollywood hush his husband.

“No, no.. Wolf is right. They sent Maverick to .. well, anywhere he’s been sent simply because he pissed off an Admiral. Not that I did.” There was a snort being heard over the phone and then an ‘ow!’ shortly after,

“Nic.. did you piss off an Admiral?” 

“Technically, yes.  But my wingman needed me, it wasn’t my fault they didn’t fill my fuel tank up all the way.” This was a common occurrence for the girl, her wingmen, and team were always first, aircraft and herself second. So be it if it got her in trouble she valued people over the jets they were in. One lesson Maverick had been able to teach her is that your teammates are not replaceable, the jets are no matter what the Navy says. 

“So.. you pulled a Maverick?” There were a few seconds of silence before the two males could hear her zipping up the bag. 

“No. I was being a good teammate. He doesn’t know what that’s like.” There was some poison in her words, and it was clear as day to the pilot and his RIO that the relationship between the girl and her father had not gotten better. 

“I.. okay, Nic. Just.. let us know when you get here, we’d like to see you, kid.” If there was one thing Hollywood knew, it was that whatever waited for the woman on North Island, he would have pieces to pick up. 

“I will. Love ya’ll.” Once the couple had responded, she was hanging up and tossed her bag into her Thunderbird. 

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Nicolette Duke Mitchell had been accustomed to being moved around a lot, at least until she needed a stable place to be able to attend school. Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, the man that was her second father; pops as she called him, was able to stay stationary for her. While Maverick was being sent to Iraq, Bosnia, and wherever else the Navy sent him, Iceman was staying at Top Gun, raising the almost carbon copy of his wingman. Thankfully, some of the rest of the 86 class was able to pitch in. Or they at least kept her busy when they’d visit. And of course, Carole. Seeing as the two had gotten so close over the short amount of time they had together while their dads were in Top Gun, Carole couldn’t possibly keep Bradley away from Nicolette. There were plenty of phone calls, where the two toddlers mirrored each other; being sat on the counter with their respective parents keeping them steady, just chatting away like they had much to talk about. But they could do it for hours and each call ended with a “bye bradbrad.” and “bye ni.” Nic visited Brad and Carole in Tennessee for plenty of weeks in the summer and Brad would visit Nic in San Diego whenever he was able. Until he was in Maverick’s custody and then he was living with her and Ice. 

Iceman had done his best to keep the girl in contact with her father. And he pulled strings whenever necessary to get Maverick home to her. But, almost like clockwork, he was pissing off whichever admiral or higher up he could and getting sent away. What originally was described to the girl as ‘the Navy just needs him right now.’ transpired into a festering grudge towards her father – one that faded each time he came home, but grew the second he left again. 

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The Hard Deck, something you weren’t supposed to go below. That was Navy law, and anything below the hard deck was dangerous, it could damage the aircraft. This hard deck though? Could damage a person’s wall that they had spent much of their adult life building, or cause cracks in a facade. But it also held a lot of memories from the time spent in Top Gun. Something that was cherished among those that attended, and it was the best bar to go to attempt to score a free drink. 

The brunette was shutting the door to her car, a small sigh being given as she witnessed all of the other pilots entering the bar. She knew what that meant; she wasn’t getting grounded. Just a slight possibility of being sent to her death. Which, she figured the Navy wouldn’t bat an eye at, it would achieve their goal, keep the Mitchells out of the sky and run them out of the Navy. Her digits ran through her hair for a second, checking it in her mirror when her eyes fixed on the blue Bronco parked a few spots down. Holy shit. She hadn’t seen the owner of that Bronco since two deployments ago. There was almost a hop in her step as she stepped into the loud building, an easily recognizable song on the jukebox. 

If you’re lookin’ for trouble, you came to the right place. 

She shook her head, what a song to be playing when she came in. The people at Top Gun had thought she was trouble, and any higher-up that she had would probably agree with that statement. There were three people in the bar that wouldn’t agree with it; one that she hadn’t seen yet; and that was known by the fact she was still in the bar. The second was already smiling as she noticed her, sliding a beer down to her; amazed the girl hadn’t recognized the male a few feet away. And then; 

My daddy was a green-eyed mountain jack.

“Mitchell… You’ve got to be shittin’ me.” Hangman. A man Nicolette knew well, but despised just as much. 

“Seresin.” There was a beat. Lips parted as she shook her head at him. It was clear that whatever this was, it was serious. Otherwise, there would’ve been no need for the number of patches she was seeing. Nicolette watched the male grab his beers and nod to someone behind her, the person paying for their drinks, she assumed. Then against her better judgment, she followed the blonde back to the group. Her eyes stuck on the Hawaiian shirt that she had entered the bar searching for. But, Hangman beat her to having the first word with him once he had changed the song. 

“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.” 

“Hangman… You look… good.” 

“Well, I am good, Rooster, I’m very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.” Nic let a quiet scoff out, head shaking. She had taken a seat at a stool behind Brad, not wanting to get in the middle of it. This wasn’t her fight, at least not yet. 

“So, anybody know what this special detachment is all about?” Nic’s brows furrowed at the man who spoke. She only knew a select few of the pilots around the pool table.

“No, mission’s a mission. They don’t confront me.” His ego hadn’t changed apparently.

“What I want to know: Who’s gonna be team leader?”  Her eyes followed the pool balls that clattered together. 

“And which one of yall has what it takes to follow me?” There it was. His ego was bigger than the state he came from. 

“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.” The woman had to take a sip of her beer to keep from chuckling loudly. Eyes meeting those of a male across the pool table, he had glasses and seemed to be the quieter one, seeing as the two on either side of him, one whom she knew; Coyote, who typically couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and the other who let a low “whoo!” out at the comment, obviously were loving this interaction. The one with the glasses was not. 

“Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel.” Nicolette was getting close to stepping in, 

“But that’s just you, ain’t it Rooster?” Her body inched closer to standing. 

“You’re snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment…” And she was up, body moving quietly to stand behind the male. Hangman’s eyes trailed from the taller male to land on Nic. Almost as if his next words were for both of them, 

“That never comes.” There it was. His eyes had locked back on Brad’s after, Nic noted the small smirk that grew on Hangman’s lips. She was going to have to make herself known to Brad now. 

“Y’know Hangman, you don’t have to compensate for your lack of… well, size right now.” Head tilting, with a small smirk growing as she watched the blonde falter for a split second before his lips were moving back to his signature smirk. 

“If you wanna see how wrong you are, let me know Wildcard.” Winking at her, earning a scoff, as his attention turned back to Rooster, 

“I love this song.” And then the pair watched him walk off. Bradley’s eyes finally landed on the girl.

“Ni..” It was like he let his body relax for a second, he didn’t have to be on guard with her. He was safe with her. 

“Hey, Bradbrad…” Then arms were wrapped around her, bringing her into his chest, he didn’t know how long to hold onto her but at the moment? Time had stopped anyway so it didn’t matter. And neither could see the way the simple action between them had caused someone else’s world to stop, Maverick hadn’t seen the two of them together in years, and as he took in the Hawaiian shirt on the male’s body and arms wrapping around the female in a brightly colored red and orange shirt, it was like going back thirty years. The sight caused his heart to ache. Then Bradley’s arms were removed as he looked to the other girl who had joined them, but a hand had found its way to rest on Nicolette’s back. Maverick’s eyes burned into the pair, and for Nicolette, the fact her hair was sticking up on the back of her neck had more to do with the group of people in front of her who, while they may know her or know of her, most likely already wouldn’t want her around. Her reputation and last name — something that always held more significance than her — always preceded her.

“Well, he hasn’t changed.” Nic’s brows rose as she looked over the other girl, Natasha “Phoenix” Trace. Of course, she knew her, although there was a small negative feeling festering in her stomach as she took her in. Nicole couldn’t put into words what that feeling was, but it was prominent. 

“Nope. Sure hasn’t.” There was a small part of his accent lingering at the end of his statement, which made her lips curl up at the edges. 

“Change is a foreign concept to him.” Nicolette let the words fall, almost as if she had to prove her existence. Needed to prove something, what it was? She couldn’t tell anyone. But there was a nod given her way by Phoenix, which caused her to feel settled until more voices joined them. 

“Check it out.” The group’s eyes flickered away from the pool table to focus on the entrance, “More patches.”  Nicolette knew what that meant, that whatever was happening wouldn’t be good. 

“That’s Harvard, Yale, Ohama. Shit, that’s Fritz.” Wildcard’s green hues followed after the group and her lips pursed for a second as she scoffed, head shaking. 

“What the hell kind of mission is this?” Her brow rose at the male, Garcia was what he’d be known by until she knew his callsign, thank the US Military for name badges. 

“A suicide mission,” Nicolette mumbled, causing eyes to land on her as she mindlessly played on her phone. The other pilots around them turned to her, eyes narrowing. She didn’t think twice about what she had said, if anything she knew she was right. They don’t call back this many pilots for something any less serious than that. 

ICEDAD

ICE. 

Nic. 

You’ll never guess where I am. 

North Island?

This is why I don’t play guessing games with you

But… so is half of the goddamn navy 

That’s an exaggeration. 

Okay? And? It’s still a lot of people. 

And?

Brad is here. 

I know. 

So you knew i was here?

Got briefed on it. 

Someone else is there though. 

And the conversation was over once Nic heard the bell ring. Either someone else was paying for their drinks or 

“OVERBOARD! OVERBOARD! OVERBOARD!” The girl’s head tilted, phone slipping back into her pocket as she shook her head, eyes locking with Bradley’s at the piano. It was second nature for her to find her way to the instrument. She had spent so many years with the male just hanging out while he played or learned to play.

The toddler was kicking her feet in her father’s lap. Her head tilted to the side as she watched the two blonde women on the other side of her. Nicolette had very little patience in her tiny body and barely sat still - as would be expected from Maverick’s kid. Her fingers wrapped around a fry, that quickly went flying to hit the woman in a white blouse. Giggles were fast to leave tiny lips afterward, Maverick himself having to fight off a laugh. Then once Carole – who Nic adored – had smiled at her, Nic was done and trying to wiggle out of Maverick’s hold. She wanted to go sit with the guy at the piano with the colorful shirt. She liked him a whole lot, he would put her in the sky when he picked her up, and he flew her around sometimes, she loved it. Not to mention the kid on top of the piano who was her newfound best friend. Finally, her dad was heading over there with her, setting her down on the bench to stand, Nic’s hands reaching to try to grab the hat off of the piano – Goose’s hat, but one hand was grabbed by her father to twirl her – as carefully as possible, as the two men sang;

“You shake my nerves, and you rattle my brain…” 

Bradley had an arm wrapped around the woman’s waist as his fingers created the familiar tune on the piano; Nic let a soft laugh out as he glanced up at her with a mischievous twinkle in his puppy dog browns, 

“Thinkin’ ‘bout your love drives a man insane, you broke my will, oh what a thrill, goodness, gracious, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!”  

The two were a splitting image of something Maverick had never thought he’d see again, and now watching the group of young pilots around the piano and the two on the bench, there was no way he couldn’t teach this mission. They had to come home. If not for him or the families any of them may have had, they had to come home for each other.

credit: I don't own any characters but Nicolette Mitchell, and any other OCs that may appear and their storylines. I have no affiliation with Top Gun or Top Gun: Maverick. All rights go to the rightful owners.

