AN: It's been forever but I need a creative outlet so I'm back! This was just a short one to get back into it- please do lmk what you think and give me some ideas!
REQUESTS
MASTERLIST
"Baby-"
Her soft little hand slipped across his skin, across the hills and valleys of his tattooed ribcage and then his hip before coming to rest on his thigh.
Her hands were warm, perfectly manicured nails, painted a pale satiny pink.
The very tips of her fingers pressed dimples into his skin and her eyes fluttered and flickered as they drifted over him as he lay there, just stirring at her touch.
He lay exposed on their bed, crumpled sheets kicked to the side and streamers of cool morning light, flecked with swirling dust, illuminated him.
He twisted and his hands naturally moved to her.
He didn't care what part they landed on, as long as they landed on her. His big roughed hands, cracked and stiff, they just wanted to touch her skin. It was soft and looked like smooth polished stone. There wasn't a sharp angle anywhere on her, as he looked at her.
She was all soft edges and curves.
A little smirk hit his lips, even though he could barely see through his blurry eyes.
He pulled himself up a little, squeezed her thigh, where his hand had ended up and whispered in a slightly groggy voice.
"Darling."
"Coffee?" She tilted her head a little and pressed a mug forward toward him.
By now she was sat up on her knees on the bed, and smiling, her hair loose and a little falling in her face.
He nodded and took it from her, looking down into the mug, it was the normal deep golden he was used to.
"Thank you." He spoke and she brushed her knuckles against his cheek affectionately, a soft smile gracing her own baby pink lips.
She leant to the nightstand and took up her own drink, swirled with honey and a creamy fawny colour. She took a deep sip from the cup and closed her eyes as he watched just in awe of his lady.
Steam from her cup veiled her face just slightly, dancing in the sun as it glossed her pretty features, swirling about up to her ears.
She was the kind of girl who liked the morning air, tied her hair with pink silk ribbon and who blushed easily.
He loved feeling the heat in her cheeks, pressing his palm against them and making her shy- though they had known eachother so long, and she was currently contentedly sat before him, baring every inch of her skin to him.
Sirius took a mouthful of his own drink, before placing it on the nightstand, and gently prying hers from her hands and replacing it too.
He then pressed forward, eyes closed, leaning into her, placing his lips against her breast and trailing up towards her collar bone. His hands found their way to her hip and behind her neck.
He breathed in as he felt her heartbeat under his lips and she smelled of vanilla and candied fruit.
It was addictive.
His hand pushed up and into her hair and he let his weight lead her to lay back.
She wrapped her arms around him, let her hands wander across his broad and muscular back.
She smiled and nuzzled into him.
He smelled like tobacco.
"You're too sweet for me." He whispered. She shook her head.
AN: Just something quick I've been working on between requests to get over writers block :)
Feedback is appreciated and honestly keeps me going so do tell me what you liked or didn't about my writing!
REQUESTS
MASTERLIST
To her, he was Pete Mitchell.
And it was hard to admit that he needed to be Maverick as well. Most of the time it felt like he'd given up Pete in favor of Maverick, and that he liked it better that way.
It hard when the person you love doesn't want to be that person.
And yet, sometimes he could just be- Pete. Pete that met (Y/n) in highschool and hit on her at her lunch table in front of her friends because he'd decided he'd fallen in love with her- all in the first day. Pete who she had broken up with before a highschool dance because he said he didn't want to go since dances were lame and he had plans to go out to some spot on the beach and drink with friends. Pete who realised his mistake and turned up in a tux and with a corsage that matched her dress, only to find her in a tshirt and shorts- because it wasn't about the dance it was about spending time with him- she put her dress on anyway and they spent the night with friends, drinking and making out in the bed of someone's truck. Pete who she watched cry his eyes out for the first time in his life because he wasn't allowed into the academy. Pete who proposed before she left for college and he went to start a different path to being a Navy pilot. Pete who she'd been engaged to for nearly six years and known for even longer and who knew her better than anyone.
Pete who she loved, and who was prepared to give her his name, his love and a home, and she hoped one day maybe even some kids.
But since Goose- it didn't seem he was either Pete or Maverick. He was nothing.
He was angry, he wouldn't eat, he drove too fast and he didn't talk anymore. He didn't listen either.
She didn't like him this way. He was resentful of himself for surviving. And that was too much to bear.
Without Nick, Maverick didn't exist anymore. And without Maverick, Pete couldn't exist either.
She'd started sleeping on the couch, and she wasn't sure he'd even noticed. She'd stopped even trying to help him because he pushed her away.
She'd always loved him, but he was making it so hard. The more she tried the harder it was, there was no ground being made.
She was dangerously close to giving up on him.
She often had awful thoughts that it was only Goose who truly knew him well enough to get him out of this, which might have been exactly why he was in it in the first place. Either way she knew she couldn't live with it anymore.
She felt guilty when she tried to help, was she pushing him to fast? Trying to make him talk when he wasn't ready? She didn't know. She didn't know how to deal with him. She couldn't leave, because the guilt would eat her alive that way too, and it felt like quitting. And she loved him more than anything.
She felt guilty that she didn't seem to know him well enough to help him.
But that wasn't necessarily true.
She was just scared that all this would culminate in something awful.
He'd turn up dead in a gutter somewhere, under an eighteen-wheeler on his bike, or drink himself out of his job. That he'd do something reckless and be killed, because it was so evident that he didn't want to live anymore. Or at least that he didn't care enough to try and stay alive. That he'd give up.
The final straw came when she realised she'd not spoken to him for three whole days. They lived in the same house. They existed in the same space and in the same rooms. She could smell drink on him they were so close but he'd barely looked at her. And she never knew what to say anymore.
She sat on the couch as he came in the door. She looked up. He just kept moving, vaguely kicking the door shut behind him.
He shut himself in the bathroom and she heard the shower be turned on- the gurgle of the pipes as the water flowed through them in the thin walls of the house.
She just sorta started to cry.
This wasn't what was supposed to happen.
She should have married him years ago.
Or left him.
She should have a good house and a dog or a kid, nice things. She should have had a man who wanted to come home to her. Someone who trusted her enough to talk to her.
And it felt selfish to feel that way- he was greiving, he'd been through a lot. But she was a woman who had scraped by getting her college degree, she wasn't a therapist or a psychiatrist. How was she supposed to know what to say or do? How was she not meant to feel upset about these things, even though they were only small by comparison to the big picture? Was she really not supposed to mourn what seemed like the loss of not just her friend Nick, but her best friend Pete. The loss of a future with him, the loss of the children she might have had, the loss of the things she had dreamed of getting as a child- because everyone else got them!
It all felt so unfair and she felt childish and selfish because she wasn't the one suffering the most here. But that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to feel at all.
By now it had been too long- she'd been feeling all that for too long and she needed to let it out. She didn't know what that would do- maybe fuck it all up, but it didn't feel like it could get worse.
It didn't feel like there was any point in holding it in. And maybe it would trigger some change. Something might get better. She didn't know.
It was a long time after she'd managed to dry her tears that Pete emerged from the bathroom. His skin was blotchy and red, from scrubbing too hard under water that was far too hot. His hair was dripping wet and he just looked distant. His mind was in some far off place, clouded with guilt and fear and anxiety and lots of other things. Mainly memories- one specific day, intermingled with snapshots of others. Things he felt too guilty to forget but would have welcomed becoming deaf, dumb and blind if it rid him of them.
"Pete." She spoke, walking into the bedroom where he was dressing. She didn't look up or say anything, just continued to towel himself and pull on some clothes.
"I love you." She stated with a small sniff and a lump in her throat- wiping away a tear from her face with the heel of her hand, just as it fell, and watching him.
Again he just said nothing. Gave no reaction at all.
She went to speak again, launch into something she didn't know if she'd regret.
But she couldn't.
She turned quickly and walked away, woth increasing panic building in her she felt she had to get out- something in her drove her forward to just put on her shoes and get out the door.
Once she'd shut it behind her she just kept walking, felt the release of adrenaline, as if she were being chased on her way to the door by some unseen force.
She didn't know where she was going, but had some very strong sense that she never wanted to go back to that house.
With it's sickening beige walls that she wasn't allowed to paint over, the furniture that was made of chipboard and cheaply veneered, that sat amongst the even cheaper furniture she'd got a hold of in thrift stores, the scent of bleach as she scrubbed between the tiles in the kitchen and bathroom trying to get the aged grout back from the brink of yellowed, the doors that stuck on their hinges and the edge of the carpet that one of them caught on everytime you opened it.
She hadn't cared about all of that, the aging accomodation they'd been provided, the little idiosyncratic elements of it. Because it was their home, together.
Their first home.
But now all that was sour and she hated it and the whole thing felt like prison where she couldn't win. If she didn't do anything she'd failed to be a good girlfriend, if she tried she was pushing him too hard, if she wasn't upset she was cold and if she was she was selfish.
She hated it. She couldn't leave, and she couldn't stay.
She just kept walking, until it was getting dark, and a little cold.
She shivered, and that seemed to set her off.
A tear dripped down her face and down her neck, hot and stinging.
She didn't care that she was on the side of some road then, not much else around aside from a gas station in the distance and some street lights a good quarter of a mile behind her.
She sat down and sobbed, wrapping herself in her own arms. It was the first time she had allowed herself to just cry unrelentingly since Goose had died.
Quickly it turned into a wail, and as the evening wind whipped around her, stinging her eyes and skin with sand, she couldn't stop and couldn't hear her own cries and the wind carried them, hoarse and broken away and into the vast distance on the horizon.
She didn't know what she was crying for. Maybe it started as having lost someone she loved dearly, having lost two men she loved dearly in fact; then having lost a life she thought she'd get to have and maybe, eventually, because she felt a fool and just wanted to be at home.
Though she didn't know if she was sure where that was.
She went on like that, a bundle of pins and needles with a streaky red face and bloodshot eyes, trembling hands and who kept removing and replacing the old cheap pawn shop ring that she'd never let Pete replace with something nicer, though he'd begged her to.
In the end, in the pitch black now, she could just stand, and wander, cold, toward the gas station.
She found some change and enough dollars in her pocket to use the payphone outside to call herself a cab and pay the fare. She ended up back outside that damned house.
She knew he was still there. His bike was outside.
Something in her felt like smashing it to bits but she wasn't a total psycho.
She walked on past it, up the tiny path paved with concrete slabs, and pushed open the door. It'd hit the latch as she left and was just sat on it instead of clicking shut. Pete clearly hadn't noticed. Or if he had he hadn't cared.