Tag list: @toracsanji

[justabigassnerd]

TOP GUN MASTERLIST

(x reader):

Safe and Sound

Queen of my Heart

More Than Friends

Treat You Better

The Perfect Gift

You Are Still My World

Healing Presence

Patience Worn Thin

Worth The Risk

Summer of Love (ongoing series)

(x sister!reader):

Lifeline

Self Discovery

(x daughter!reader):

Secret's Out

Nightmares

Deployments Suck

Not So Little Anymore

First Period

Sick Day

I'm (Not So) Fine

(x reader):

Hold Your Horses

Days Like This

Unexpected Visitor and Revelations

(x sister!reader):

Sneaking Out

So Long Wisdom Teeth

(x daughter!reader):

You're Not Alone

New Best Friend

Replaced - (sequel to 'New Best Friend')

Night Scare

Protected

Hangman Junior Universe

(x sister!reader):

You're Home

(x daughter!reader):

I'm Right Here

Mini Mav

Overprotective Aviators

The Talk - (sequel to ‘Overprotective Aviators')

Midnight Storms

Mitchell Charm

Love and Support

Daddy's Little Girl

I've Got You

Caught

Rough Days

Periods and Mood Swings

Making You Proud

New Home

Playgrounds and Injuries

Hidden Talent

Protective Friend

(x daughter!reader):

Baby on Board's... Baby?

(x sister!reader):

Surprise Arrival

[saltsicklover]

Title: Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Part 2 of 2 - Completed

Find Part 1 HERE, and my Master List HERE

A request based off of THIS prompt, from the lovely @inkandarsenic

Romantic Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader Past Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Platonic Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Fem!Reader

A few uses of Y/N

Word Count: This part: 14k+ Total Fic:20k+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talks of death, minor character deaths, labor, loss of a child in utero, abandonment, drinking, talks of God and destiny, swearing, general military talk and lingo, descriptions of food and eating, coughing fits, talks of violence, actual violence, blood, vomit and throwing up, mention of near death experiences. ANGST

---

I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. The weekend before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A cellphone is tucked between Monsoon's cheek and shoulder, the line trilling. She carries her duffle bags and kit, feeling like a battering ram as she makes her way through the crowd of people. The airport is packed and she can feel just how humid it is form how sticky she feels.

The hallways of the airport wind as she follows the crowd out of the baggage claim. The people around her move just a bit too slowly as they wheel their bags behind them, just begging for someone to trip over them if they dare pass. If there is one thing Monsoon did not miss about being at Top Gun, it's the trip in.

Fuck flying coach.

Fuck PSC Season and all of the families taking all the seats on the military flights.

Fuck the crying lady sitting next to her, who wouldn't stop sobbing at the shitty romcom she was watching, and fuck when she decided to start it over, just to watch it all over again.

But the best thing about coming back has to be seeing her surrogate father, Beau Simpson. Their relationship has only grown stronger since that night at the bar. They have spent countless meals together, drinking at bars when they are in the same place and always sending 'check in' emails. Phone calls have always been a bit dodgy between time zones and deployments.

Neither one knew exactly what they were getting into when the bond between them grew, neither really sure exactly what a parent/child relationship looks like, especially when the child is really an unrelated adult. But as the days went on, and the email chain got longer and longer, things seemed to just make sense.

The pair talked about everything, from work to dating, friendships and recipes. Cyclone opened up about June and their baby, sharing his favorite stories of their marriage. From how they started dating, to the day that June passed, Monsoon heard it all. 

Calla lilies were June's favorite, the only flowers that Beau believes should ever be given to a woman, and Monsoon smiles at the memory of her graduation from Top Gun, and the way Cyclone smiled at her with the bouquet of lilies in his lap.

When Monsoon found herself in Vermont she carved out time to visit June and Baby Boy Simpson at the cemetery. She showed up with two bouquets of calla lilies and a speech to give them. Monsoon cleaned their headstones and laid the flowers delicately across their plots, speaking to them the whole time about herself, and Cyclone, and the world they live in.

Cyclone's phone buzzed in his pocket while in a meeting. When he snuck a peak, he was met with a photo of Monsoon, a light smile adorning her face as she sits just in front of the burial plots. The message read "With Mama June and Bubba, thinking of you, Pops". Cyclone had to excuse himself from the table with tears in his eyes.

As the years went on, the surfaces in Cyclone's office slowly began to fill with more photos of the two of them. The collection of frames started out sophisticated, it really did, but as time went on, the frames became more eclectic, more fun. 

It's juxtaposes the rest of Cyclones office in a way that is almost comical. As he is shouting at someone for their latest fuck up, there are shelves full of silly frames just a few feet away. Cyclone's favorite just so happens to read "Clown College Class President" while Monsoon's favorite is one of those irregular shaped ones, with an oval opening for the photograph.

There is a photo of the two of them tucked in the cockpit of Monsoon's jet. It catches the mechanics off guard every time, but no one dare says a word about it- mostly out of fear that word would get back to Admiral. The photo depicts the two of them at one of those giant truck stops, posing with the large dinosaur sitting out front. She is sat atop of it, like a cowboy, with Cyclone leaning up against it, his shoulder near her thigh. They both wear larger than life smiles as the sun beats down on them. It was a silly thing, really. Both stuck in at little forgotten Air Base in middle America for a flight test, but the pair managed to make the best of it, remembering to take photographs as they went.

There is a postcard folded up in Cyclone's wallet. Once upon a time, it read the catchy saying "Why Not Minot?" printed across the front of it, with a cute little photo of a town square, a little forgotten town in North Dakota. It's one of those bases that people dread being stationed at, that much has always been true, but the little photo on the front of the post card sold a different tale. It wasn't the cutesy saying or the photo that made him keep it, the edges now worn and fibrous. On the back, written in neat blue ink, underneath a little blurb about how there is absolutely nothing to do in North Dakota, the sentence "I love you, Pops" sits next to a scribbly little heart.

The staticky, tolling, phoneline picks up after a few rings as Monsoon pushes around a family with one too many screaming toddlers. They have on those little backpack leashes and Monsoon almost gets close lined as a little dark haired child bursts in front of her without warning. She dodged, but she catches one of those damn rolling bags with her toe. Monsoon barely notices the glare the lady sent her way, but the lack luster wrath of a stranger isn't going to stop her.

"Hey, Kid," Cyclone greets over the line, the smile on his face evident through the sound of his voice. There is no need for an official "hello" to begin the conversation, both knowing full well that Cyclone had been watching the flight itinerary like a hawk to make sure Monsoon wasn't going to be delayed. The call upon landing is just expected at this point, though neither of them have mastered the cool,casual, its good to see you.

"I just landed," A woman walks right into one of the duffle bags hanging off of Monsoon's shoulders, throwing her completely off balance. She hikes the bag higher up on her shoulder, trying to rebalance the hefty weight she is carrying. Monsoon sways like she is at sea, attempting to get her balance back. There is something so familiar about the way she sways a bit, just like the jet carriers do as the waves bash against the metal of the hull.

"Fuck" she curses under her breath, steadying herself once again. For a Seaman, one might think Monsoon would have better balance. Cyclone rolls his eyes on the other side of the phone. "I'll be over for dinner tonight, if that's still the plan,"

"Sure is, I'm making your favorite,"

"Steak and potatoes are your favorite," Monsoon corrects.

"You can correct me without the side of guilt, you know," Cyclone is chuckling through the phone, earning him a roll of the eyes.

"I only meant to tease," There is a nonchalance to her voice, though she is the furthest thing from cool. Cyclone isn't either. His kid is coming home and they get to sit down for a meal for the first time in months and he is beyond excited.

"I'm going to drop my stuff off at my rental, then I'll be headed your way, you better be ready for me to eat enough for a small village," Monsoon heads right for the exit, ready to look for a taxi. "And Pops, maybe think about adding a-" The word "vegetable" fails to make it's way out of her mouth as Monsoon looks up as the double doors in front of her slide open. Cyclone is standing on the other side, a large sign reading "WELCOME HOME KIDDO" sits loosely in his hand, the other holds his phone up to his ear.

It's like one of those cheesy scenes from a movie, both wearing matching grins and laughing. Cyclone knew the whole thing would be a surprise; he took a leave day to make sure he would bet there to pick her up.

"Pops!" The name still makes Cyclone's heart swell, even if he had been responding to that very name for the past few years. It's funny, really, how easy it was for the pair to adjust to the name, though Monsoon waited for him to acknowledge it first before she actually said it.

The acknowledgement came from a recorded phone message, shortly after her first move after her Top Gun Graduation. Cyclone got stuck in on the highway with a dead car and no cellphone. The call came in from a payphone, an unknown number. Cyclone left a message, "Hey, kid, it's Pops, my car died and I am stranded. I could use an assist. Do you know anyone in Missouri?". That message is still saved on Monsoon's phone to this day.

"Hey, Kiddo!" And then Monsoon is stumbling closer, her bags swinging her center of gravity all over the place. He reaches a hand out to take one, ready to throw it over his shoulder, but instead, each one hits the pavement with a hard thud. Monsoon is quickly wrapping her arms around his body, one over his shoulder, one under his arm, meeting around his back and squeezing him hard.

The hug is returned in kind, both damn near trying to squeeze each other to death. It's playful, as they share "good to see you's" and "I've missed you's" .

"I hope you don't mind, Kid, but I invited another one of the recruits to dinner tonight," He speaks the words into her hair. Monsoon pulls back to look up at her Pops with furrowed brows. She doesn't have to say a thing, he already knows exactly what is going through her mind.

"I know it's unorthodox, but, Kazansky said it might be a good idea, and when the good Admiral says something like that, you set another place at the table,"

"Yeah, unorthodox is definitely a word for it," Monsoon is pulling out of Cyclone's embrace, dipping to grab her discarded bags from the pavement. Cyclone grabs one before she can, which earns him a roll of her eyes.

"Be nice, would you?"

"To you or the mystery guest?" Her words are dripping with sarcasm.

"Preferably both," Cyclone chides, poking her in the side with the welcome home sign. She swats it away with a quick hand, both laughing.

"I'll see what I can do,"

---

The sun is setting over the horizon, painting the sky orange with wisps of pink the lower it sinks behind the curve of the Earth. Monsoon is spread out on one of the lawn chairs, relaxing, well, more like waiting out her Pops' little outburst. She had opened the grill to check on the steak, making sure the edges wouldn't be too crispy, and Cyclone all but snapped the lid shut in the middle of her investigation. He banished her to the other side of the patio to wait for the food to finish cooking. Then, and only then, would she be allowed to touch the grill again.

If there is one thing to be true, Cyclone has a method when it comes to grilling. Monsoon had it all explained to her the first time he grilled for the pair of them. He has it down to a science, all from the temperature and the kind of charcoal to use, to the length of marinating time and spices to make even the worst cut of meat from the Commissary the most perfect dinner.

And Monsoon couldn't exactly tell him he was wrong. After all, every single thing Beau had ever placed in front of her tasted delicious, delectable even. Not only that, but Monsoon really couldn't have done it better if she tried. Her Pops wouldn't let her try, either, but that is beside the point.

Soon, everything is pulled off the grill and the pair are inside, Monsoon tasked with setting the table. All of the windows are open, the evening breeze cooling the inside of the house. As she places another fork down, Monsoon takes in the way the breeze dances across her skin. Goosebumps threaten to crest over her exposed arms at the chill the air carries. In that moment, she is thankful for the California air, the smell of the freshly made sides sitting in the center of the table, and the fact that she is setting the table in her Pops' house.

It has been too long since the pair got to sit together and share a meal. Cups of coffee over video chat were no where near as nice and Monsoon couldn't lie, she missed Cyclone's cooking. As she sets down the last knife, Cyclone is bounding down the stairs. His causal jeans and t-shirt have been replaced by a nice pair of brown slacks and a cream polo shirt, tucked in with a belt. He's even sporting loafers.

"Hey Pops, there is something I want to talk to you about tonight," Monsoon shouts down the hall. She tries to shake the bit of nerves rumbling through her chest like a handful of loan bees.

"Okay, kiddo," Cyclone calls back as he is rounding the corner into the kitchen, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, promise,"

"Okay," It's a simple response as he walks further into the kitchen. He pats her on the shoulder as he passes, a loving gesture.

"Got a hot date?" Monsoon chides as she looks him up and down. She sets the bundle of flatware down on the table, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No," Cyclone is shaking his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at her words. "We are having company tonight, remember?"