She felt sick as she walked back in.
Properly, violently sick.
She didn't know why.
She just-
She was pent with anxiety and didn't know what she'd find.
But it was nothing she couldn't have expected.
There he was, laid on the bed. His eyes sort of flickered as she walked in but didn't swivel to her.
He had one knee propped up, an arm across his stomach and the other laid out on the bed like he was in some grim rehearsal for death.
His stare was glassy and his breathing deliberately slowed. He couldn't stop the draught making his skin come up in goosebumps or his slightly parted lips cracking as he breathed in and out and dried them.
He couldn't stop those signs of life but she imagined that he did want to.
She stood there for a moment.
Then she sat on the edge of the bed beside him.
She looked over his wet eyelashes, his unmoving face. She felt that awful feeling in her chest, like someone with very large hands had reached through her and was squeezing her lungs in each of them, and twisting and tightening their fists so she almost couldn't breathe and every time she though she might just die they'd let go again, and then repeat the whole cruel exercise.
It was always like that when she thought she might cry, and she often wished that whatever unseen person with very large hands that did this to her would just go away and leave her alone- not make her cry at all the wrong moments.
(Y/n) picked up Pete's hand, the one laid out on the bed, slowly. She sunk her fingers into the softness of the quilt that it was layed on and dug gently underneath it, coiling them around his and pulling it up to her lips, and leaning downward, so that she was nearly on her stomach, to meet them.
His hand was warm in hers, against her lips they weren't soft but she loved them. She kissed them. She had nothing to say, but she felt something and this was the most natural way of things to express it.
She closed her eyes for a second, and brought her other hand to hold his, and held it there. It seemed so unnatural that his hands should be as warm as they were, considering his demeanor.
She took in deep breaths and opened her mouth, finally finding some breathy, thoughtless words to tell him.
"If it happens in the air- like Goose- like Nick. I'll deal with it." She seemed to whisper, holding his hand to her cheek. He twitched. "I'll be halfway dead Pete, but I'll deal with it. But if you do to me what Carole has had done to her, I will hate you forever. And I should hate you if you do that to me. But I think I love you too much to ever hate you like I'd want to." She paused and shuffled closer to him, so as he couldn't avoid her eyeline.
"What you do is dangerous. When you're home you're meant to be safe- but right now you're working real hard to make being on the ground more risky than being in the air. I don't know if that's just to justify being up there without him, or because you actually have a death wish- but Pete! Just... What ever guilt you feel, doesn't mean you deserve to die. It doesn't mean I should be left without you. Don't punish me for loving you, because eventually I'll not be able to take it anymore, and then either way I'll still be without you." She felt a calmness in her voice that she wasn't sure where it'd come from. She stayed holding his hand, but let their hands sit in her lap.
"You've gotta greive, but not like this. This will kill you- or someone else. It's this close to tearing me apart." Her voice then wavered, just momentarily, and finally at that his eyes moved to her. Their eyes met and were matched in their stinging, bloodshot appearance.
"You gotta understand, I love you- to be this angry I've gotta love you more than anything else in the world- and I am, and I do." She leant forward a moment.
"The thought of loosing you breaks me, but it's a hundred times worse if it's for no good reason." She breathed the last words and as she did, a lump caught in her throat and finally tears fell again.
It was then that Pete pulled her silently into his arms.
It wasn't always clear which side of him won. Pete Mitchell or Maverick. But both of them would forever belong to her.
Hi again, sorry for another request but I was reading what you would write and I thought of either hangman or rooster with sister reader (could have an age gap but it’s up to you) and she wanted to be a fighter pilot like her older brother when she grew up. They could be talking to the others and he tells them she died (it’s up to you, ignore this is your uncomfortable :)
Sister!Reader Who Wants To Be A Pilot Like Her Older Brother (Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw & Jake 'Hangman' Seresin)
TW: Angst! Super Angsty! Mentions death of a sibling, death of a parent, dangerous situations, hospital environments and sudden/unexpected deaths and greif
AN: I tried out this as a new format, not sure how it went but quite liked it- I'd love some feedback on how you found it and if you enjoyed it?
REQUESTS
MASTERLIST
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Jake 'Hangman' Seresin
- Jake is pretty open about his family
- And I mean OPEN
- If he tried to say that the guys haven't heard every story about how annoying it was growing up as the second eldest of four sons, he'd be lying
- Usually it was when everyone was swapping stories in the bar
- Lighthearted memories of being told he was gonna be a big brother again
- Screaming and crying about it
- Water fights in summer
- Him and his older brother chasing the others round with the hosepipe and a super soaker
- Launching baseballs at eachother's heads
- How he once threw one at his youngest brother
- How he'd dodged it
- How it'd gone through the kitchen window
- How angry his Mom had been when it landed in the sink whilst she did the dishes
- About how much his brothers sulked when he joined the Navy
- How his parents sent updates on all his siblings when he was away
- Pictures of them going to senior prom
- When his youngest brother made capitain of the school basketball team
- A picture of the second youngest brother in hospital with a broken arm
- Because he'd driven Jake's car (which he'd given to him with strict instructions not to damage it) into a ditch
- How his eldest brother was a real estate agent but how none of them would let him forget that he watched Practical Magic on VHS over and over in 2000 and told everyone he wanted to be a witch when he grew up
- It was clear that they were very typical
- Very happy
- But if you got him drunk enough
- And it were the right time of year
- He'd slip up
- 'Oh yeah- all five of us!'
- 'Joey, me, Ronnie, Cole and- and... That's us!'
- No one payed much attention to it
- He was being drunk
- Miscounting
- Forgetting
- Slurring his words a little
- Until finally
- One night
- Someone asked
- 'So- got other family in the military?'
- And he went awful quiet
- Sat back in his chair
- And all the words came tumbling out of his mouth
- 'Well- I did.'
- 'My baby sister.'
- 'I don't talk about her but, she was born when I was about seven, she was my favourite- well I was her favourite. She never left me alone.'
- 'She was real smart, a real sweetie and her favourite thing in the whole world was our grandma's cherry pie.'
- He'd laughed
- He was in his own nostalgic world now
- The others just wondered how she'd never come up before
- But they listened patiently
- No one dared interrupt, in case he stopped
- '(Y/n) should have gone to an Ivy league school- but no.'
- 'She told me she wanted to be a pilot, just like I was.'
- 'She told me she looked up to me, and she really did wanna do it.'
- 'God knows why- why she looked up at me, not Joey the valedictorian or Cole the sports star or even Ronnie! I know Mom busted him selling weed to his friends from the treehouse in our yard- but- damn! He at least made pretty good money doing that!'
- 'But I sat down, and I helped her fill everything out and we dropped it off at the mailbox at the end of the street. And she got in.'
- 'I never saw her more excited than that. And she was pretty well pumped up when she was voted prom queen.'
- It was then that Jake went quite again for a few minutes.
- 'She was real good.'
- 'She was real good at everything she did.'
- 'Hell- I hate to say it but she was probably better than me, certainly better than I was straight out of the academy.'
- 'Umm- She was unlucky though.'
- 'Just, about a week before she should have been done with all her training- I don't know. Something went wrong.'
- The look on his face was of some kind of latent sadness.
- He wasn't a vulnerable man.
- To see him this way, hear him talk honestly- without showboating, properly with guard down
- That was a rare and privileged experience
- And everyone sat around the table knew it
- 'Within 24 hours the whole family were there. and she was awake- talking- fine and perky as ever.'
- 'She just kept saying how she was bored in hospital, she was so worried she wasn't gonna be able to complete training.'
- 'I didn't really know what was going on, none of us kids knew how serious it was. We thought cos she was talking, awake and everything she was gonna be fine. No one told us what was goin on.'
- That last sentence was said with real anger and followed by the sound of his fist banging on the table.
- 'We just laughed at her and tried to be like normal. We thought she was gonna be fine.'
- 'But I remember Mom telling her that she'd had surgery to take fragments of her skull out of her brain.'
- 'I think maybe I knew then that it wasn't gonna be fine.'
- 'It wasn't gonna be fine like they said.'
- 'I didn't know she was gonna have a bleed on the brain and die in the OR as they tried to stop it though.'
- 'I didn't think it was gonna be that bad.'
- 'She probably knew nothing about it either."
- His heart sank.
- Speaking those words, in such a blunt way. That was the only way he could say them.
- It got it over with quickly
- He ground his teeth as he sat there
- Like he'd finally spilled a secret
- He almost wished they hadn't let him go on
- But he'd said it now
- And felt weird about it
- 'I'd headed back to work. When it happened.'
- 'I only got a few days leave- and since she seemed... Alright- I left.'
- 'I was the only one not in the room.'
- 'I was the one who put her there though.'
- 'Never should have let her do it.'
- 'I guess stupidity is in the genes though. She shouldn't have looked up to me- of all folk.'
- 'I miss her.'
- '(Y/n) was my baby sister, my responsibility.'
- 'And she would have beat all you suckers in a dogfight any day of the week!"
- He laughed.
- He was the only one who did.
- After that, there was some scrap of thought spared for Hangman, some mild sympathy.
- That callsign suddenly seemed slightly morbid
- Considering his need to take the blame.
- Maybe even some respect for having told the story too
- But (Y/n) came up in stories after that
- Like the missing link she filled the gaps
- How she got her brothers back by filling a super soaker with koolaid that stained them all blue for days
- How it had been her baby bottles their Mom had been cleaning in the sink
- How she'd sobbed and sobbed on the morning he left
- How he and his brothers had managed to make some calls around their small town to their old classmates, to ensure that their classmates younger siblings voted (Y/n) prom queen
- How she and Cole had had fallen out in highschool so badly that she had quit the cheer squad because they were refusing to talk and seeing eachother at every game whilst he was capitain annoyed her
- How Ronnie had put the car in a ditch going to pick (Y/n) up from a house party she wasn't supposed to be at
- How bitterly Joey had complained when their Dad made him remove his VHS copy of Practical Magic from the player and replace it with a Sesame Street tape for (Y/n)
- And how they'd all been so relieved when they had a sister, not another brother.
- She was all of their favorites.
- Even with her flaws.
- She was cocky and arrogant
- Argumentative
- Witty
- Sharp
- She was great
- She was all too much like her brothers
- And that's why they liked her.
- All of the guys,
- Rooster, Bob, Phoenix, Coyote and the rest,
- Decided that they were glad he'd told them about her
- He was happy when he talked about his family
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Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw
- Bradley constantly talked about his family.