"Oh, I remember, but I didn't think some random Lieutenant, that is only coming over because the good Admiral all but ordered him to, was someone worth dressing up for."

There is a shrug of her shoulders as her head sways down nonchalantly. Cyclone crosses his arms, mirroring his kid, with a stern look on his face. It's a look that Monsoon isn't used to seeing out of uniform. Maybe it should worry her, but the vein that would usually protrude from his forehead is nowhere to be seen.

"Remember, kid, you too are just 'some random Lieutenant'" Those words stir a bit of anger within Monsoon, but it dissipates as fast as it came.

"Well then, Admiral Simpson, sir," Monsoon stands up a bit straighter, dropping her hands to her sides, "Let me find something more presentable to wear for the strange man who's crashing out family dinner," She grimaces a bit, but they both laugh. Beau is just laughing, in that way that make's his whole body shake, his eyes scrunched closed while whole hearted giggles escape his lips.

"Go on, kid," He waves in the general direction of the hallway, towards the front of the house where she dropped her bags by the front door.

The zipper of her duffle bag slide open easily, the separation of the teeth vibrating her fingertips. Monsoon fishes out a sun dress and a cropped sweater, something to keep her warmer as the sun sets below the horizon. It's a nice enough combination, something that will surly look like she gives a fuck about her appearance without looking like she planned too much. Monsoon changes out of her sweat shorts and t-shirt in the half bath, emerging looking like a brand new woman, though the feeling  of the plane still lingers on her skin.

Just as she is stuffing her travel clothing back into her bag, the doorbell sounds throughout the house, the bells tolling just a bit too loud.

"Jeez, Pops, could that doorbell be any louder?" Monsoon is yelling just as she reaches for the door. She pulls it open with a swift movement, a smile on her face. Then it falls as soon as she sees who is standing on the other side of the threshold.

Clad in a button down shirt, one with a pattern that would rival any rodeo clown, with one too many buttons undone stands Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw; a man she hasn't seen since a deployment five years ago, about six months after she graduated from Top Gun.

There is a gold chain hanging around his neck. It's just long enough to graze over the tops of his collar bones. His shirt is untucked, the bottom a bit wrinkly, like he has tucked and untucked it a couple of times trying to decide which looked better. He made the wrong choice, by Monsoon's calculation, the patterned shirt covering the top of his dark khakis. He looks a bit silly, really, from the chain down to his boat shoes. The thing that catches her the most off guard though, is the fucking mustache he has decorating, no, vandalizing his upper lip.

Her own mouth hangs open just a bit, her hand tightening it's grip on the door handle. Bradley shoots her that mega wat smile, that million dollar, dentist office poster smile- the one that made her swoon all those years ago. But now, now it makes her fucking angry. Or maybe it's resentment that she feels boiling up inside of her, steaming her insides with a sort of sick feeling that she hasn't felt in years.

The last time this strange, queasy feeling flowed through her she was wrapped up in the white sheets of her mattress on an aircraft carrier, somewhere out in the pacific. Her naked body feeding off of the warmth of spot that Rooster once occupied. When she awoke, there was a feeling of contentment that spread over her skin, until she reached over to find the spot next to her cold.

Their deployment relationship ended with a fucking post it note, "Duty Calls" is all it read, scribbled down in a mess of black ink, the pen itself skipping. Hell, the pen couldn't even bother to work long enough to get a complete message through- their relationship simmered down to nothing more than steamy nights together in a twin size bunk while the ocean waves rocked against the carrier.

The contentment drained from Monsoon faster than than the anger could take over, and for a moment there was nothingness in the spaces between her ribs.

And now, Bradley fucking Bradshaw is standing on her Pops' front porch, smiling at her like nothing has ever happened between them, holding a bottle of wine, and somehow she is just supposed to let him in!

"Hello," He scratches at the back of his neck, his brows pinched together just the slightest bit. "Is this Admiral Simpson's house?"

Words are caught in the back of Monsoon's throat, each individual letter sticking her in the esophagus. Monsoon stands there looking at Bradley, each growing a bit more uncomfortable as the seconds go by. But, she is on the inside of the doorjamb, she has the upper hand. Just as she goes to slam the door in his fucking ugly mustache, Cyclone catches the door.

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Beau booms, his tone friendly as he sends Monsoon a what the fuck look. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, though it does nothing to relieve the rapidly growing headache that's taking over her skull.

"Come in, come in!" Cyclone practically ushers Bradley into the house. "This is my daughter, Y/N Mitchell, she is in the new Top Gun class as well!"

Beau is doing his best to defuse the tension in the room, between Monsoon's anger, and Bradley's overall discomfort from being in an Admiral's house, the vibes are askew. Bradley crinkles his brows at the information and Beau quickly jumps in with a chuckle, "No relation, but I claim her anyway. Introduce yourself, Son,"

"Brad-"

"We already know each other,"

The pair speak at the same time. Monsoon's tone is full of distain, like the words taste bitter and unforgiving on her tongue. She pushes past Bradley's outstretched hand and past Cyclone. Bradley can't help the fact that his face twists up in confusion as he wracks his brain trying to figure out where exactly he knew her. 

The woman's definitely too upset to be a recent fling- hell, Bradley hasn't even managed to bring a girl back to his place in such a long time. Deployment really limited his prospects and she sure wasn't on the mission he just finished. 

"Please, this way," Cyclone guides Bradley back to the kitchen, taking the bottle of wine from the younger man. They follow the path Monsoon took, down the hall and back to the large kitchen. She is standing at the sink, her hands braced on the counter top.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Bradshaw. If you'll excuse me, I have to speak with my daughter for a second." Cyclone is moving before Bradley can acknowledge him. So, Bradley pretends to be very interested in the view just outside the kitchen window.

"What the hell, kid?" Cyclone carefully grabs Monsoon's elbow, leaning in just a little bit closer to fake some sort of privacy. He sets the bottle of wine on the counter. With all the tension blooming in the air around them, Cyclone decides alcohol is the last thing they need. 

"It's complicated, Pops, just leave it be, okay?" Monsoon is running a hand through her hair, a shallow attempt to ground herself. "I can play nice for one dinner,"

"What the hell happened between you two? And it's not just one dinner, it's the next few weeks."

That fact is met with a grumble from Monsoon. It took her only a few seconds to convince herself that she would be able to make it though a dinner, but the idea of having to see Bradley fucking Bradshaw every day for the foreseeable future had a mixture of nausea and frustration swirling through her. 

"Pops, trust me, this really isn't something you are going to want to hear about, nor do I feel like discussing it in your kitchen, at a whisper, while the man who doesn't even seem to fucking remember me is only a few feet away! No thank you," Monsoon pushes past Cyclone once more, picking up the bowl of salad from the kitchen island and bringing it over to the table. Cyclone is hot on her tail, speaking lowly after her.

"Y/N" That gets her to stop, Beau never uses her first name, "We are not finished discussing this,"

"After supper then," The words leave her tongue sharp, but they are met with a nod of approval. Then Cyclone is moving, ready for the night to move on as planned. 

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Cyclone is turning his attention back to their guest, a makeshift smile plastered to his face, "Please, take a seat, I am just going to grab the food off the grill,"

And then Cyclone is disappearing out the back door, leaving Monsoon and Rooster alone, the room already threatening to burst from the rapidly accumulating tension. Monsoon chances a look at Bradley as she finished setting out the flatware that had been left abandoned earlier, suddenly a little bit glad that her Pops hinted at her to change clothes. She looks good, that much she knows, if only it mattered at this point.

Maybe, if it mattered, Bradley would look at her and realize just how much he walked out on. Maybe he would see the way Cyclone cares for her, and their little family that they've created and know that he threw away his chance to be apart of it. If only he could see just how happy she is now- yet he doesn't even fucking recognize her, and that makes her heart burn like cheap kerosene. It's like gulping down saltwater, the feeling of being forgotten, drowning right out in the open for everyone to see.

As Monsoon is drowning in thoughts of Bradley, he is just trying to remember her.

Bradley takes in the slope of her nose and the freckles that are smattered across her legs. His eyes wander over the frizzy bits of her hair, down the line of her shoulder and ending at the tips of her fingers. The way that she glances at him, her face still turned down as she adjusts the table settings, strikes him as familiar- but in a far off sense of the word. Familiar in the way his own face is reminiscent of his father's. 

His father, Goose, and Maverick... Pete Mitchell... Mitchell!

"Mitchell?" Bradley breaks the silence, his gaze  a bit wider, still locked on her downturned face. Monsoon's eyes shoot up at the name, locking with his dark brown eyes. They bore into her the same way they always had and a part of her aches. 

"Are you-" The breath he sucks into his lungs burns a bit with hazy memory, "Are you Pete Michell's kid?"

An audible, pained groan leaves Monsoon's throat at the question. 

"Not anymore," Are the only words she can manage, the flames of anger licking at her legs.

"But you were, once?" There is almost a ribbon of hope laces somewhere in his tone, but Monsoon pays it no mind. She walks away from the table, keeping her back to Bradley as she attempts to calm the heat of rage that's licking at her legs. 

Why couldn't Bradley just ask her about normal things? Why aren't they talking about work, their partners, their friends. Hell, he could hit on her at this point and it would go over better. 

If he wanted to talk about Maverick- Pete Michell, there were countless times when they were tangled up together in blankets, in the dark save for the crack of light breaking into the room from under the doorway.

He could have asked as they scurried up the stairs of the carrier, their gear smacking against their chests as they ran. Bradley could have asked then, as they bounded out into the early morning, salt soaked air.

Hell, Bradley could have asked over coms, high in the air as the wind whistled past their wings. They were just test flights after all, no enemy to contend with. He could have asked her then.

But he didn't.

"That was a very long time ago," She's turning to the fridge, pulling a pitcher of lemonade out. The sigh that leaves her lips is nothing but tension attempting to escape from the confines of her chest. It doesn't work, and Bradley doesn't catch the hint to just shut the fuck up and leave it be.

"We knew each other, right? When we were kids?" The question catches Monsoon off guard, almost as much as his initial presence did. She wants to laugh, really she does, at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

He didn't remember that fact when they met on the carrier five years ago, and Monsoon tried not to let that bother her, especially when he was buried inside of her, moaning filthy things into her ear. But now? Now he remembers. But somewhere, the memory of their torrid love affair escapes the great mind of Bradley Bradshaw.

"Oh, for fucks sake,"

Though the whole thing is laughable; Bradley isn't laughing. He's holding his breath, too caught up in the scene in front of him, in the soreness of his chest and the way his heart thrums against the backside of his ribcage. 

Fuck how his chest aches. 

There is this part of his past, this piece that he once knew like the back of his hand, that's just in reach now- again, and Monsoon is laughing at him. The memory of her was erased with the sounding of artillery, the three volley's fired into the air. And now, he craves this memory like he craves the memory of his father, the pieces of his innocence having crumbling into his hands like ash.

It still stains his hands that sickly blackish gray, gritty against his skin, though he is the only one that can see it.

The sliding door opens once more and Cyclone is slipping though, holding a large platter of steak in his hand, the meat is grilled to perfection and he looks proud. Bradley looks at Monsoon with furrowed brows, questioning the words that she let slip past her lips. Cyclone steps between them, setting the plate of meat down on to the dinner table, more than enough food to go around.

"Please, Y/N, come and join us," Cyclone is pulling out a seat right next to Bradley, offering it to her. Reluctantly, she pads over, taking a seat next to Bradley who can't seem to take his eyes off of her face. He runs his hands up and down his pant legs, more out of anxiety than anything else. Cyclone takes a seat across from the pair, a tight smile on his face. 

In any other world, it may look like a child introducing their significant other to their father, the way the tension hangs in the air between the trio. Cyclone awkwardly dishes himself servings of the food before passing it to Monsoon, who does the same before placing it down next to her, leaving Bradley to fend for himself. It's petty, that's true, but to Monsoon, it's a small act of defiance. A small fuck you for not remembering her, or the nights they spent together.