- Mom, Dad, Sister
- She was born just before her Dad had died
- They were close siblings
- Very close
- He lived and breathed for them
- His family
- He talked about how the receptionist in the foyer wore the same hairspray that his Mom had
- How he could tell by the smell of it
- It reminded him of sitting on her lap when she did her hair and make up in the morning.
- He talked about how he bought a Ford Bronco because his Dad had one
- How he had taken a picture of his Dad's to the dealership and the salesman had helped him figure out which colour matched the best
- It reminded him of being a kid, before it broke down and was scrapped
- He talked about his sister
- How great she was
- It didn't remind him of anything
- He spoke about her often
- And as if she were still alive
- No one ever guessed that wasn't the truth
- Even those who had known him before her death
- Who had even met her in passing
- Once or twice worked with her
- News like that usually travelled fast
- But it had been a bit hush hush because it had to be investigated by a panel of experts to see who's wrong doing it had been
- It had been a year
- Just over
- The report had been issued a few months before
- He could speak about it quite freely now
- But he couldn't find it in himself to do so
- So he just talked like she was still around
- To the extent that he made up a deployment overseas for her to be on
- It wasn't until Maverick overheard him talking about her one evening
- And just looked at him
- 'Bradley?'
- He'd spoken with total empathy and near enough pity
- He didn't know this was what Bradley had been doing
- It was then that his face fell
- He knew he had to give the game away
- Quietly he spoke
- Almost forgetting the friends he was surrounded by
- 'Mav, I don't know how else to deal with it-'
- His godfather just look at him.
- 'All my life I've had to deal with talking about my family, in the past tense.'
- He paused, glance for almost a full beat at Maverick, then spoke as it transpired that Pete couldn't hold the eye contact.
- 'She didn't.'
- The silence in the room was tangible.
- Mav sat down beside his godson
- He knew every detail
- He'd made sure he'd known every detail
- He and Ice had pawed for days over every report before they were even released
- It was yet another illegal favour Tom gifted Pete.
- He relived her father's death through hers, and Bradley was experiencing it first hand for the first time
- Both felt intense guilt
- Another Bradshaw plunged into the freezing cold water
- Another one pulled out with no life left in em
- Another Bradshaw dead
- Fullstop
- She was gone
- Just like that
- 'They said she was coming into land on a carrier, went wrong.'
- 'It was probably instant.'
- 'I don't know if they just told me that to make me feel better or if it's true.'
- 'I hope it's true.'
- 'They said it was probably her mistake, and she almost definitely knew it was her own mistake, because she didn't eject.'
- 'She was fighting it all the way down.'
- 'It was a stupid thing to do.'
- 'Her WSO broke their back, probably won't walk again- but they'll live.'
- 'And they'll live a good, proper life.'
- 'She was just- Stubborn.'
- 'I don't know.'
- He finally felt like he was done talking.
- No-one quite knew what to say.
- A couple hearts were particularly heavy,
- Those that'd worked with her enough to know she was a good woman.
- But mostly the outpouring was for him.
- The fact that he'd never spoken about it.
- His relationship with Maverick was still healing, and yet was the only vent for the matter.
- That, they all knew, couldn't have been easy.
- 'She was a good pilot.'
- Mav spoke to fill in the silence.
- 'Really good.'
- 'Quick, technical.'
- 'And she loved it. Probably more than most people.'
- 'She just loved the flying- would have suited air shows, acrobatic stuff- more than the Navy.'
- Bradley gave a laugh and nodded.
- 'She was too clever and a show off.'
- 'She always liked the stories stupid stuff you and Dad used to get up to.'
- 'She wanted that.'
- Mav looked up at his Godson, a bittersweet sense of pride that his Goddaughter had thought his and her Father's relationship was something good enough to aspire to.
- A very different attitude from her brother.
- They had kept in contact.
- Not as much as she would have liked to
- And more than her brother thought Mav deserved
- But he wouldn't stop her
- And she kept enough distance as not to upset her brother
- And after they did make things up again
- They didn't get the chance before the crash to be together as a family again
- After all that Bradley and Pete had been through on that mission
- All the times they could have been killed out there in a far off land
- The multitudes of opportunities for them to be the ones to ruin the chance at playing at happy families
- To ruin the chance of coming home to their girl
- And she crashes and dies
- In what should have been a survivable accident
- on a routine exercise just miles off of the coast of her home
- 'She always thought she'd get to have that kind of fun, those kinds of friends for life.'
- 'I was the serious one.'
- Bradley smiled.
- 'I just-'
- The smile quickly faded.
- He wasn't ready to think back fondly yet.
- 'I don't understand why she didn't eject.'
- He spoke quietly.
- 'I don't know why she'd keep trying to save the thing'
- Mav sat there looking at his boy.
- A large, handsome man
- Who had come to regard as a son
- And who now reminded him of a boy again
- As he sat there
- Nursing a bottle of beer
- He'd seen reports that Bradley hadn't
- He knew that the WSO involved had given statements that said she'd told them to eject
- They'd expected her to follow
- But she didn't
- That the examination of the wreckage showed no signs of her even attempting to
- It couldn't even be put down to a failed ejection
- It was just...
- A fatal miscalculation?
- A misdiagnosis that she thought she could solve?
- But she knew it was dangerous.
- She knew it and told her WSO to eject
- The words he'd told his RIO all those years ago
- He'd seen her records
- He knew she had a history of hesitancy when it came to mock ejection tests
- She'd failed some of those tests three times over before she finally got the nerve
- He didn't want to tell Bradley that
- And he knew Bradley didn't want to dig that deep into the official verdict
- Bradley just knew it was 'pilot error'
- He didn't need to know more
- He didn't want Bradley to think that his baby sisters last thoughts were probably abject terror
- Images of her Father's fate
- Too scared too eject
- Maybe even too proud to admit she'd made a mistake that was going to be terminal for her jet
- Maybe she really did think she could save it
- And maybe Pete felt guilty more than ever before
- That all those years ago
- A Bradshaw ejecting from a stricken jet and dying, had killed another by making her too fearful of doing the same.
- And if Goose was his fault
- By extension so was she
- But there had to be some comfort to be had
- Maybe that she was with her Mother and Father
- Up there
- Forever in the sky she loved
- Neither of the two men were religious
- But to think they were all three together
- And one day they'd meet them all again
- That was a comfort
- And there was always a prayer, to whatever God that might hear them, that history never repeat itself again
- And there was always a thought spared for her and her parents
- And Bradley would eventually feel freed to speak about her
- And Pete would eventually feel freed to speak about Goose
- Even though it would take many years before either of them could speak with pride again about Goose or (Y/n)
- And somehow there was healing to be had and to be had together
a list of rooster masterlists that i have been reading and obsessing over
this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.
RECALL | Pt.3 (Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw X Reader)
Word Count: 6166
TW: Alcohol consumption, very slightly suggestive content near the end
A/N: I hope you enjoy the third part! I have at least two more parts in progress which should round it out nicely and I'm excited to post! (Also this is a repost cos I forgot to add tags earlier, oops)
Feedback is always a needed and welcome thing!
REQUESTS
MASTERLIST (PART ONE) (PART TWO)
Sugar awoke to that familiar early morning sound of jets taking off outside and low sun coming through the slats of her blinds.
She groaned, breathed in deeply and stretched out her back as she sat up. She heard it crack and click, symptoms of sleeping at a cheap plyboard desk instead of on the comfy, if over priced, memory foam mattress that she'd let a salesman in the 'Mattress King Emporium' convince her to buy about six months back.
So far it hadn't been worth the money- she'd not slept on it all that much.
She was a workaholic- like most people on the base were really.
Last night she'd not meant to have fallen asleep in her office- she'd planned to go home and sit in front of her TV and drink a couple beers, watching reruns of NCIS, before heading to her nice, soft, warm and definitely cost more than it should have, bed.
She stood and grabbed her car keys, locking her office door behind her. She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to massage the stiffness out of it and walked along the corridors; lacking the usual authoritative stride. She was accompanied by the distinct sound of her keys jangling as they hung from her fingers which knotted around the keychains.
It'd been a few days since the whole fight between Bradshaw and Seresin, and she'd been run off of her feet with work.
She'd been writing reports and going over old ones, data sheets and mission documents. She'd been writing emails back and forth to the Admiral, who seemed to never sleep and replied to them with remarkable speed. She just worked and didn't bother to look at the clock.
It was still early, she had clothes in her trunk, she could still salvage the day without going home to shower and change.
She came through a heavy fire door at the bottom of a stairwell that took her straight out and into the fairly bare parking lot.
As she pulled her hand from the bar of the door and let it shut with some force behind her, Bradley looked up as he heard the thud.
He was stood with the drivers door of his old Bronco on the further side from her. The driverside door was open as he rooted around his bag looking for something, so he could spot the door (Y/n) had emerged from through the windows of his vehicle.
He didn't mean to watch as she walked across to her own car, but she seemed so different compared to what she usually put across. She leant on the side of her car, rubbed her temples and frowned as she sorted through her keys in her hand until she reached the right one, and twisted it in the lock on her trunk.
She grabbed a duffle bag and slung it over her shoulder, sighed, holding the trunklid open with one arm, before shutting it, locking it and turning tail.
He didn't think much of it, and yet couldn't wrench his eyes off of the woman for more than a few moments before they drifted back to her as she walked. He felt his gaze was somewhat pervase, so shook his head as she neared the front door and zipped up his own bag, having not found what he wanted. He moved on to searching through the glove box instead.
(Y/n) headed to the locker room. She didn't usually do this, but today she needed to.
She undressed, leaving her clothes on the bench, and stepped into a shower cubicle.
She was pretty confident no one would catch her- it was early enough that the pilots would almost certainly not be here for a little while. Long enough to shower. She hadn't seen any of them in the parking lot either- though it wasn't like she wasn't like she was looking. Her head had been swimming with work related things and ached from having slept on a pillow of paperwork.
The warm water was welcome as it dripped down her nose and fingers and down her legs. It soothed all her aches and she felt, for a second, that she could breathe.
She didn't let on very often how properly stressful it was to do her job. There was a tremendous sense of responsibility, and she was glad she could count on one hand the amount of times she'd had to lock her office door, close the blinds and sob as she filled in end of service and notice of death paperwork for someone much younger than herself- but there was always that looming threat that it was going to happen again- under her watch.
Over the years she'd come to know everything about this programme, the jets, the people. She was a pin to a gear in this machine, and a vital one. She was in charge of so much, and this whole RECALL thing had flipped what she usually delt with on it's head. Where she usually could predict, she was blind- what she knew had changed quicker than anyone could adapt.
The report templates she filed and time frame was foreign to her and to compound the stress, changes that usually she'd be able to work through, and be supported through by Admiral Kazansky were a hundred times harder now that he was ill- there was only so much he could do and (Y/n) was inheriting lots of the workload.
She was good- Simpson was good- but there were things that Kazansky did that were the extra mile, more personal and in-depth with the program that she helped to conduct in tandem with the legendary Iceman- in line with his own workaholic tendencies and the fact that TOP GUN was like his baby, he devoted himself to the details and extras that meant he knew everything and he could constantly improve TOP GUN- that was what she was suddenly doing on her own.
She loved her job- she really did. But sometimes she almost wished she had a husband, a couple kids, a stupid great lollopy mutt of a dog to greet her at the garden gate. Something to tie her down- cos right now she was full of tension and stress and anxiety. Plenty of things she didn't like to show outwardly. Things she was hired to help alleviate in everyone else around her.
She massaged shampoo into her hair and let the suds run down her.
She'd now officially not been home for over 24hrs, which didn't seem so long- but she only lived a 20 minute ride away.
Soon though she was done, and had to wrench herself away from the soothing running water, stepped into the cool and steamed up air of the rest of the locker room and wrapped herself in a towel.
She sat on the bench, towelling her hair so it wasn't so dripping wet, and then moved on to attempting to fix her face.
She held up her blush compact, which had a mirror in the lid, and began to put on some minimal makeup- a little eyeliner, and mascara, concealer, bronzer and blush, blend with her fingers and try and feel put together was the plan.
As she did, she heard the latch of the door. She turned her head to see Lieutenant Bradshaw.
(Y/n) smiled a polite smile, which was returned, before she returned to the task at hand- with a quite 'good morning Rooster' as she did.
"Mornin'" He replied, his smile fading inexplicably slower than hers- though she couldn't see it. She'd never called him that before- not just in passing. Once or twice in reference to him, or in a more professional capacity- but not just because she could. Usually it was 'Lieutenant', 'Bradshaw', and the last time they'd really spoken he'd nearly fallen over when she'd actually spoken his name- one that very few people were left to call him by.
He got called Rooster everyday, but not by her. And maybe just because he'd never heard it from her, it was now special.
He went to his locker, just a few feet from her, as she faced away from the door, and him.
Slowly he sorted through his things, he was here earlier than the others- truthfully- because he couldn't sleep. He'd got enough sleep, but not as much as he'd have liked and when he woke up early this morning he'd decided just to go in to work and get a head start. He planned to look over some notes, study the territory again.
He hadn't expected to find (Y/n) here.
Well, maybe in the building- but not here.
He shoved his bag in his locker and stood there, leafing through his notebook and sorting out some loose pages.
There was something quite domestic about it as they coexisted in the same space alone. For the both of them it was as close as they were going to get to domestic bliss any time soon.
It was a little odd, but slightly comforting- certainly not awkward.
As Rooster took out a last couple of things, before presumably heading to leave, (Y/n) was sure she saw, from the corner of her eye, as he turned to her- and paused as if he was going to say something.
He didn't, he just turned and left.
The day wasn't going to get anymore normal.
(Y/n) returned to her office, feeling a little more of herself, fresh and as ready for the day as she could be.
She sat, wading through paperwork for a couple of hours, often distracted for a few seconds, but no more than that, by the jets as they took off and landed. She did note, from the sound as she worked, that none of them were the F-18's that the RECALL team were using.
She was going to investigate it, but she had so many reports to write up- she'd decided not to.
A knock on the door disturbed her.
"Come in." She spoke, not realising she was half mumbling as she did- focused on making sure she was copying data points correctly.
She didn't look up until the person was stood in the centre of the room, she just quickly scribbled down the last few numbers first.
She was surprised to see it was Capitain Mitchell stood neatly in front of her, hands behind his back.
She didn't know where everyone had recently got the idea to be quite so formal at all times with her, she was certainly respected, but not usually treated with this level of firm seriousness. Maybe it was that all of this team were older than the usual TOP GUN students or the workload, but usually she did manage to engrain herself better than this.
"Captain?" She asked, putting her pen down and standing.
"Sugar-" He seemed to hesitate as he spoke her callsign.
She laughed.
"I know, it's a weird one to get used to. I'll answer to just about anything- like an old dog." She smiled, breathing out, though still tense.
"Right-" Maverick nodded, a smile tipping at his mouth.
"How can I help you?" (Y/n) asked.
"Well- you deal with all our HR? Don't you?" He asked.
"I am your HR department on legs." She chuckled and nodded.
"Right- then team bonding is kinda your thing?" He asked, relaxing a little.
"Oh- I'm all over it." She grinned, then paused a moment. "Don't tell me- you're cooking something up?" She tilted her head.
"Yeah, something like that. Dogfight football, on the beach." Maverick nodded. "And we were hoping you'd join us?" He smiled.
"We?" (Y/n) scrunched her nose a little and cocked an eyebrow. Mav turned and opened the door, then looked to the young woman.
"Do you mind?" He asked, now with a grin, motioning to the door.
She nodded, with her own smile and rolling her eyes- but moving outside of the office anyway.
Mav followed and lead her to the window at the end of corridor.
He opened the latch and slid it open, looking out to the parking lot.
He leant out, and gave a thumbs up- with a tremendous grin on his face.
This was greeted with a cheer.
He stepped back and (Y/n) just looked at him. He nodded his head to the window, so she looked out; to see the entire team stood in the parking lot.
When they saw her, a series of whistles, whoops, shouts and applause- which she returned with a wave and a laugh.
She scanned the group- it was Hangman, Coyote and Payback who lead the whistles, Bob waved back and smiled, Pheonix whistled and shouted the loudest of anyone, Fanboy pumped his fist in the air like he was in some kind of victory dance, and Rooster, he applauded and cheered- but for some reason her eye was drawn to him for just a second. Just a moment, and he seemed to stop.
(Y/n) shook her head with a laugh and looked back to Maverick- who shrugged.
"They're pretty keen on you." He told her.
"I was told you'd be trouble-" (Y/n) couldn't help but laugh. "So- the beach?"
Within five minutes she'd abandoned her paperwork to supervise the exercise- and had her gym stuff out of her trunk.
On the beach, she had changed into something more appropriate for the situation, and tied her hair completely out of her face.
She stood there, her sunglasses on her face, along with a smile. It wasn't wasted time being here- the more she knew about the team the better. Or that's how she was justifying it anyway.
She watched on the sand, quite enjoying looking at something that wasn't a piece of paper covered in words and numbers.
She cheered on the teams, and was happy to remain doing just that, wiggling her fingers into the warm sand and soaking up the sun- the fresh smell of the sea filling her nose.
Or she was until Hangman walked up to her, in a short break between games.
She squinted up at him as he stopped in front of her, a sly smirk on his face, he paused, then moved so that his shadow shaded her face and she could see properly.
"Hey Sugar-" He smiled, hands on his hips. "You gonna play the game?"
"I'm not nearly as fit as all you- I think I'm better suited to spectating, or I'll be trampled." She laughed as she moved her sunglassed to sit on her head.
"Aww- come on now; what if we went easy on you Sugar?" He cocked an eyebrow and held out a hand.
"I'd love to say yes- but-" She smiled but shook her head.
"Hey, you're our HR department, aren't you? You and the Captain want us to bond? Fine, but we all gotta bond, and you're part of the team." He spoke, with utter confidence. She just shot him a look of 'yeah- sure.' "What if I said it would affect my mental health, to see you, sat here, not joinin' us? As HR, you wouldn't like that, would ya?" He smirked. (Y/n) had found, despite his sarcasm and comments, he was the playful one of the group- just not in the traditional sense. He was competitive, reckless, bold and could make anything a game. Reminded her of someone else with a similar reputation.
"Well then I suppose I couldn't say no, could I? Just one game." (Y/n) laughed, and took his hand.
"Alright." He nodded, and pulled her to her feet, but didn't let go of her hand. "You do think you're part of the team, don't ya?"
"If it all goes wrong, then it'd be my fault- so yeah I'd like to think so." She smiled, a little confused.
In a split second, Seresin pulled the young woman in and into a firemans lift, with a good laugh on his lips.
(Y/n) let out a quick squeak but couldn't help but laugh- not having expected it.
"Good think nothing will go wrong." Seresin nodded and turned, walking back to the group with, effectively, one of their bosses slung over his shoulder like it was nothing.
"Is this how you treat all women, Hangman?" She laughed, giving in to it.
"No- of course not." He laughed, like it was obvious. "Just the ones on the team who try and get out of playin'."
"Bagman! Put the woman down!" Phonix called out. "Are you insane!?"
(Y/n) could only laugh.
Jake planted her down in the sand, and the moment she was out of Hangman's hands- Phoenix punched him (not very hard) in the arm.
Quite quickly (y/n) realised she'd ended up put down directly in front of Bradshaw.
She turned and found that they were just inches from eachother.
She managed to fumble an awkward hello, before Hangman called her and she turned on her heels, catching the ball that he'd thrown to her.
It really wasn't long before she was in the competitive spirit, and even Maverick had joined in. She wasn't a tall person, so most of these guys, who were considerably taller than her even when she had heels on, towered over her.
Even so, she was quite sprightly; despite this competitive disadvantage and never really ever having been much of a sportswoman.
She enjoyed herself, had a smile plastered over her face the entire time and one game turned very quickly into many more than that.
It was nice, seeing the team get along, work together- it was like overnight they'd become her absolute dream.
She looked over at Maverick, and wondered how she could have doubted him. Well- she'd not really, but she had been worried- and those are two different things. She knew he could do it- she trusted her boss, Admiral Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky had never, in her experience, been wrong; about anything. And he hadn't been about this. It was just- the ease at which it could be done that she had worried about, what the consequences might be.
But whatever Maverick had done, or said, it'd worked, and she suddenly had much more faith in how the whole thing might run smooth. Or smooth enough.
She stepped off of the pitch for a moment to catch her breath, and just watched, pulling her hair back from her face again.
She couldn't help but be particularly pleased in how her pet project seemed to actually be becoming human. It was something she was thinking as he walked over to her- how he seemed a great guy. How his smile was great, and how attractive he was when he wasn't so miserable and formal. God, that felt so unprofessional to admit to herself, but she was only human.