The Admiral knows something is going on right under his nose, just out of his understanding. He can see it in the way Monsoon shifts awkwardly in her seat while Bradley's gaze gets overly friendly with the plate in front of him. There's a question on the tip of his tongue, "kid, is Bradley your boyfriend?" but he knows better than to ask it. As he observes longer, he takes in the way his daughter tilts her shoulders just a little further away from Bradley, the arm closest to him resting elbow down on the table. The moment Cyclone notices the unpassed dishes sitting between the pair, he just knows. 

"So," Cyclone clears his throat, "Are you two excited to be back at Top Gun?"

It's a reasonable question, very middle of the road. Monsoon opens her mouth to answer, but Bradley beats her to it.

"Yes, sir. It's good to be back stateside. Hell, it's good to be back on solid ground. I've been stuck on a carrier for the past nine months and I was beginning to lose my mind!" He's chuckling now, and Beau joins in right along side him, the deep chuckles of the men filling the air. "But you know how it can get on the carriers. It's hard to pass the time, no going to the bar with friends, no dating,"

Then, Monsoon's fork hits her plate with a metallic clank against the glass. No dating, yeah, right. Out of all of the things Monsoon pegged Bradley to be, a liar was not one of them, but then again not much could surprise her after the way he left. 

"How about you, kid?"

"To be determined, Pops," The answer is genuine, spoken through grit teeth. 

Maybe she shouldn't be so upset with Bradley's lack of remembrance for her. After all, it's not always the wrong time with the right person. Or the wrong place. Sometimes it's wrong, maybe he just didn't like her that much- more a deployment fling to get him through the lonely nights than a future. 

"Well, I am excited you're back," Cyclone returns her direction, but Monsoon just shoves a fork full of salad into her mouth.

"Sir, can I ask what exactly they called us back for? And are there more of us?" Bradley asks between bites, his fork and knife busy against his plate.

"I am not obliged to share much, but I can tell you that fifteen of you have been called back, from varying Top Gun classes." The explanation leaves something to be desired, but both recruits are nodding on the other side of the table. Bradley eats another bite of steak, complimenting Cyclone on his grilling; Monsoon is just pushing the food around on her plate with the tines of her fork. It's easier than finding the appetite that was lost somewhere between the front door and the kitchen after Bradley's arrival.

"Are you teaching us this go around, Pops?" Monsoon's question is spoken quietly, in the middle of Bradley's sentence about his own grilling technique- there is no remorse for the interruption.

At her words, Cyclone visibly stiffens, his fork stilling on his plate. Then he's setting it down, eyes still locked with his plate. With a huff and a lick of his lips he looks across the table, met with two pairs of curious eyes. He knew this was going to be hard, but he didn't expect it to be quite like this. 

"No, I'm not teaching," Cyclone takes another breathe, unsure who to make eye contact with, knowing the words he's about to say are not going to be received well, by either one of them. "We- Top Gun has decided to bring in-"

The doorbell is ringing loudly through the house, startling Cyclone in his seat. It breaks though the tension like a fucking bullet, the whole thing blasting apart on impact. The trio trade glances that last milliseconds, like someone just knows whos going to be standing on the other side of that door.

"I'll get it, Pops," Monsoon is already pushing out of her seat, placing her napkin next to her plate. She is a bit too eager to get away from the tension surrounding that table, not only from her question but from the way Bradley is basically staring out of the corner of his eye. Though she can't exactly see it happening, she can feel it- the way his eyes are boring into the side of her head, almost burning. She will take anyone being on the other side of that door if it means she doesn't have to sit in Bradley's swimming gaze any longer. 

"No, you stay, I'll get it," Cyclone corrects, "You stay and chat,"

Then, Cyclone is pushing away from the table, heading right for the front door. He gives his daughter no time to protest. Cyclone leaves the slowly rebuilding tension behind him, and Monsoon is stuck having to sit back down, next to Bradley, left to simmer in it.

"We did know each other, right?" Bradley is quick to ask the moment Cyclone rounds the corner. It's a speed he's not used to- too used to sitting and waiting for the perfect timing that just doesn't come. But this isn't something he's willing to wait on, it's just something he has to know.

"Yes, Bradley, we knew each other. But that was a long time ago," Monsoon is shrugging, avoiding his eyes. The words should have hit him harder, from the way they all but flew from her lips, but the impact is almost gentle, like the comfort of them bore the brunt of it all.

"Do you remember my father?" The question is so innocent that it almost hurts; and Monsoon knows just how much throbbing pain there is inside Bradley. After one drunken night while on the carrier, he poured his heart out about his father, about how much he missed him and how he wished- hoped that Goose would have been proud of him. Monsoon sat and listened the to the whole thing, through the tears and drunken hiccups, reassuring Bradley that Goose would be proud of him.

After all, she knewhim, even if that was a million years ago- even if Bradley didn't know it.

She knows he would have been, because Goose was a good man.

A trait that seemed to have skipped over Bradley.

Good men remember their lovers. They remember their old friends. They remember the people who showed up to their mother's funeral- and have the decency to show up to their friends' mother's funeral.  

Good men don't leave women in the dead of night, a break up message scrawled on a sticky note. They don't leave their friends to grieve alone. They don't forget. 

"Yes, I remember him," Monsoon chances a glance at Bradley, unintentionally meeting his eyes. God, he's looking at her like she holds the fucking secrets to the universe and all she can feel is a sort of twisted up sickness, like her sternum is bound together with poisoned ropes. Bradley can see the stars that cling to her fingertips, the secrets to the cosmos, but can't seem to find the words to beg for their translation.

Cyclone is walking back into the room a second later, accompanied by another set of footsteps. Neither Monsoon nor Bradley look up when they walk in, both too busy staring at each other. Bradley looks curious, Monsoon looks hurt. 

She looks away first. 

A tall blond walks in behind Cyclone, his gaze focused on a set of files in his hand. He's reading over the top file carefully, running his free hand through his cropped hair. There is a toothpick in his mouth, resting between his teeth. Dressed in his tan uniform, his biceps are straining against the cuffs.

He's a Stetson model type, clean cut and masculine. The line of his jaw accentuated by the clean lines of his uniform. His jaw ticks with frustration as his brows furrow at the paperwork. There appears to be a word on the tip of his tongue by the way the toothpick bobs between his plump lips.

"Hey, guys, sorry for that, this is-" Cyclone swings his hand, introduction interrupted by twin gasps.

"Jake?!"

"Hangman?"

Hangman isn't sure who to look at first, but his eyes meet Bradley's form first, his eyebrows knitting together at the familiar face before shooting to his hairline when his eyes land on Monsoon sitting next to Bradley.

"Y/N, Doll! What are you doing here?"

Cyclone is whipping his head around in the way he might flip a jet. And Monsoon is pushing out of her chair again, ready to round the table and throw herself into the arms of the strong, blond man who just walked in, but her eyes meet the bewildered look on Cyclone's face, causing her to halt her movements. Hangman sets the paperwork down on the kitchen island, his eyes still locked on Monsoon, that damn smirk of his playing on his lips. Monsoon can tell he is holding himself back, fully aware of exactly who's house he is standing in, and the relationship between Monsoon and the Admiral.

It's been months since they've seen each other. Their goodbyes were said on the front porch of his little rental outside of Lake Hurst. Neither of them relished being in New Jersey, but they had each other and that's all that had mattered. They fostered a brand new relationship over a year, neither of them brave enough to label the nights spent together in that house. 

Then new orders came down the pipeline, on a TS Need-To-Know. The pair were being separated with the flick of a pen. So, they labelled their year long relationship through tears standing on his stoop, the night the orders came down the channel. 

They packed Jake's small house, and Monsoon's apartment, neither one knowing just what was to come. In the name of a temporary duty station, they got storage units next to each other, the closest thing to living together they'd be able to swing. 

That was six months ago. 

Monsoon did a little time in Pensacola while Jake got sent to Oak Harbor. Thousands of miles apart, their dates turned from late night dinners to quick conversations over the phone just to hear the other's voice. 

Neither of them expected their reunion to be here, in Admiral Simpson's kitchen, with Bradley Bradshaw and the Admiral watching the whole thing, confused expressions written into their features. 

"I got recalled to Top Gun!" Monsoon giggles a bit, her gaze still trapped with Hangman's.

"Me too!" The words leave Jake's lips and the pair are smiling. It's taking everything for them to hold themselves back from embracing each other, after months apart. Then, Cyclone is clearing his throat.

"Pops," Monsoon begins, clasping her hands in front of her, "God, this is weird. Remember earlier this evening when I said I wanted to talk to you about something?"

She had fully been intending on telling her Cyclone about her relationship with Hangman, in fact, she had been working up the courage for the past few weeks. But, Jake comes with a record, a reputation, and a respect problem, things Monsoon knows her Pops won't approve of. 

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" The words are leaving Cyclone's lips almost too quick, but Monsoon is quick to reassure him that it is.

"Well, this isn't exactly how I saw this going, but, Pops, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Jake Seresin," Monsoon is gesturing to Jake now, a worried smile on her face. The pair know each other, of course they do. They had met the first time Hangman went through Top Gun. Cyclone was on instructor duty and Hangman didn't take overly well to being instructed; though he did finish top of his class. 

Monsoon bobs up and down on the balls of her feet, the nervous energy flowing through her body. If she could push all the energy out of her and into the floor she would. Her soles grounding the electric current flowing through her, unapologetic and lightning hot. Monsoon would stand there in front of the three men who have played such a large roll in her life, back straight and eyes forward like the Navy trained her to do, if only she could coral that fucking energy and send it straight through the floor.

Monsoon bounces instead.

If she had the time, she could have prevented the look that crosses Cyclone's face. That look of you're not good enough for my kid that is so evident on his features. She knows that Jake saw it, clear as day from the way he almost winces. Everyone in that room knows the reputation that Hangman wears like a neon sign. The "voted biggest player" social life with the stellar callsign, the pilot known for leaving his wingman hanging, acting alone- selfish.

So much for putting off telling Cyclone; so much for easing him into the news. 

Bradley is watching the whole exchange from his seat with his eyebrows raised, like a fucking soap opera but the whole spectacle's happening in real time. He lets his eyes shift from person to person, taking it all in. Monsoon looks hopeful, though she is waiting with baited breath for her Pops to blow a fucking gasket. Jake, on the other hand, looks absolutely cool. Though he is the reason for the interruption, and for the impromptu introduction, he is impossibly collected. Then, Bradley's eyes shift to Cyclone, who has backed up a few steps. He keeps looking between Monsoon and Hangman, like he is playing some sort of invisible game of connect the dots.

Hangman and his fucking reputation are courting his daughter, and Cyclone really isn't thrilled about the news. 

Though Bradley isn't exactly thrilled to see Hangman here either, he's taking the whole thing in stride, as opposed to Cyclone, but the younger man can't exactly blame him. If it were Bradley getting this major bomb dropped on him, he wouldn't be sitting pretty, either. Bradley is bringing his glass up to his lips, his eyes still flashing between the trio.

"Monsoon-" Cyclone starts, but the sound of coughing interrupts. Bradley is coughing, choking on his water. He attempts to wave a hand, letting everyone know he's okay, but in reality, he's far from it.

Monsoon. The woman he left asleep in her bunk five years ago stands next to him now, and not only that, they fucking grew up together, at least for a little while. And she remembers his Dad, and she's Maverick's kid. And fuck, she's dating Hangman!

Things are moving just a bit too fast, and Bradley can't quite catch his breath between coughing fits. 

The glass is quickly set back onto the kitchen table, but is sent over the edge as Bradley reaches for a napkin. The glass falls in faux slow motion, the liquid flowing from the cup as it hits the hardwood, shattering like a pinprick galaxy upon the floor. Bradley, still coughing, searches the new formation of cosmos on the floor for the answer to all the mixed up bullshit he has found himself in.