She was so lost in that thought that she didn't process that he had his eyes fixed on her, and was actually coming toward her.
"Hey-" He spoke, a small smile on his lips.
"Rooster." She nodded a greeting, a matching smile on hers. "Are you gonna be shirtless everytime we talk? Is that a thing now?" She teased and he laughed. "This is what you're actually like then?" She smiled as he stood beside her. This was her chance, to actually just talk to him for a second- not lecture him, not be so professional and formal and disciplinary. She'd be lying if she said she'd not been looking for the chance.
"What? This?" He laughed. "Nothing like me at all." He spoke sarcastically, an eager twitch at the corners of his mouth.
"You think?" She looked up at him, sweat on his brow, low sunlight hitting him perfectly. He was a picture. "Well..." She spoke as she stepped forward and back into the game, turning and walking backward away from him. "Feel free to show me more, Rooster." She grinned, even convinced herself to manage a sly and slightly over cocky wink, before turning and getting stuck right back in.
In that moment, he really didn't know if she meant that- or if it was just another way to make him open up; in other words, was it said because she could or because it was her job? He didn't know if it mattered. Undeniably now, the fuzz in his stomach entirely stemmed from the words she said and how well she said them.
For a moment, it seemed they were both eachother's challenge.
When she spotted Simpson talking to the Captain a while later, she jogged over, the smile on her face she couldn't wipe off.
"Sir-" she tried to retain some kind of professionalism in the eyes of her boss.
"Miss (L/n)" Simpson nodded, a slightly stern scowl on his face. "This is going well, then?" He spoke, unsure of what he was looking at.
"Yeah, you could say that." She nodded, watching the game rage on ahead.
"Is, this- going to help with our mission? Sugar?" He asked, he tensed his jaw with hands on hips. It was clear he wasn't convinced by these methods.
"I think so, Sir." (Y/n) nodded, very confident. "I think we might just about be finding our feet here." She had her doubts, and fears, she was certainly keen to have it all over with- but she had more belief in these men and women every time she spoke to them, sat in on their breifings and listened to them. "I think RECALL might actually work, Sir."
"I trust your judgement, Sugar." Simpson turned to her.
"Thank you, Sir." She smiled and gave a nod as he departed.
As she stood in the sand, glistening with sweat, as everyone else was, she had a thought. Heatstroke was never going to do anyone any good. Thankfully, she had a solution in mind.
She turned and headed up the deck of the bar, a sweet smile on her face and greeted Penny. She'd met her many times before, frequenting the Hard Deck on many occasions before and after the elder woman had purchased it.
Her absence wasn't noted until she walked back up the beach, balanced elegantly on her hand, a drinks tray, filled with ice cold bottles of beer.
Even then, a sharp whistle was required to draw attention, as she watched as the team finished rallying around Bob, who had presumably just scored. Rooster slapped him heartily on the back and he put him down off of his shoulders, as did the others.
"Refreshments folks?" She grinned as their heads turned.
"I didn't think HR would condone drinking on the job?" Coyote raised an eyebrow.
"Well- if one of you would like to tell me the time?" (Y/n) asked with a tilt of her head.
It was Fanboy who took up her request, looking at his watch.
"18.01?" He spoke.
"Exactly, so technically the working day has ended, and I have no moral or professional dilemma in this round being on me." She grinned and nodded.
Happily they all took a bottle, thanked her and were glad to have something cold to drink in the evening heat.
She hugged the tray to her chest, a satisfied smile on her face as she watched the group gather in chatter.
"You know, I don't think it's very fair..." (Y/n) heard and startled, turning quickly to the source.
"Rooster!" She laughed and shook her head, looking up at him. "What is?" She questioned, looking him over.
She was almost blushing as she stood there, a bead of sweat rolled down his temple, his classic aviators perched on his nose, though they'd slipped down enough that he could see over them.
He was unforgivingly good looking and now (Y/n) could really take it in.
"That you know every intimate detail about me and my life- and I don't know barely anything about you?" He spoke, calmly, and (Y/n) suddenly felt the dynamic shift into something more equal.
He glanced up to the bar, where the rest of the team were heading inside.
"Come in? I'll get you a drink?" He spoke, not moving his eyes back to her- fearing she'd simply say no, and hoping that, in that eventuality, averting his gaze would preserve some of his dignity and not pull threads in his self esteem.
"Alright." She smiled and in a snap Bradley couldn't help but look at her. He was almost suprised at the answer.
So they walked into the Hard Deck, Bradley slipping a t-shirt over his head and pulling it down over him, as some of the others had also done. The team were spread around the room, a few at the pool table, Maverick keeping a parental eye on them all, scanning the place from behind the bar, where he was helping Penny.
The pair sat at the bar, nearer one end, far enough away from the others that it was quiet enough for a conversation.
"I really don't know everything-" (Y/n) shook her head as she sat beside the pilot.
"Well I only know what I can- assume." Bradshaw said slowly but quite purposefully.
"And- what can you assume?" (Y/n)'s interest was piqued.
"Well... You've gotta be pretty smart-" He began.
"Thank you-" She muffled a small chuckle and nodded.
"And you know how to talk to people, you, uh, certainly told me-" Bradley nodded, raising his eyebrows and leaning back on his bar stool. "I think you probably said all the right things."
"That's my job- saying the right things." (Y/n) softened, her smile twitching a little. "Go on, what else?"
"Yeah, well- You're not married, or engaged? No rings." His eyes drifted to her hand, where indeed there was nothing aside from a plain and practical watch.
"Nope. Who's got the time these days?" She nodded and confirmed his suspicions and hopes.
"The only other thing I know for sure then-" Bradley paused for a second and leant in, whispering as he spoke next. "is what shade of lipstick you wear." He pulled back and laughed a little, and (Y/n) grinned, giving a confused look. "I noticed it this morning. Growing up with just my Mom I spent lots of time in drugstores waiting for her to pick out mascara and nail polish." He smiled.
"Some would call that a pretty intimate detail." (Y/n) almost teased.
"I think it's pretty inconsequential." He shrugged, his own smile on his lips, looking down at his drink.
"What do you wanna know then?" She asked, leaning an elbow on the bar and her head in her hand.
"Hmm... I'll start with: What you want to drink?" He looked up at her and grinned.
"Just another beer is fine." (Y/n) nodded.
"Alright, a beer it is." He nodded and got Penny's attention. She swiftly delivered another drink to the pair. As she returned to Maverick at the other end of the bar, who had just noticed the pair in isolation, they shared a subtle knowing look. "Now, Sugar-" He turned to her as he pushed her drink to her across the bar.
"Yes, Rooster." She nodded.
"How'd you end up here? Managing Top Gun?" He asked, quite genuinely.
"Well," She paused for a moment to collect the story. "I had a job just out of highschool, that was in a dentist's office- I was a secretary, one day in walks some great big military type, begs me to find an emergency appointment for his kid, I get him a slot for within the hour. He gives me his email and tells me he owes me a favour and to contact me if I ever need anything. A couple years later I find myself without a job and I'm running out of options, about to be thrown out of my apartment, loads of debt, and I get in touch-" She explained herself.
"And he helps you out?" Bradley nodded.
"Yeah- Pretty much." She laughed.
"Who was it? Not Admiral Kazansky?" He asked.
"No, but you're close- Ron Kerner?" She spoke the name, quite sure he'd know it.
"Slider? His wingman?" Bradley was as pleased as anyone would have been the coincidence that had brought her here.
"The very same." (Y/n) grinned. "He said the best he could do for me was a job out in California, an old buddy of his was running a flight school, was needing some administration staff and he could put me in touch with him." She took a sip of her drink. "I didn't know any better, had no other options, and of course it turned out to be Kazansky and Top Gun. Slider had put in a good word for me and I got the job, moved out here and worked my way up. That was... Nearly seven years ago?" (Y/n) sighed and realised how much time she'd spent in California.
"Wow, it's- that's- Do you still keep in contact with Kerner at all or?" Bradley asked.
"Yeah- sure I do! I'm god-mother to his youngest kid, they have me over every thanksgiving, since I'm usually too busy to get home." She grinned, reflecting on the whole thing. She hadn't seen the Kerners for a while, swamped with work, but made a mental note to send a message and ask after her god-child.
"That's neat- A good story too." Bradley nodded.
"Yeah..." She paused and looked to him. "I guess you got into the job cos' of your Dad?"
"Uh- yeah, mainly." Bradley nodded and then did a double take. "Wait- seven years?"
"Yeah 2012 I started as an administrative assistant. 24 and still fresh faced- no idea what I was doing." (Y/n) nodded.
"You were here as I was going through Top Gun." He stated, suddenly his mind swirling with his previous stint at Top Gun, trying to mind a snapshot within a memory that might contain her.
"Uh- Yeah I must have been." She thought on it and nodded. "I'm not surprised we didn't cross paths, I was hidden away in a corner of the office doing paperwork till- well must have been not long after you graduated." She turned the bottle about in her hands, from label to branding to 'don't drink if pregnant, don't drive after consumption' warnings.
"Then this drink is overdue." She looked up at him with a small smile, almost shy and more mellow than her usual fire spitting sarcastic persona. "If I'd have met you back then I certainly would have bought you a drink." He nodded and peeled his eyes from and out into the room to give a faux sense of nonchalance.
"I appreciate it." She spoke with a nod.
(Y/n) let her eyes drift silkily down his profile. The droplets of water and sweat still on his skin and dewily in his eyelashes. The slight coarseness of his skin, the tones of it. The muscles that pulled his lips into the slightest nuance of a romantic smile. Any loose strands of damp hair which pressed to his forehead.
But she thought he was pretty sweet, and if he'd done what Jake had earlier in the day, she would have melted like butter for him.
She almost hated the atmosphere between them, building up into what it was. It was unprofessional, and she knew full well she shouldn't feel the way she did, and yet it wasn't so easy to deny.
"Do you think I should go back to being your boss now? Or stick around for a game of pool?" Bradley looked to the woman. "Cos I reckon I could win back the cost of my round." She smiled a mischievous smirk.
Rooster just gave a smile and shrug. He wanted to tell her he liked it when she wasn't his boss. He'd especially be lying if he didn't like the idea of what he could do if they were both people with less professional integrity.
Her smile grew and she held in place for a second, before she jumped off of her barstool and put her hand on his arm, or went to. Actually she held his wrist and he allowed himself to be lead to the pool table, acutely aware of the placement of her hand and savoured it before she let go and before anyone else seemed to notice their closeness for that one second.
By the end of the night (Y/n) had won fifty dollars total and had finally felt like she'd made some sort of ground in actually getting to know her team.
And for once she enjoyed herself.
And at the end of the night, when they all had to admit they'd drunk just enough to let their inhibitions go and enough to head home...
Standing in the parking lot of the Hard Deck, the sun hadn't fully set. There was a sweet honey glow in the sky.
She stood waiting for her cab, leaning on the wall by the door, a little tipsy smile on her face.
She thought she was alone, Penny and Mav weren't in sight but couldn't have been far away. She was sure she'd seen everyone make their own ways home, and she just closed her eyes and felt the buzz of the alcohol and the slightest tingle on her lips as she chewed them.
For a second she thought she was dreaming as she heard the twinkle of a piano.
It took her a good few seconds to realise that it was coming from inside, shifting between tunes she recognised, from Auld Lang Syne, to Paul Simon, Bad Moon Rising and Queen and then finally it settled into something.
She stepped into the doorway and observed quietly, but with a flutter in her chest and a heat in her cheeks. He had no idea she was there.
"Sugar-" She heard in a familiar, mumbled, singing voice. "Ah- Honey, honey-" She could hear the smile on Bradley's face though she couldn't see it from the angle she was at. "You are my candy girl, and you got me wanting you."
She stepped in, knowing the drink meant she wasn't thinking about her job and what she should or shouldn't do.
The creak of the floor boards as she did make him glance up for just a moment.
"Honey, Ah-sugar, sugar." He continued on, as she got closer and eventually came to stand by him, leaning on the piano with a shine in her eye.
His voice drifted off as his eyes drifted to her and his fingers were slowly distracted from playing.
He pulled them away from the keys as they were wordlessly magnetised to eachother, he reached out and placed his hand ever so gently on her waist, and she just stepped into the touch.
He had turned on the paino stool, now perpendicular to the keyboard and looking up at her.
His large hands, warm but worked and not soft, guided her hips forward, into him.
Soon she had straddled him, and they were entangled in a hot and sweet affair.
He tasted sweet, sweeter than she could have dreamed. Maybe that was just the element of risk and inherent risque nature of their actions as she pressed her fingertips into his jaw, and felt his on her waist, hips and over her own hands as he held them in place.
Rooster could have been manipulated like clay by her. Enough drink was in the two of them that it wasn't shameful, and the fuzz and electricity in their stomachs and throats and fingertips was amplified by a hundred.
That was until (Y/n) felt a lump rise in her throat, she felt her heart beat just that bit harder in her chest, and she just wanted it to be harder to breathe and harder to tear herself away and she wanted everything a young woman might want.
She felt a pang of momentary sobriety which brought all the morals and rules and fears flooding back into her mind.
Then she paused, her hands cupping his cheeks, and just pulled away.
She breathed, and looked the young pilot in the eye.
"I think-" She whispered as he looked up at her with sparkling puppydog eyes, desperate, hungry and achingly, deeply wanting. "Bradley- I think- I'd better go back to being-" She tried to speak the words though they felt quite torturous.
"My superior?" He finished for her.
She nodded.
"Yes." She half whispered, part breathed and nearly simply mouthed.
She let him move to softly place his hands over hers, pull them from his cheeks with a sigh.
He looked down as he held her hands.
He turned them slowly and nodded.
"Right." He turned a slight smile up to her.
She backed off, and headed to the door with a sweet smile shared between them.
"(Y/n)?" Rooster called out.
"Mhm?" She glanced back at him, trying not to let on how she wished she could turn that part of herself off that made her stop and go back to him.
"Sorry." He spoke, not having moved a muscle. She shook her head and mouthed a 'don't be' to him as she did. "No- I know I should have thought about it first, but I don't want this to- to affect anything. Not the mission, or anything else." He was incredibly genuine. "I'm sorry."
This neat link right here is a 10 page doc that explains in a very, very informal way the process of becoming a Naval Aviator for TOPGUN. This only follows one route- attending USNA. I don't really talk about enlisting or other avenues, as this was purely for the assumption that most of the aviators in TG attended USNA.
It includes links for further reading and the amount of time it takes to completely finish training. I hope y'all enjoy this, because it was genuinely fun doing this research. If there is anything that I've missed or need to add, please feel free to let me know!
I figured we could all use this knowledge for any fics or if you're a roleplayer in the fandom.
Hello darling! These are the requests and wips i have atm, some of the requests I've decided to make into headcannons because I think I'd do them better justice that way, and some of the requests are also quite similar- So I may end up combining them- I suppose we'll see!
I hope you'll enjoy them as I slowly do get through them, and don't mind waiting a little.
<3
Maverick
Mav and Daughter!reader who was a pilot like her father, but doesn't fly anymore, and has been called back for the mission [Angst]
Mav and Penny's Daughter who attempts to get her parents to get together and stay together this time
Bob
Bob x Reader where reader is the Mayor's secretary and they meet at an event designed to get the town and base to get along
Bob x Instructor!Reader wherein everyone is caught by surprise by who does and does not take a stab at her affections
Rooster
Rooster x Reader where reader is scared of flying and he helps her to conquer it [Angst]
Rooster x Wife!Reader where reader saves Bradley instead of Mav and Mav can't let him go back for her [Angst]
Rooster and Instructor!Reader wherein she saves him instead of Mav and he realises his feelings too late [Angst]
Part III of RECALL (Part IV on the way!)
Hangman
Hangman x reader, where they both can't bring themselves to tell eachother
Something fluffy and smutty for Hangman (this was very general I'll see how the inspiration strikes me 😉)
Phoenix
Phoenix x Reader where it's nearly too late for them to tell eachother how they feel [Angst]
Goose
(Prompt) 'Please, don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry' with Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw [Angst]
Goose x Reader where they meet at TOPGUN and Reader is a civilian instructor
Some Short pieces/Headcannons for Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw (R), Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace (P), Jake 'Hangman' Seresin (H) and Robert 'Bob' Floyd (B)
He's sick/got the flu (R)
First kiss with a Shy!Reader (R)
Reader is ill (All)
Reader is in an accident (All) [Angst]
Clumsy!Reader (R + H)
Australian! Reader on holiday (R + H) (I'll see what I can do for this one)
Sister!Reader who wants to be a pilot like her brother (R + H) [Angst]
Hiii! Can I please request a Bradly Bradshaw x fem reader fic where the female reader is reckless when it comes to flying, and she does something very reckless during practice, and Bradley confronts her in angst about it because it turns out that he cares for her. THANKSSS
So Close (Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw X Reader)
Word Count: 3223
TW: Near death experience, angst, swearing
AN: I hope this is alright! I enjoyed writing and I'm only sorry it took so long to get around to finishing off all my requests but I'm working on them now. Feedback is always welcome and I hope you enjoy! :)
REQUESTS (OPEN BUT CURRENTLY SLOW)
MASTERLIST
She'd always flown with the mantra of 'Don't think'. She didn't know where she heard it, but it made sense- from the first moment she had been up there alone it made sense. She tuned into her machine and wanted only to use it like it were an extension of herself- which meant she had to be quick, precise and hadn't the time to be anything like a good god-fearing woman.
She was reckless, in simple terms.
Today was no different. She was flying hard and fast; the exercise was just to hit a checkpoint in the shortest time possible whilst avoiding detection by their instructor.
By now the sun was high in the noon sky, they'd been at it all morning and (y/n) was frustrated.
"Mav- give us one more try- please." She asked over the radio as she flew beside Payback and Fanboy and Hangman. She was pissed, she just wanted to do this exercise and do it well. There was no room for error and all she felt like she was doing was making errors.
"Alright. Last time, if you can't do it this time, we're just gonna have to do it all again tomorrow." Captain Mitchell crackled back through the coms.
"Okay, I've got a plan-" She spoke once Maverick was out of range and preparing to try once again.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but alright, if it'll get this shit over with, I'll do whatever you say Sunshine-" Hangman spoke. He'd been more cooperative lately, but still hadn't enjoyed the morning of flying low and fast- but hanging back for his colleagues, who simply couldn't keep up whilst navigating the landscape. (Y/n) generally could, if higher up and in clear air, but the terrain slowed her.
She pitched up and started building altitude-
"What are you doing Sunny?" Payback asked, watching her, confused.
"I want to use the tailwinds above us- it's the only way we're all gonna reach the checkpoint in the time limit..." She spoke.
"And we're gonna get seen by Maverick-" Hangman replied with a slightly condescending tone.
"Not if we fly above him, use the sun as cover." (Y/n) replied, feeling now more confident. Hangman didn't actually bother to make a decent point unless he actually thought that the idea had something to it.
"There's a ceiling Sunshine, you know that." He spoke again. She was glad he was becoming slightly more of a team player.
"Since when did you care-" She laughed down the comms.
"I care about my career-" Hangman grumbled back.
"So do I, but I don't know how else we can make this work." (Y/n) bit back.
"Fine. We'll do it." Payback chimed in.
"Okay good. At least someone's got some balls." She grinned and looked across at Hangman as he caught up to her and ascended to fly beside her.
"Shut up." He put up a middle finger at her and she just laughed.
Soon enough they were way above the ceiling imposed upon them and well under their time limit on the sprint to the checkpoint.
Fanboy spotted Maverick below them and it seemed to be working. In fact it did work.
They were so close to reaching the checkpoint easily and hadn't been spotted, the fact that noon had swung around had been a good thing, and she'd been right, the sun was just the perfect cover when they were so much higher up than their opponent.
They were so close when she just pushed a little harder, just wanted to do a little better. Just wanted to see if she could gain a few more seconds, a few more knots. She didn't think anything of it.
"Sunny, we haven't gotta push it-" Payback spoke. "We're already way ahead of where we need to be."
"Yeah- sure thing." She spoke dismissively and continued to push on.
Suddenly there was an awful splutter and Sunny's jet wrenched violently into a downward roll, seemingly out of nowhere. Narrowly the jet avoided hitting one of the other two in it's sudden movement, but quickly the situation had gone bad.
"Fuck!" She exclaimed, the jolt of the movement throwing her hands from the controls.
"Sunny!" She heard in her ear, and wasn't sure who it was but she knew her aircraft wasn't responding to anything she did.
In front of her, a cockpit lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree with flashing warning lights, and a dizzying view of the ground above her and approaching quickly as the sky fell out from underneath her.