"Rooster?" Monsoon pats him harshly on the back, right between his shoulder blades. Then, she is rubbing his back, her hand full of warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt. His skin burns under her touch as he struggles to return his breathing to normal. There's still a knot in the back of his throat made of unsaid words and new revelations that he can't seem to swallow down. 

"Rooster, are you okay?"

Hangman and Cyclone are quick to circle around the table, Hangman taking a knee next to Monsoon, his hand quickly finding her lower back. Cyclone is on the other side of Bradley, the glass crunching under his expensive leather loafers. Bradley is red from all the coughing, but an embarrassed blush still floods his skin from all the attention.

"Mons?" The nickname comes out all scratchy as Rooster wipes a newly formed tears from his eyes. The concerned expression morphs to hold a bit of shock before settling on some sort of mix of frustration and downright sadness. Monsoon tries to school her expression but her eyes still swim with emotion as they are locked with Bradley's.

"Yeah, Roos," Monsoon shoots his nickname right back, a confirmation that all but shakes the world around Bradley. She brings a tender hand up to squeeze his shoulder before pulling back, subconsciously leaning closer to Hangman, into the warmth of his hand on her back. She finds safety in her boyfriend's touch, the warmth of his skin pooling against her through the fabric of her dress. 

The lack of contact makes Rooster feel cold, but the feeling is short lived as Cyclone is grasping at his other shoulder. A swivel of his head and Bradley is met with the furrowed brows of the Admiral.

"Are you okay, Mr. Bradshaw?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley responds, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "I'm so sorry about the glass, please, let me clean it up,"

As Rooster stands, he is pushed back down gently by Cyclone, his hand still on the younger man's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it, please," And so Bradley is sitting again, in the center of the standing trio, feeling completely out of place. "As for the two of you, take a seat, we have some things to discuss,"

The sound of chairs being pulled out against the hard wood floor is accompanied by the intense ringing of the doorbell once again. The group look from person to person, once again looking for any clue as to who could be at the front door this time. Cyclone is padding over to the door, the crunching of glass less evident the further away her gets.

Bradley attempts to clear the lump in his throat, now without the luxury of his glass of water. Monsoon takes her untouched glass and slides it closer to Bradley, a barely there smile on her face. Her expression holds more sympathy than anything. Bradley takes the glass with both hands, a little too careful as he brings it up to his lips. 

"Let me get you a plate, okay?" Monsoon speaks to Hangman, her smile clearly wider, brighter, more full of life when it's directed his way. "Pops will give me so much grief if he comes back and that spot isn't set,"

So, Monsoon excuses herself from the table, leaving the men sitting in apprehensive silence. 

With a strong tug from Cyclone, door swings open and there is no time for a 'hello' as the man on the other side is pushing in, a wild look in his eye, a vein on his forehead bulging with frustration.

"We need to talk Simpson," The tone holds misplaced authority. Beau runs cold at the sight of Pete "Maverick" fucking Michell standing in his entryway, looking pissed off enough to catch a charge.

"That's Admiral Simpson to you Captain," Cyclone's teeth are grit so hard they might crack under the pressure of his jaw. "You cannot be here right now,"

The raised hand does nothing to stop Maverick from pushing further into the house. There's a folder in his hand, wrinkling under the closing of his fist. Sweat clings to the Admiral's brow, a vision of the crown of thorns, droplets running down the side of his face. It might as well have been blood from the way his stomach twists as Maverick steps closer to him, pushing the paperwork, right against the center of his chest.

"Do you know who got recruited for this mission, huh?" The words are dripping with venom, "Do you realize who you've chosen for this fucking death wish of a goddamn mission?"

Captain Michell's tone is all accusatory and full fury. He's pushing into Cyclone's chest harder, his knuckles white under the pressure. Cyclone grabs at the older man's wrist, his own knuckles paling as he squeezes.

"Captain, I will not repeat myself, you cannot be here,"

"Who is it, Pops?" Monsoon is calling from around the corner, her voice full of curiosity. Cyclone isn't a praying man, especially after what happened with June and their sweet baby boy, but now Cyclone is praying to every god, every deity that crosses his mind, even those who's names he cannot recall, that his daughter will not walk around the corner to see Pete Mitchell standing in his entry way.

"Nobody, kid, I'll be there in just a moment," He calls before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. He tightens his grip on Pete's wrist before he's wrenching it away from his chest. He pushes it back into Pete's own chest, leaning in close, "My daughter is not to see you here, leave. Now."

One might think Maverick would get the hint, since he pulls his hand from Cyclones grip. But then, Maverick is throwing open the file, pointing at the first page's photo. There is so much frustration in the action, it bounces between the two men like they're sounding boards, building and building.

"See this? Jake "Hangman" Seresin? You really want to send somebody in the sky who has a pension for leaving their wingman? You want to send someone into the air with a guy like him when the mission is already guaranteeing a loss of life?" 

That catches the attention of the trio in the other room. All motion stills as they strain to hear more. 

Wide mouthed, pointed tongue, Maverick is yelling without a care in the world. It doesn't matter who hears as long as Cyclone is hearing it too.

"And how about this," The paper tears as Maverick turns the page, "Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. You know about his father. You damn well know about Goose and you want to send his son to an early grave too?"

Jaws tick, fists tighten. Cyclone breathes deeply, thinking- choosing his words carefully as the older man continues to scream. It's not beautiful or noble like books would describe. There is no gift from God, no blessing, no one anointed with the ability to see into the future, to see just how this is going to play out. Instead, it's just words exchanged between mortal men, both too damn stubborn to back down with knives to each other's throats.

"And check out these two," Maverick is laughing now, leaning in closer to Cyclone, his breathe reeking of whiskey. Cyclone can see the way Maverick's eyes are bloodshot and weepy as he pushes him back. Sweat coats his skin leaving him clammy to the touch. 

"Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Robert "Bob" Floyd," Another strangled laugh escapes Captain Mitchell, "You really think this scrawny kid and a woman are up to the task at hand? Really? I can think of at least five better pilots and Wizzos who are better qualified than these two. And look! She's the pilot! Hell, I don't even know how they made it through Top Gun the first time around! The fucking Navy is getting soft."

"It's time for you to go, Captain Mitchell. Sober up. We will discuss this on Monday," Cyclone puts a hand to the older man's shoulder, attempting to usher him out without too much force. Cyclone can't risk Maverick being in his house any longer. He has already been gone too long and his guests are likely getting curious. "Time to go, Pete,"

"But, Cyclone, you haven't even heard the best part," Maverick can barely get the words out through drunken laughter. He's turning the page with clumsy fingers, the paper tearing under his touch.

The trio, Rooster, Monsoon, and Hangman round the corner as Cyclone is attempting to usher Maverick out the front door. They watch as the Maverick stumbles out of Cyclone's grip and further into the house.

"Pops?" Monsoon speaks as the strange man hits the floor, laughing as he does. The file has fallen open, scattering pictures of the newest Top Gun brain child called The Dagger Squad. They sit scattered all over the entry way like freshly fallen snow. Her eyes go to the paper that falls near her feet. 

"Well if it isn't the prodigal child," Maverick speaks, pushing himself further off the floor. "How many strings did you have to pull to get your own daughter onto the squad? Are you trying to send this kid to an early grave like the last one?"

The three Daggers stand speechless. Monsoon is quickly folded under Hangman's arm, her face pressed into his chest. Rooster stands just off to the side of them, his eyes flashing to Monsoon. 

The arguing doesn't stop.

"Shut your mouth," Cyclone spits, "You don't know a goddamn thing,"

Maverick stumbles to his feet, standing up at straight as possible to get into Cyclone's face, just to taunt the younger man.

"See, Admiral, that's not true, now is it? You and I both know that she isn't actually yours and this would be an easy way to get rid of her, right? Send her back to-"

His words are met with a swift punch to the face, the cartilage of his nose crunching under Cyclone's knuckles. The punch feels good, like it had been coming for a long, long time. Like it had been building within Beau Simpson for years, every single time Maverick missed out on a celebration of the amazing life Monsoon is leading. For every birthday, every graduation, every reenlistment and promotion ceremony, Maverick missed it all, and the rage built inside Cyclone. Now, it finally came out, popped like a Champaign cork, blood instead of the fizzy alcohol dotting itself over Cyclone's entryway.

A warm hand slips into Monsoon's; Bradley stepped closer, clutching onto her. He recognized Pete Mitchell the moment he got a clear view, both his anger and anxiety flaring. Bradley squeezed her hand once, nice and strong, before dropping it once more, stepping in front of her and Hangman.

"Captain Mitchell," Bradley begins, his voice firm, full of hurt.

The words make Monsoon's head spin. She leans away from her boyfriend's chest to get a better look at the bloody faced man and it sends a chill down her spine. Her Dad who she hasn't seen in years is now standing in a room full of people who can't fucking stand his existence. It's a fucking miracle that all he has is a bloody nose.

"Bradley," Pete spits a little bit of blood as he speaks, looking up at the younger man. He reaches a hand out, but it's dodged. "It's good to see you, son,"

"I'm not your son. It's time for you to go," Bradley is ready to grab Pete Mitchell by the collar and haul him out of the house. He's ready to throw him onto the lawn and leave him there to spit blood and sober up enough until he can walk himself home. Bradley has his own selfish reasons, his own grudge against the Captain, and now would be as good a time as any to feed into that frustration that he's been stewing in for years.

"I'm calling Admiral Kazansky," Cyclone declares to the room, then he's spinning on his heel the moment Bradley takes a step closer, clearly putting himself between Maverick and Monsoon.

The Admiral is ordering Hangman to move, to take his daughter anywhere else so that she doesn't have to see any more of the disaster that the night has turned out to be. He doesn't want her to see him throw Maverick out- hell, he didn't want her to see him punch the older man, but there's no going back in time. 

As much as Cyclone wishes he could have protected her from this, he couldn't. One can't stop a speeding bullet, as they say, and the shot had already been fired the moment he pulled open the front door. And as much as he doesn't want to, Cyclone has to trust Hangman with his daughter, he just has to, now. 

So, Hangman is all but carrying Monsoon away as she fights to stay put. She misses the order from her Pops, her blood thrumming too loudly through her ears. Hangman takes her through the house, dodging the pile of glass still glittering on the hardwood in the kitchen, hauling her out the backdoor and right to his truck. Monsoon flights the whole time, though it's unclear as to her reason to want to say behind.

The pair are pulling away from the house as Bradley and Beau are hauling Maverick out to the front lawn, his nose still pouring blood.

Jake drives in the direction of his apartment, holding onto her hand the whole time. He squeezes it reassuringly though there isn't much he can assure her of at the moment. Neither of them know what's going to come of Maverick, or of Cyclone's heated action against him. They don't know if Bradley is going to get caught in the crossfire, or if they are going to get called into the MP's office sometime in the middle of the night.

There is no clear answer, so, Hangman squeezes her hand and drives.

And drives.

And drives.

As far away as he can get from that house, that situation, the feeling in his chest spurred on by the broken look in Monsoon's eyes.

He drives until the sun crests over the horizon. Pulling off onto the side of the highway, Hangman kills the headlights, the world around them just beginning to come to life. That's when the tears come, falling fast and hard from the pools of Monsoon's eyes. Hangman just holds her there, inside of the truck.

The world around them awakens as Monsoon's falls apart, crumbling like unquenched Earth between her fingers. Maybe that's what the whole situation is, after all, how many times have the great authors related relationships to gardens, to plants, to life. Without nurture, without care and tending, the soil dries out, the plants die. The whole garden becoming a wasteland for the decaying plant matter; the soil turning to clay as the days roll on.

But isn't decay an unescapable fact of life?

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. Two weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad.

Hangman had completely expected to pretend like the whole fight at the Admiral's house didn't happen when he met up with the other recruits at the bar, save for Monsoon. He took a little too much joy ordering drinks for the team on Maverick's tab- the older man not seeming to remember him from the incident, even after Hangman sent him a wink and a "thanks, Pops,".

When Bradley strutted in like the world was full of golden promise, Hangman took it upon himself to act like it was the first time they had seen each other in years. Bradshaw was quick to get the memo: last week didn't happen.

There's no surprise that Maverick got thrown out of the Hard Deck that night, either. Hangman sure as hell wasn't expecting to be the one to throw Maverick out of the bar, but that part gave him a sense of pride that he can't quite put words to.

The feeling bloomed in his chest as he watched Maverick hit the sand. A wide smile spread across his face as he yelled for him to "come back anytime," if that meant getting more free alcohol and the chance to throw him out again. Then, as Hangman closed the doors behind him while Rooster began one hell of a rendition of "Great Balls of Fire", everything felt like it was going to be okay.

Oh boy, how wrong he was.

Tensions are high now, Hangman and Rooster's rivalry is back and stronger than ever. They have been at each other's throats since that night at the Hard Deck, though the reason wasn't the mission or the usual dick measuring contest, even if the other recruits would say that it is.

They have been battling it out over a woman. Monsoon, specifically. The team doesn't know about her involvement with Hangman, and the pair try and keep it that way. So, she sits in the back of the classroom, right behind Yale and does her best to pay attention. The mission seems more impossible by the minute, the deadline has been moved up, and nobody has been successful.

Rooster and Maverick argue about the plane vs the pilot and how he had been the only one to make it to the target, though it was a minute late.

Then, Hangman opens his fucking mouth, living up to that reputation of his. "It's no time to be thinking about the past,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rooster's expression is unreadable, though his brows twitch.

"I can't be the only one that knows Maverick flew with his old man!" Hangman continues through Maverick's pleas, "Or that he was the one flying when-"

Rooster is out of his seat in a matter of seconds, launching himself at his fellow Lieutenant. Hangman took it too far this time. Rooster gets one good push in before the rest of the squad are separating the two hot headed men from each other, everyone yelling for the fighting to stop.

Everyone but Monsoon, who sits in the back staring at the fight in front of her and can't seem to make herself move.

"You son of a bitch!"

"Hey, hey, I'm cool, I'm cool," Hangman reassures, pulling out of the arms of his teammates.

"He's not cut out for this mission, you know it... You know I'm right." He gets up into Bradley's face, a fucking smirk on his lips. The others are still holding Bradley back as he calms down, but it's that fucking smirk that spurs him on.

Bob's hands slip from Rooster's shoulders as he gets into Hangman's face. "You think you can talk shit about my family when it's your girl that's got the most fucked up situation of all," Bradley keeps his eyes trained on Hangman, but the blonde's eyes tick to the side, in the direction of Monsoon, who is still in her seat. It's Bob who notices the way Hangman's eyes shift, and he's the first person to look in Monsoon's direction. Then, Bob's nudging Phoenix. 

They watch as Monsoon tenses in her seat, her jaw ticking. Her hands grip the arms of her chair, knuckles white. Then, Bob and Phoenix turn their attention back to the men as the screaming match continues. 

"I'm not the one who broke up with her on a goddamn post-it note, Rooster," Hangman points out with a raise of his brows, that stupid little smirk still evident on his lips. Rooster is bringing his hands up to his temples, his expression scrunched.

"You son of a bitch," Rooster is cursing at him through grit teeth, his voice low.

The crowd of Aviators are still gathered around the two men watching them fight, Maverick's eyes flicking between them as words are exchanged. His mind flashes back to two weeks ago, when he broke down the Admiral's door and saw them standing there with Cyclone. He suddenly flashes his eyes back to Monsoon, only to be met with her piercing glare.

"What? Was taking her father for yourself not good enough for you? Did you have to break her heart too?" Hangman questions, watching as Bradley's face contorts, "You're just pissed because not only could you not keep your shit Rio of a father around, you couldn't keep the girl, either,"

"That's enough!" Monsoon shouts, her eyes finally leaving Maverick. The Daggers' eyes are locked on Monsoon at the back of the makeshift classroom, anger evident on her features. Then, with her hands firmly planted on the table in front of her, she is pushing up from her seat.

"Seresin," Monsoon begins, turning her eyes to him, "First, you will not speak about my uncle that way. Goose was a good man and a damn good Rio. Uncle Nicky would have moved the fucking Earth for Bradley, or for Maverick, or for me and my Mama, don't you dare think anything different."

Monsoon is moving closer to the group now, taking each step slowly, methodical as her words. There is a large, yellow envelope tucked under her arm as she approaches. She had been sitting with that envelope since their first class, no one having even the slightest idea what's tucked inside.

"Secondly, Rooster, my relationship with Jake is not your business, not now, not ever. What we had was over the moment you wrote that post-it and walked out the door. You didn't even remember the fact that we grew up together, for fucks sake. I get it, I was your little deployment fling, and that's all. Now, you get to live with the fact that's all I'll ever be. Hangman put you in your place, now say in it."

The crowd is too stunned to speak, but there is a rumble of laughter that escapes Maverick. He doesn't even try to hide it, thinking the tension in the air would be enough to cover it. But then, Monsoon is turning her pointed gaze to him.

"Finally, Captain Mitchell," There is a sick little smirk on her lips as she says his name, "I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. After all, Bradley had to get his pension for forgetting women from somebody."

Monsoon is standing toe to toe with Maverick now, eyes locked in on his, "After all, I've been in this class for what, two weeks, and I know you have had the roster for longer than that, considering that little stunt you pulled at my Pop's house. You think it's funny to forget someone when your own flesh and blood is standing right in front of you?"

Maverick furrows his brow, head cocking to the side. Monsoon can practically see the gears turning in his head with the way his eyes move across her features. She breathes deeply a couple of times, letting his mind piece the puzzle together.

"I asked you a question, but go ahead, take your time," Monsoon leans in just a fraction further, "After all, I'm told I look more like my mother, anyway," Wide eyes from the man in front of her stir out a strangled giggle from her chest.

"Wha- bu-" Maverick flounders, his mouth opening and closing, no words forming on his lips.

"Hi, Dad," The name is said with so much venom as she pushes the envelope against his chest with enough force to make him stumble. Monsoon doesn't wait for him to recover before she is turning to walk down the aisle of the makeshift classroom, paying no attention to the stares, the eyes burning holes into the back of her head. Instead she focuses on the momentary feeling of lightness that washes over her as she leaves the hanger.

It isn't until Monsoon rounds the corner that the tears begin pricking at her eyes. She takes off running as soon as the first one hits her cheek, the only thing she can hear over the rushing of blood in her ears is the thunking of her heavy boots on the pavement.

The Daggers stand looking at Maverick. He's holding the envelope to his chest, unsure of the emotions wracking though his body. Then, with a quick hand, he's crudely tearing at the envelope. The contents pour out over the floor of the hanger, looking just like that night at Admiral Simpson's house. Maverick tries to push that thought from his mind as his eyes focus in on the papers covering the floor.

Birthday Cards. Children's birthday cards.

The same ones he wrote to her for her first ten birthdays. He can't even get himself to bend down to pick one up, his neck aching from the way he stares down at them. He notices the little circles of wrinkled paper from long dried tears and his heart fucking breaks. 

The image of Monsoon at four, at seven, that he can see clearly in his mind, but there's a gap missing. Still, Maverick imagines her sitting and rereading the cards at seventeen, at twenty-two, crying over them and the father she could barely remember. Tears prick at Mavericks eyes and he lets them, making no attempt to wipe them away. 

It doesn't take long for the Daggers to figure out that the pile of cards is noticeably small, no more than nine or ten cards on the ground, though no one is near brave enough to say anything.

Moments like this remind Maverick he's still just a mere man. No matter how many records he breaks, aircrafts he tests, or brushes with death he encounters, Maverick is nothing more than a man with a skill set. He has flaws. He makes mistakes. 

That fact is almost too much for him to take. 

The memory of Goose flashes through his mind, the moments leading up to the failed ejection birth the feeling of ocean water weighing down his flight suit, soaking into the padding of his helmet as the water washes over them. So much blood where there should be none. And then Maverick is thinking about cleaning the scraped knees of his daughter, the blood bubbling up through the road rash. The tears, then, were hers as she begged, "Daddy, not the ouch-y cleaner, I don't like it,". But Maverick cleaned her wounds with the alcohol anyway, only to end up holding her against his chest in the same way he would hold Goose in less than a year. 

Maverick's mind is a patchwork quilt of shit memories; stuck reliving them all, fragment by fragment. 

"Class dismissed," Maverick manages, his eyes still glued to the floor. The sounds of fourteen pairs of boots, first loud then quieter as they go, leave the hanger, leaving him standing there, looking at the past he threw away illustrated simply in faded and forgotten birthday cards.

The hands of the clock circle once before Maverick moves. He walks right over the pile, his boots leaving angry, dark tread marks across the colorful paper. He doesn't look back once, not at the pile of cards, not at the hanger, not at the base. 

He drives straight for the Hard Deck. It's the only thing he can think to do, and after all, maybe Penny has some sort of advice. She's the only person he actually knows with a kid- a daughter.

Maverick only makes it half way before he has to pull over. Quickly, he throws himself off his bike, his knees hitting the dirt as he empties the contents of his stomach. As a pilot, he should have a stronger stomach than this, but a choice he made almost eighteen years ago is coming back to haunt him. 

He can still see Monsoon's eyes in the forefront of his mind. They haven't changed a bit from when she was a kid, Maverick realizes, as he's sat back on his haunches trying not to puke again. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing at the feeling of his swirling stomach. 

Maybe he should have stuck around, or at least circled back when he wasn't on deployment. After all, Maria left messages on his machine for almost two years after he up and left. It started with her begging to call which slowly turned into begging him to at least send a fucking birthday card. So he did. 

Then, she stopped calling, and he stopped writing. Monsoon grew up. 

It would be so easy to blame Maria. When she stopped calling, he stopped remembering. Between deployments and missions, flight tests and ceremonies, Maverick could pretend that it all got lost in the shuffle. But then, he remembers Maria and the way she always seemed to flawlessly manage her Naval carrier with raising their daughter, how she could juggle it all without his help when he was deployed and it was all okay. At least that's what he told himself. 

So, he thought if she could do it alone already, no harm could come from putting in for extra duty. That turned into extra deployments, more time away from home. He knew it was all a lie, but he had to tell himself something to justify it. 

It did get easier after a while, as his daughter slowly slipped to the back of his mind. It wasn't until one day, six years after he left that the realization hit him. Maverick hadn't thought of his daughter in months. He should have felt more guilty; he drank himself sick at the thought.

Two years later Maverick didn't even realize he missed her eighteenth birthday. 

Or her twenty-first. 

Over the years he convinced himself he did the right thing. That part of his past became a distant memory that he told himself he didn't miss. Maverick would be lying to himself if he still believed that to be true in this moment, sat on the side of the road after having been faced with the consequences of his long forgotten actions. 

Maverick kept one constant reminder playing on repeat in his mind all those years, You can't be a bad father if you aren't there to be one at all. 

And for the first time since he walked out, Maverick thinks he may have been wrong. 

He sits on the side of the road until the sun sets, stewing in his misery. When he manages to pull himself back up onto his bike, he heads for home, knowing that if Penny knew the whole story he would be on the outs with her, too. And so, he drives slowly, back to an empty house, wishing for the first time in years that it wouldn't be empty when he got there. 

---

When Monsoon finally reached Cyclone's office, eight blocks from the hanger, she almost collapsed in the entryway of the building. But, she pushed through the crowd, ignoring the calls of his assistant who insisted that Cyclone could not be interrupted while he was in a meeting. Monsoon couldn't find it in herself to care. 