"What the fuck is going on? What the fuck just happened?!" She shouted, not really to anyone, but she got a reply anyway.
"Rudder hardover, Sunny-" That seemed to be Fanboy's voice. That wasn't good, but at least she knew what was doing this. It shouldn't, she hadn't fucking touched the rudder pedals, not immediately before it'd happened at least.
"What side?" She shouted down her comms, desperately attempting to recover. Her voice was panicked, it was not an emotion she was used to.
"Uhh... Left!' Was what was given back to her and as she heard it she didn't know what to do; other than stamp as hard as she could on the left rudder pedal, incase that did anything at all. It didn't.
She did it over and over, trying to pull up at the same time but it didn't budge. The rudder pedal did nothing.
There wasn't much she could do.
"Fuck." Was all she spoke down the comms. In a quick and desperate whisper, like she'd not even meant yo say anything at all.
For a moment she stopped. She'd given up.
'This is it Sunshine.' She thought to herself. She heard her colleagues telling her to bail out but she could see her airspeed was way above the normal cruising speed of about 570kn, which was a bad enough speed to eject from. They'd been in a race essentially, they were going faster than that anyway and now she was approaching the ground even faster. That, with being in a roll too, her chances after ejection were fucking slim. Slim enough that she didn't want to do it.
'Sunshine, you've done plenty. Yeah, you're young but hey- it ain't all bad. Not leaving anyone behind? No kid without a Mom, no greiving widower- And you've enjoyed it all, huh?' Thoughts flashed through her mind for just a second and her whole body relaxed for just a fraction of a hair of a moment. She tuned out the shouting on the comms, from Maverick, Hangman, all of them who were watching her dive toward the desert floor.
She heard an alarm of 'Terrain, pull up' and shut her eyes for just a second, squeezed them shut.
Then a surge of adrenaline forced her to give the pedal one last crack- with all her force she smashed her heel into the metal.
And it released.
For a moment she didn't believe it; but had to, and finally managed to pull the craft out of the roll. First things first she pitched up, and then slowed once she was on the flat again.
She just laughed and finally breathed as her colleagues sat back in their seats and were relieved not to have witnessed her smash into the California sand.
"Sunshine, I think it's time we get you safely on the ground." Maverick spoke, filled with relief.
"Yeah- I don't think I trust my old girl quite as much as I did a few minutes ago." Sunny laughed and nodded. The shock of it kept her going until they landed.
Back on the ground, she was buzzing the adrenaline and exhausted all at once. She climbed from the wounded jet and leant on it, forehead pressed to the hot fuselage and her flight helmet hanging in hand.
She put a palm to the metal and gave the machine a pat before turning and just sitting on the tarmac of the taxi way where the jets were lined up.
She sat there in a bundle, her head craned back to the sky, eyes closed as her fingers trailed down her face.
She'd done plenty in her time, she was a damn good pilot, she'd come close to danger lots of times and wasn't unfamiliar with the derring do that came with her role as a top Navy pilot, but not that close.
"Hey- Sunny." She looked up to see Maverick coming toward her.
"Capitain-" She nodded and squinted up at him.
"You alright?" He asked, crouching down to her, a smile on his face.
"Yeah, sir. I'm all good." She nodded and smiled back. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.
"Good. That was a good recovery- I'm glad you're alright." Her Capitain nodded.
"I don't know what happened, digital fly by wire system, it shouldn't be able to do that." She spoke, just sorta dazed and pumped up with adrenaline still. Her heart was still beating like drum.
"Well you're on the ground now- she'll get looked at, get fixed up." He looked up at the jet, and she twisted to do the same. She sort of blinked and scrunched her nose and eyebrows into a wince.
"Hey-" Maverick looked at her and she turned back to him. "Are you dizzy? Feeling sick?" He asked, his tone serious now as he looked her over. Her hands were shaking now, but she hadn't noticed.
A shiver ran through her as she tried to think to answer.
"Uh-" She hesitated for a second, not wanting to admit it, or unable to recognize it.
"I'll take that as a yes." He nodded and spoke gently.
"No- I-" She attempted to protest but realized it was futile as Maverick stood.
"Come on, you've gotta get checked out." He put out a hand, which she took and he pulled her up.
Her legs suddenly felt sorta weird underneath her, weak and a muscle in her thigh was twitching disconcertingly.
"Alright?" Mav chuckled as she seemed sorta wobbly as she stood and he grabbed her arm to keep her steady.
"Yeah- Thanks." She laughed.
"Good. Come on." He patted her on the back, but not at hard he usually would, he did genuinely think she would topple over if he weren't careful. He knew full well how fragile people can get coming down from an andrenaline high, he was just surprised she hadn't launched into a panic attack, he'd seen that happen plenty of times after shit like that too.
She allowed Mav to walk her to the medical office without any more protest. He walked close to her, making sure the kid didn't get all out of shape and he was never gonna leave her on her own to walk there, that would be stupid.
"Fuck-" She spoke as they walked. "Am I gonna get in a load of shit for this?" She asked.
"What? For breaking the ceiling?" He asked and she nodded. "Yeah, probably." He laughed.
"Damn." Sunny sighed and shook her head. That was gonna be a pain in the ass.
"Worry about that later." Mav told her as they reached the door of the building. "Go get an icepack from the school nurse for the bruised ego and then we can congratulate you for not crashing." He grinned.
She nodded and thanked him before heading inside.
She got checked over, forced to sit for at least 45 minutes, drinking water and answering all the questions that the staff asked her. Once the adrenaline rush and after effects had worn off, the shaking hands and lightheadedness, fast heart beat, she was signed off as all clear.
She walked out, her flight suit unzipped to show a white t-shirt and give her some breathing room, and paused for a moment.
She took one deep breath and from then on, in her mind, what was done, was done. That was dealt with.
That was how she coped. If she didn't, she'd never get in a jet again, so she had to ignore it all. She had to ignore every screaming human part of her that told her to step off of the tarmac and never look back, that told her to fear the familiar sound of the ignition and starting of a jet, that told her not to push for the limit and hold.
If she listened to those feelings, she'd never be a pilot at all. She'd never have made it this far and she'd never be such a good pilot as she was either.
"What the fuck." She heard, in a familiar voice, before she turned to the speaker and was promptly pinned back against the wall before she could do anything to avoid it.
The words had come with a ferocity that was uncommon of the voice they were spoken with- one which was very familiar and usually welcome. She let out a startled mix of a gasp and a squeal as she hit the wall.
Sunny squirmed and scowled, confused as her friend, Bradley, held both of her shoulders tightly pressed to the wall. He was bigger than her, and more muscular, she couldn't just worm away.
"Rooster!" She half shouted, not sure at all what was happening.
"What the fuck was that?" He asked, loudly, with wide eyes and a his brow knitted. His jaw was tense and he held such a grip on her, leaning some of his weight into the hold.
"What?" She asked, not scared, just confused.
"I- We- were all listening to you in the rec room." He spoke. "You pushed it too far."
"It was a system failure-" She replied, angry now.
"You pushed it too far!" Bradshaw cut her off and yelled, his voice sorta hoarse now. "You! You did!"
She gave him a hard shove.
"Get off!" He let go pretty quickly and stepped back with the force of her pushing him away. "And get off my back!" She scowled at him and stayed with her back up against the wall, but stood as tall as she could, trying to defend herself.
"No!" He yelled back, his hands tensed into fists by his side. "Payback warned you! He told you not to push it when you didn't have to and you did it anyway!"
"What's your problem!? What are you accusing me of!?" She couldn't understand why he was so rilled up by it.
"Of being fucking reckless!" He spat back in what had quickly become the most heated exchange the pair had ever had.
They never argued, never. They certainly never fought like this.
"You pushed it too far! You didn't have to! And what that triggered a fault, you only survived because you'd already broke the one fucking rule! You should be dead! If you'd been a thousand feet lower you'd be fucking dead!"
"And what's it to you!?" Sunny
Rooster just sorta looked at her for a moment, with utter disbelief.
Then he stepped back and ran a hand through his hair.
Sunshine just watched, still confused, and slightly concerned but mostly still angry.
He let out a breath and stood still, hand on the back of his neck, the other rested on his hip.
He just looked at the ground for a moment and neither of them moved. The silence was piercing, just the hum of the generator for the medical office nearby and the more distant sound of vehicles going about their business on the taxi ways.
All of a sudden, he let out a roar of a yell and lunged forward, kicking the wall with all his force and then stepping back in a wandering turn.
"Fucks sake Sunny!" He yelled, shaking his head, turned from her. "Fucks sake..." He spoke quiter and finally turned back to her. She'd never, ever seen him this angry.
He looked at her, breathed and sighed before stepping back to her. His expression was softer now, thoughtful and slightly sad.
Much more gently now he put his hands on her shoulders.
He slowed his breathing and pressed his forehead to her shoulder, his hand shifted from that shoulder down to hold tight onto her arm; and the other glided upward. His fingertips trailed delicately up her neck and up to her face.
His fingers hooked firmly just behind her jaw and his thumb glided back and forth across her cheek.
Her lips were parted just slightly, her breath hitched. She was surprised, apprehensive but not nervous, and she couldn't reject the action.
"I-" He spoke, breathily, before pausing. Stopping himself.
Instead he pulled gently at her tshirt, exposing some skin, and pressed a kiss to her collarbone.
A shiver ran through her.
He turned his head, so it rested almost on her shoulder and he faced her neck. He spoke into her skin and breathed into her.
"You're fucking insane-" He pressed a nip of a kiss to her neck before pulling away just a little. "And you don't understand that I can't lose you." His voice was, frustrated, desperate, hushed.
"I want you forever. Don't cut it short. Please, (Y/n)." He spoke, and swallowed hard. His own breath was shaking now.
He pulled away, took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. His hand on her face fell down a little and sat in the crook of her neck.
"I'm in love with you. I'm so in love with you." He spoke with absolute clarity, though hushed. His eyes were big, glossy, his expression honest and firm.
"Bradley..." She whispered his name and softened.
She lifted her hands to his face and held it softly, her own expression became slightly sad, sympathetic and sorry.
She pulled him in slightly and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then another to his lips. It was just soft but his heart nearly stopped.
Then she pulled away, looked in his eyes for half a second and then slipped her arms around his neck and held him.
"I'm sorry." She mumbled. "I never meant to-"
"No." He cut her off. "I know." He pulled back and looked at her again. He swallowed and just took in how pretty she was, and how he felt about her.