When she pushes the door to his office open, she is met with three pairs of eyes. Iceman, Warlock, and Cyclone's eyes meet her frame. She is breathing heavy from the mix of running and sobbing, though it's unclear as to which is causing the redness in her cheeks. 

"Excuse me, recruit, but you can't-" Warlock starts, closing the file sitting in his lap. There is an edge to his tone, not taking too kindly to being interrupted. 

"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" Cyclone is cutting off Warlock without a second thought. The moment he moves out from behind his desk, Monsoon is throwing herself into his arms, her barely contained tears now overflowing. Without a second thought, Cyclone is folding her into his arms, doing his best to hold her shaking form. 

"I'm sorry, sir, I tried to stop her," Cyclone's assistant huffs, running a hand through his hair. Cyclone waves the younger man off, the door closing behind him with a click. Then, Cyclone is wrapping his daughter tighter in his arms, one hand coming up to rub between her shoulders while the other is wrapped securely around her waist. 

"I'm sorry, gentleman, but the meeting will have to be continued another time," Cyclone speaks, his tone clear, unwavering. Warlock shakes his head but gets up to leave anyway. Iceman follows after him, nodding a sort of good luck to his fellow Admiral before closing the door behind him. 

"Tell me what's wrong, kid," Cyclone is pulling back, his hands squeezing at her shoulders. Monsoon is rubbing at her cheeks, smearing her tears over the expanse of her face. It's the same ugly cry she had when they first met, and the connection make's Cyclone's heart twist. 

"I-" She starts, sentence interrupted by a hiccupping gasp, "Everything is falling apart," 

Monsoon tries to wipe at her face again with her hands, but Cyclone plunges a hand into his pocket only to offer her a green pocket hanky a second later. She takes it with unsteady fingers, her heart still thrumming a mile a minute. 

"Hangman and Rooster got in a fight in class. Jake said a shitty thing about my uncle Nicky, Goose, you know?" 

"Bradley shoved Jake, which isn't exactly a surprise, but then he told everyone that my family situation is all kinds of fucked up, which it is, but it's nobody else's business. God, Pops, I know now that I made a mistake when I started seeing Rooster while we were on deployment together, but God, that was five years ago! It's in the past!"

Cyclone nods at her, listening intently while trying to keep calm. So much new information is being thrown at him with each sentence that leaves her lips and it makes him angry. 

"Worst of all, though," Monsoon wipes at her nose with the hanky, "Maverick knows,"

"He knows?" 

"I told him," She confirms with a whimper and a nod, not daring to meet Cyclone's eyes. If she managed to meet them, she would have been met with nothing but rage boiling behind his irises, red hot flames behind the dark brown of his eyes. 

"I had to, everything was already coming out anyway," She laments. 

"What did he have to say for himself?" The question is asked through grit teeth as he pulls her body tighter against his, a move meant to feel protective but does nothing to quell the flames burning Cyclone from the inside out. All Monsoon can do is shake her head "no" as she sobs against the denseness of his chest. 

"I'm gonna kill him" is all Cyclone can think as he rests his chin against her hair. His jaw ticks as the flaming feeling overtakes his body. If he could, he would strip Maverick of every single one of his achievements, his medals, his rank. He would cut the older man down so far that he was nothing more than a civilian with a dishonorable discharge. 

But he can't.

So instead, he holds his daughter as she cries. He lets her tears soak the tan fabric of his uniform top, the buttons scraping against her skin. He rubs her back and whispers into her hair, promises that everything will be okay. 

---

Somewhere in the Pacific. The Uranium Mission. Three weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad. 

Moments after the Uranium mission is completed, the team piled on the aircraft carrier, all grateful to be alive. Monsoon and Hangman got sent up to shoot down the enemy aircraft, saving Maverick and Rooster. The whole thing left nothing but swirls of confusion and gratitude in Monsoon's heart. 

On one hand, she is so thankful that everyone made it back home. There will be no funerals, no folded flags and no Taps to be played. Instead there will be celebrations, beer and cheering and one too many speeches for a job well done. The whole thing should be liberating as their impending doom has been starved off for the time being, however there is still a feeling of anxiety sitting heaving in her chest.  

Now, Monsoon is stuck watching the pair climb out of the museum piece that they managed to land on the carrier. The wind is whipping past them as she watches the team embrace the two men. Her strangled feelings clog her chest as she makes her way into the fray, first approaching Bradley. 

"Glad to have you back on the ground," Monsoon shouts over the crowd.

"It's good to be back, even if it's not quite the ground," Bradley attempts to joke, "But seriously, we owe everything to you and Hangman," 

"Nobody left behind," Monsoon holds her hand out to Bradley, a gesture of good will. 

"Nobody left behind," Rooster echoes, taking her hand in his own. 

As they shake hands, a sort of understanding forms between them. They share a look, one that reads no hard feelings and Bradley almost tears up. Then, they are pulling back from each other, sharing one last smile. 

Monsoon watches Bradley disappear into the crowd, his tall frame quickly swallowed up by the sea of uniforms. She catches him shake hands with Hangman a moment later, the scene bringing a small smile to her lips. 

Then, Maverick catches her eye, standing a few yards away. There are tears shining in his eyes, but he makes no effort to move forward. They share eye contact for a moment as people move between them. Monsoon offers him a half smile, her brows lifted just slightly. Before Maverick can return it, she nods at him. He nods back, then it's his turn to watch her disappear into the crowd.

It's not quite an understanding, but maybe it's a truce.

At the risk of breaking her own heart, Monsoon chances a look over her shoulder. She watches as Maverick pulls Bradley into a hug, or maybe it's the other way around, it's hard to tell with the swarming of bodies. Either way, the pair wear bright smiles as they embrace and Monsoon doesn't even try to fight off the tears that make their way to her eyes. They aren't tears of anger, no, they are tears of gratitude. Grateful that they all get to live another day, grateful that Maverick and Bradley are giving each other a second chance, and grateful that there isn't a looming cloud hanging over her head anymore. 

She no longer has to wonder about her father, because now she knows he's exactly where he is supposed to be, and both of their lives are better for it. Instead, she has Cyclone, the best father she could have ever asked for, and that is more than enough. 

Cyclone breaks through the crowd, pulling his daughter into his arms, more than thankful for her safe return. He shouts at her, over the crowd, about how well she did and how happy he is that she made it back. The pair hold each other tight for another few moments, neither ready to let go. 

Maverick takes one more look at Monsoon, who's now folded into Cyclone's arms. It's an unfamiliar sight but not an unwelcomed one, for Maverick. One thing's for sure, she is exactly like her Pops- disciplined and talented in the cockpit of a jet. Even more, though, beyond being a good aviator, she is a good person and that's something that Maverick can't regret. 

---

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. One year after the completion of the Uranium Mission and the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A year later, Cyclone and Monsoon find themselves sitting in The Flight Line Bar, her hand thrust out in front of her, ring glittering under the amber lights. 

"You're going to give me away at my wedding, right?" There is a sort of apprehension to her voice as she sips on her beer. 

"It would be my honor, kid," Cyclone slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her sideways into him. He holds her there for a second before letting her sit back upright, a large smile on her lips. 

"Y/N Seresin has a good ring to it," Cyclone adds, bringing his beer up to his lips. 

"About that," Monsoon starts, causing the Admiral to set his beer down, "Jake and I had a conversation, and we thought that having two Aviators in the same squad with the same last name would get confusing, so it's going to be Y/N Simpson, if that's okay with you,"

The Admiral's eyes flood with tears before he can say a single word. They quickly spill down his cheeks and all he can do is look at his daughter, tears of her own overtaking her eyes. 

"I take that as a "yes"?" Monsoon chuckles, wiping her eyes with a shitty bar napkin. 

"Of course it's a yes, kid," Cyclone grabs her hand, holding it on top of the bar. 

The pair sit, hand in hand , tears still wet on their faces and all Cyclone can think about is how fucking lucky he got, how blessed his life is. He finally has a daughter who is happy and in love, a daughter that he will get to walk down the aisle on the most important day of her life. 

When he chances a glance over to her, Cyclone can see the frizz of her hair highlighted by the neon sign buzzing behind her, her cheeks bright red. For a moment, he can see June in the roundness of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Cyclone thinks back to all those years ago, when he and Monsoon first met sitting in this same bar, but he doesn't entertain the memory very long, after all, he has so much to look forward to. So instead, he squeezed her hand. 

"I love you, kid," Beau tells her earnestly, smiling though a few stray tears. 

"I love you too, Pops," Monsoon returns, leaning her head on his shoulder, "Now and always," 

TAG LIST

@its-the-pilot

@t4medicroe

@inkandarsenic

[ratquesadilla]

3005 (chapter 3)

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x fem! mitchell! oc

word count: 2231

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41505768/chapters/106035918

“it’s an existential thing”

a story where the return of north island's resident player leaves a girl with a lot of influence in a predicament.

chapter 2 - series masterlist - full masterlist

----

jake seresin was a confusing man. naval aviators were cocky and headstrong, no doubt about it. my own father was guilty of that. he would admit he was an asshole when he was at top gun, but uncle tom had a million stories. like that one time when he and goose got all of the pilots to serenade a lady he talked to once. 

but jake was different. he used shitty pickup lines and thought he was a gift from god with how well he could fly, he was a textbook dick. maybe it was me, but a single kiss turned him into a lovestruck idiot. like he had a proper teenage girl crush. there was something about that 6’0” blonde manchild that made me want to break my rule, let another pilot into my life. and now that manchild was on my doorstep, very drunk and very cute. 

“why is there a shitfaced pilot on my porch.” i said, sounding eerily like carole whenever bradley and i would come home after a night of teenage shenanigans.

“hangman here drank a little too much and bringing him back to base would be a huge no-no.” the aviator in front of me replied. 

“i don’t even know your name and you want me to take care of jake?” i questioned, rolling my eyes and reluctantly beginning to lead seresin into the living room.

“it’s coyote.” he said, extending a hand but quickly dropping it. realizing that i had my hands full with the manbaby in my house. “and you wouldn’t do it for free, were all going to fanboys lake house after the mission and you’re invited.”

“deal, but you have to pick him up tomorrow there’s no way in hell i’m waking up at the ass crack of dawn to drive seresin to the base.” i said, leading payback to the door. “and i need a real name, no callsigns in the house. caroles rule, not mine.” 

“javy machado.” he replied, almost at his car “thanks for taking care of hangman, we all appreciate it.” 

this was the last thing i imagined myself doing on a sunday night, especially after the events that transpired at the hard deck. it was bad enough that there was a passed out pilot on my (very nice) couch, but did it have to be seresin of all people? god? i thought, are you mad at me? if this is about me skipping church i’m really really sorry, but did you have to send me a very drunk jake as punishment? seresin was out cold, and it was very late, but i couldn’t leave him to fend for himself. i took his shoes off, leaving them by the door, and draped a quilt over his freakishly tall body. his legs were hanging off the couch, dangling like wilting flowers. part of me wanted to let him go in tomorrow terribly hungover, but i couldn’t. i left him instructions for carole’s magic hangover cure on the coffee table, and laid all the ingredients out in the kitchen. this is just so he doesn’t destroy your kitchen, i thought, and flying with a hangover is never a good idea. someone could get hurt. but the tiny voice in my heart told me otherwise, jake seresin captivated me. i wanted to know everything about him, and i wanted him to know everything about me. 

——

jake was gone when i woke up. so was the note, and everything i’d left out from the night before. the blanket covering the couch instead of folded on the armchair like it usually was. other than that it was like he was never here. i sat where he was sleeping just hours before, trying to figure out how jake managed to get that drunk. at his age he would be able to handle his alcohol, no doubt about it, so why was he more shitfaced than a teenage girl after homecoming? he was cocky but he was smart enough to know when to stop drinking, so a drinking game couldn’t be a possibility, so what the fuck was it? 

i thought about ask natasha, she would probably tell you the truth, but quickly shut the idea down. whatever he did last night was his business. 

——

the rest of the day was a blur; i ran errands, picked amelia up from school (penny was picking up the boat), and visited uncle tom. 

iceman was getting worse, we could all tell, but no one wanted to admit the worst. 

“he thinks of you like a daughter,” sarah said as i was leaving his office, “even if he already has his own.”

“i know.” i replied, tears forming in my eyes. i’d never call him that, but iceman was the closest thing i had to a real father. i’m sure if you asked bradley he would say the same thing. both of us were left fatherless at a young age and tom was there to fill the gap. “has my dad come to see him yet?”

“he was here earlier this afternoon, i didn’t mean to eavesdrop but pete got him to speak again.” 

“that’s good.” i whispered. my father and icemans relationship was complicated, there was an unspoken understanding that they were in love with each other. you could see it whenever they spoke, or hugged, or even maintained eye contact. tom iceman kazansky and pete maverick mitchell were in love, even if they couldn’t be together. it was a million types of love all combined into one unstoppable force. it was the love that carole had for bradley, the love that she had for goose. it was the love that every pilot in top gun had for flying. no matter how far they were the love they had for each other couldn’t be severed. 

i thought i had that with mark, i tried so hard to get that with him. all my life i wanted someone to get that love, to have that connection with someone. with mark it was a wanting to be stepped on feeling, i let him treat me like shit because at least he’d treat me at all. i did everything i could to replicate what pete and tom had, even if it meant staying with a piece of shit. 

“speaking of pilots coming by the house.” sarah said. “one of the returning pilots came over just before you got here. said something about needing to get your uncles blessing.”

“that’s jake,” i replied, a smile forming on my lips. i wiped the tears off my eyes with the sleeves of my jacket. “i didn’t think he would seriously come.”

“that boy is a keeper, none of your boyfriends have ever tried that hard to get tom’s approval. they were in there for nearly an hour.”

“did you hear what they said?” i asked.

“i did,” she said, pulling me into a hug. “but if you want to find out you’ll have to ask him yourself.” tears were forming again. 

“i love you, i really do.”

“i know baby, i love you too.” she pulled away, and began dabbing the tears off her cheeks with a tissue from her pocket. “you give ‘em hell mallory. 

——

the hard deck was slow tonight. the regulars were there, it was in their name after all, and a couple top gun boys came in. i wasn’t sure what their names were but i planned on learning. i closed early; there weren’t many people left after 12 on weekdays, and i was tired. visiting iceman was exhausting sometimes, especially when he wasn’t doing good. 

i took the scenic route back, stopping at the parking lot of the old blockbuster where iceman taught me and bradley how to drive. it got converted into a target when i was in college, and carole sent me a string of angry texts complaining about how the america she knew was being ruined. 

i stopped at the playground where bradley and i got high for the first time. we stole a blunt from lacey shank’s older brother and fought about where we would smoke it for a week before we got tired and did it on the swingset because we were paranoid if we left it at home any longer carole would find it. 

i drove past the pop up ice cream shop where i had my first kiss. it was the middle of july and i just wanted to get it over with, bradley left me to hang out with alyssa warner on the boardwalk so i grabbed the first boy i could find and asked him if he would kiss me. he tasted like salt and fish that had been left out too long. 

and i parked at the italian restaurant where mark broke up with me for the last time. we had planned to eat out for our 4th anniversary, but he was an hour late. i sat in the claustrophobic booth waiting for him to show up, and when he finally did i had reached my limit. i wanted to scream at him and hit him and do anything to get the last however many years of my life back, but all i did was tell him we were over and drive away. 

when i returned home i expected to see bradleys truck parked in the driveway. but instead of the dirty blue truck i was used to, there was a shiny black pickup in it’s spot. and there was a tall, blonde, aviator standing on my porch. it was dark, but the dim lights on the porch illuminated his face. bugs were drawn towards the light, and his eyes were drawn towards me as i began making my way towards him. “i talked to your uncle.” he said, leaning on the post by the stairs. 

“i think you mean admiral kazansky,” i said. strolling past him and sliding my keys into the door. “i may not allow callsigns in the house but you still need to respect your superior.” the door eased open and i began to take off my shoes as i entered the foyer.

“you don’t wanna know what he had to say?” jake asked, staring at the picture of me, carole, rooster, goose, and maverick framed and hung on the wall behind me.

“i’m sure you had only nice things to say about me.” i replied, “god knows you wouldn’t be standing here if anything negative came out of your mouth at tom’s house.” grabbing his hand i led him into the house. “close the door bagman, i don’t want to let spiders in.”

“what happened to no callsigns?” he joked as he began to unlace his boots, placing them by the umbrella holder. 

“i never said no nicknames, or petnames.” i responded, making sure to whisper the last part. “do you want dinner? i was already planning on cooking for two.”

“i’d love something to eat sweetheart.” the petname was apart of his regular vocabulary, no doubt about it, but something about the way he said it sent blood rushing to your cheeks. if i wasn’t in the middle of connecting my phone to the speakers, my hand’s would have started shaking like crazy. 

“pick up a knife and start cutting,” i said, deliberately turning away from him and towards the cool fridge in an attempt to pull the redness out of my face and towards somewhere less noticeable. after spending a little too much time in the frosty safe haven, carole was probably scolding me from heaven, lecturing me about wasting energy, i emerged from my hole and handed jake a packet of chicken. “cube that.”

“will do, m’lady.”

“less talking more cutting.” seresin was charming, there was no denying that. he had managed to win over tom and sarah, which was no easy feat, and he was determined. if he wanted something, he got it. as i bent over to grab a cutting board from the cabinet under the island, “let’s hear it for the boy” began playing over the speakers. unless you were paying very close attention to him, you wouldn’t be able to catch jake very quietly humming and moving (very slightly) along to the song. “oh my god!” i exclaimed. he turned around alarmed, a look of concern splayed across his face. “you like footloose!”

“jesus christ you scared me mallory,” he said, setting the knife down to grab my arm and spin me around. “but you’re wrong.”

“i’m never wrong.” i quipped, sticking my tongue out at him. 

“but you are.” he replied, letting go of me. “i don’t like footloose, i love it.”

“god you are so corny.”

“you know it baby.” jake said as he returned to his cutting. 

that moment played in my head for the rest of the night. everytime i looked at jake i could his arms spinning me around again, everytime we made eye contact. it was all i could think about. we made casual conversation, neither of us mentioning the other night. i didn’t want to talk about the creep and i assume he didn’t wan to talk about why he showed up at my house in the middle of the night blackout drunk. and when it came time for him to leave, i packed him leftovers and planted a kiss on his cheek. “i’ll see you soon seresin.”

[jackiequick]

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

Top Gun AU✈️

——

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

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

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

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

Warning: Canon character death mentioned

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

Previous fic —> Click here

———

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

But then the kids started coming over the years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

Duck, duck, duck, duck, Goose!

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And as always, Carole Bradshaw is correct!

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

Bradley nicknamed her Jenny Penny.

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

He nicknamed her JenJen.

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

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

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

———

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

…Daffy Duck!

Other name being used for Austin Mitchell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

What kind of experiences they will have?

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

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

So many questions but only time will tell…

———

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

What was your favorite part? 💕

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

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

[ofstoriesandstardust]

when she loved me

or: Rebel asks Maverick a question about her mother he can’t answer 

like father, like daughter masterlist

warnings: this is hinted around but Natalie struggled with postpartum depression, i’ve got this whole head canon that Rebel thinks Penny doesn’t like her for the longest time, i wrote this on a whim in like half an hour so i have no idea if this is good, unedited

word count: 943

"Do you think she regretted having me?”

Your Dad hums, glancing up from the newspaper he’s holding. “What was that?” 

Your spring break had lined up with your Dad’s leave and he’d taken you out to the hangar, wanting to spend some quality time with his daughter as he called it before you graduated from UCSD in just a matter of weeks. 

“Do you think she regretted having me? Mom?”

He startles, making eye contact with you. “I don’t know.” He tells you honestly. “Where is this coming from?” 

You shrug, pulling your knees up to your chest as you curl up into the couch. “Do you regret having me?” 

“No.” He says firmly, standing up from his seat on the couch and moving over to the couch, sliding in next to you and wrapping his arm around you. 

“Yeah, but your life would’ve been a lot easier without me in it.” You say, with a half-shrug, before pulling away, laying down against the other side of the couch. 

He’s silent for a minute as your eyes stare off into the side of the hangar your Dad kept spare parts for the plane, where the pictures the ghost’s of your Dad’s past live, including the ones of your mother. 

Ones he didn’t know you had found. 

“Honey.” He says, swallowing. “I have never regretted having you. You’re my pride and joy.” 

“Yeah, but you and Penny would still be together if it wasn’t for me.” 

He scoffs at that. “Absolutely not.” 

“Penny and I never had a good relationship. Fact. You and Penny broke up and less than two years later she had Amelia and got married. Fact. She wouldn’t get married to you because I was in the picture. Fact.” 

“That’s not a fact-”

“I heard her. I heard her that night the two of you broke up that last time. About how you had a kid you needed to focus on and how she wasn’t cut out to be a step-mom. How it would never work because the two of you would always want different things.” 

He sighs and you hear him leaning against the back of the couch. “Honey, I-” 

“Why didn’t you leave? Dump me at Ice and Sarah’s and run while you had the chance? I was a kid, I would’ve barley remembered you.” 

“Carole would have killed me before I got halfway out that door.” 

You move up slightly, shooting him a look. He sighs in response. 

“Because the night your Mom gave birth, I stood there in that nursery in the hospital and looked at you and everything made sense. I was afraid of failing you, of being the worst parent. I didn’t know how to be a good parent. Kids weren’t in the mix for your Mom and I, or so we had thought, until you came along. But you did, and I’m so glad for it. Your Mom and I would’ve burned out, but here you were, tiny and perfect, and you were my responsibility. I’ve loved you from the moment you were born and I could never imagine not getting to raise you, especially not when I have gotten the privilege to watch you grow up and become the amazing person you are.” 

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling tears sting at your eyes. “Why did Mom leave?” You whisper. 

You could guess. 

You had seen those pictures. 

God, was your mother beautiful. Always a smile on her face and full of light. She always looked happy to be there, happy to be with your father. 

But seeing the ones after, the ones from when you were around and a babbling baby, she looked a lot quieter. Still beautiful, but more sad. Less full of life. In some photos, if you looked long enough, you could see the regret in her eyes. 

You knew what that regret was. 

Pictures could only tell you so much, but lucky for you, you were really good at filling in the blanks where the pictures failed. 

“I don’t know.” Your Dad mutters after a minute of silence. “I wish I had an answer for you.” 

“I want to be angry at her.” You mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself tighter. “But mostly I just feel sad. I guess it’s easier to be angry at her for leaving than being sad I never got a mother.”

“You’re allowed to be both. She should’ve been here and that’s not on you.” You shrug, not making eye-contact with him. His hands falls on your shoulder, shaking you. “Hey, do you understand me? It is not your fault she left.” 

You shrug, again, feeling the burn of a tear slip down your face. 

It’s not that you didn’t want to believe him, because you did, but you didn’t know how. For so long it had felt like your fault that she had left, that maybe your Dad’s life would’ve been better not having you at all.

“Hey.” He whispers, shaking your shoulder again. You finally tilt your head up to look at him. “I am so proud to call you my daughter. Every single damn day. I am so grateful I got to watch you grow up. There’s no where else I’d rather be.”

That’s what sends you over the edge as you sit up, your Dad’s arms reaching out for you as he brings you into his chest. 

“I wish she would’ve stayed.” You say into his chest between sobs, clutching him tighter. “Why didn’t she stay?” 

He squeezes you, tucking his chin on to the top of your head. “I don’t know honey.” He whispers. “I don’t know.”