"I just, love you. And I was so close to losing you." He spoke. "You're amazing, you're such a good pilot... You're my best friend. I can't lose you for no reason; just because you were reckless."
She breathed as he spoke, deep but faltering breaths.
"I never knew you felt that way." She whispered to him, pulling him back into her arms. "I feel the same about you. I never wanna leave you. Not like that. Not ever." She spoke as he held her tight.
They both knew how easy it was to get psyched out up there when there's people on the ground you wanna come home to, how easily you could lose it and become your own worst enemy, get in your own head.
'Don't think' was a good rule.
But it was safe to say, that from then on, if anything like that happened again, there was never a single moment or second where she could have given up. She didn't need adrenaline and instinct to fuel her to fight. Not when she had someone like him on her mind.
RECALL | Pt.2 (Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader)
Word Count: 3033
TW: fighting, swearing, a touch of angst
AN: So, it's finally here! I hope you enjoy it and aren't too mad that it's taken so long! I'm on track for two more parts now I've decided what I'm doing with this!
Enjoy! (As always feed back is invaluable and I love hearing what you think of what I write so please do let me know!)
PART ONE -> PART THREE
REQUESTS (OPEN)
MASTERLIST
Sitting at the back of the Top Gun sessions was fascinating. (Y/n) loved it.
She had always loved observing the adrenaline and testosterone fueled bouts between the pilots, how some of them grew out of it and some of them thrived on it. She liked watching them learn to support eachother, the cocky excuses and reasoning they'd give for their stupid mistakes, even the frustration when things didn't go right.
And today- nothing was going right.
Nobody was even remotely able to execute the mission trial. Not one.
It was becoming what seemed an impossible task.
(Y/n) leant back in her chair, twisting her pen between her fingers and feeling the buttery leather of her notebook cover under her fingertips as she balanced it open in the other hand.
She looked down at her notes and read them, bringing the pen to her lips and leaving it there before crossing her legs one over the other. She sighed.
This had been a good idea in theory. All these top pilots back here, but what makes the best of the best? Fucking assholes make the best of the best.
This made her job difficult. But she had expected it.
She scanned over her notes for a second, tuning out the conversation in the room.
'Seresin - Cocky, uncooperative, fast, rightfully confident but inconsiderate, unreliable for his classmates, very reliable for his superiors, provocative, consistent.
Floyd - Intelligent, unassertive, keen observation skills, overtly polite, quick witted, sharp, sticks to rules to a T, blends in, needs to stick up for himself more but probably needs more support from peers to achieve the confidence required.
Bradshaw - Secure, talented, highly motivated and passionate, easily distracted and emotionally driven at times-'
She looked up at the pilot, and fought the childish urge to write 'cute' alongside all of her other professional crap.
She quickly pushed that from her mind and thought back to what she knew about Bradshaw.
He had a generally clean record, nothing about him stood out as a troublemaker, even days after he seemed the perfect student, aside from his clear distain for his instructor, he listened to his peers, encouraged them, he was largely attentive to feedback- though he denied that cautious flying was becoming a clear flaw- and he was well motivated to further himself and the mission.
And his past- she'd looked into it- she had to, it was her job and if one of her pilots needed support, she had to provide it. And to provide the right kind, she had to know.
He was very young when his father died, a teenager when his mother died, his father and Maverick flew together- a picture began to emerge- resentment for his father's death? Maybe, but more importantly, he'd applied to the academy at 18. That application hadn't got through. She'd had to do more digging than she would have liked to to find out why, but she had. They'd been pulled by Maverick. That was interesting to her.
That was more likely where the resentment stemmed from. There were photographs of them at memorial services together, Top Gun reunions- all the way up until he should have been the academy.
She had stopped listening for a while as she thought, but now shifted in her chair and sighed quietly as she looked up, just in time to see chaos unfold before her.
She stood, just having caught the last few words exchanged between Hangman and Rooster before the latter had lunged for the former.
Maverick had a sort of panic in his eye, one that she guessed wasn't like him- and Hangman was deeply nonchalant. Meanwhile, Rooster was being held back by his peers, who were this close to being unable to contain the man now brimming with untapped aggression and twitching.
"He's not cut out for this mission. You know it. You know I'm right." Hangman spoke as he crossed the room and left, the Captain dismissing the group.
Slowly the room cooled, as (Y/n) mulled over how to deal with what was becoming a rapidly escalating situation amongst the class.
She stood out at the edge of the tarmac, just under the canopy of the hangar. She looked out as the students walked across to the main building. How the days passed this quick, she didn't know, yellow sun already beating down orange and heat haze dissipating from the runway slowly. This project had so much pressure on it, she knew well- she'd always been in close correspondence with Admiral Kazansky. TOP GUN was like his child, he needed to know everything about each of his pilots, if they, or an instructor, especially one he had recommended for the job, failed, he took it as a personal slight, his own failure. Through her, emails upon emails, secure fax and couriered files that got from her desk to his in less than an hour, he kept tabs.
When he was healthier and still worked from the base, she had weekly meetings with him to run down all the details of the TOP GUN class of the moment.
But this one was new, it meant even more. TOP GUN was more than just a fighter training school with these pilots, this class was procured for a specific and time sensitive mission. They were being trained for something that no other class was ever needed for, that might be impossible. And she had to keep it on track. She had to put away distractions, keep that pressure on all of these pilots, the staff too- though she knew that they all knew as well as she did.
Never before had it felt more poignant, the role she played in all this.
"Captain-" she spoke, turning back into the room where Maverick sat, staring up at the mission details on the screen.
He looked to her. He knew what she was going to say.
"Whatever is between you and Lieutenant Bradshaw, is bad enough, without it spilling over to the rest of the team and being used as a competitive foothold. That's how people get hurt, killed." She spoke quietly. He knew that already, she knew he knew but it was her job to say these things out loud.
"I'd suggest you get these aviators working as a team, remind them that this isn't like the first time they were here. There won't be any winners. I'm not handing out prizes, especially not to families if they don't make it back because they couldn't get it together in time to fly this mission successfully." She was frustrated, and worried, flipping her pen in her hand.
"I know, Ma'am." Captain Mitchell nodded solemnly, looking back to the screen, bringing his clasped hands to his chin, and leaning, hunched, on them.
"I know you do, Captain." She sighed and stood for a few more moments before retreating back across the tarmac.
She headed to the locker room, and walked in. Steam was emerging already from the showers at the back of the room as she leant back on the tiled wall, pulling her folder of files into her chest. On one side she was flanked by a bank of lockers, and the other was the gap in the partition that lead back to the showers. In front of her, the slatted benches which bags and people were perched on. It was quiet, light chatter rumbled around the room, subtle echoes of these voices bounced off of the tiles, but it wasn't the usual boisterousness that this room was used to.
She just sort of stood there, and most of the pilots, who were all used to communal setting, just went about their prep to head home for the evening, if a little on edge, waiting for someone to be pulled up by her.
Even Lt. Seresin was pretty quiet. He kept his demeanor of a cocky and arrogant ass, but he wasn't stupid enough to push it even further than he already had.
"Evenin' Sugar." He spoke as he passed by her, one of the few comfortable enough to use her callsign. His accent seemed to suit the epithet more than most, but it might have just been his cocksure attitude. He didn't look back as he stood by his locker, and she just nodded to him as he passed.
This was the only interaction she had with any of them as she stood there. She just wanted to be amongst them, see if there was any reaction to what had happened, or none. She had little to say as she simply observed.
Seresin got plenty of dirty looks, rolling eyes and dismissive looks, whilst Bradshaw was nowhere to be seen. His things were stacked neatly by his locker.
"Goodnight Ma'am" Lt. Trace spoke with a bright smile, looking back as she followed Floyd and Garcia out the door.
"Goodnight." (Y/n) nodded back, they were the last to leave. Last but one.
She could hear the shower still running in the room behind her. She could feel the steam still in the air.
She was always dealing with the wake and aftermath of things, along side the preparations. It could be satisfying, and frustrating and disheartening; all in equal measure.
She slowly moved around the corner, lingered on the threshold of the partition wall.
"Lieutenant?" She spoke, softly, into the room.
She heard a sigh, the creak of the water spigot being turned off.
She watched as a towel slipped off of the top of the wall of the cubicle and moments later, the young, rather exposed, pilot, emerge.
"Ma'am?" He jilted his head slightly as he answered. He seemed apprehensive, slightly tense, his eyes flickered as they fixed on a point.
"Are you alright?" (Y/n) continued, undeterred by his state.
He paused, and she waited for a reply, leaning once again back against the wall, her hands clasped tightly on the folders, behind her back.
"Lieutenant-" She began, but was cut off.
"Yes." He spoke quickly, firmly. "Yes, Ma'am."
She couldn't help but have her heart be tugged at by the sight of him, a few strands of hair dripping water down his face, which was stern and cold in it's expression. What Hangman had said had hit a nerve, exactly like he'd meant it to, but she didn't like that. She wasn't going to pull him up on what he'd said, because he knew not to push it so far- but the reaction he'd gotten from his rival probably was even more visceral than he'd expected. He wanted to rile him up, and to be honest, Bradshaw needed riled up if he was going to play any part in this mission going well. If he did it again, then she'd have to tell him to knock it off, but she knew how these guys worked, Seresin was playing along and testing the waters of how far he could go- how he could push everyone's buttons best.
But still, she had to know that Bradley was okay, or if all this really was affecting him enough to have to recommend he be pulled out of RECALL.
She understood what had been said, it wasn't kind, and clearly he was still mulling on some part of it.
Water sat on the man's tanned skin, ran over his muscular body. Any usual moment and she'd be distracted by it, but she was a professional and instead distracted by the emotive elements of her duties.
"I won't force you to tell me anything. But being evasive about it doesn't help either of us." She spoke, her eyebrows forming a soft expression on her face and her lips turning down just a touch.
"What he said, was out of line, Ma'am." Bradshaw spoke.
"I agree." She concured, nodded and breathed in deeply.
"I've worked with him before. I know he likes to push people's buttons, I shouldn't have let it get to me, Ma'am. I won't repeat the mistake, Ma'am." He spoke, in his usual stern and serious tone for superiors. She wished he wouldn't. It was another way of avoiding her and what she inevitably would force him to face.
"I'm sure you won't. But that's not what I want to talk about. I probably would have tried to knock his head off too, if he'd said the kind of things he did to you, to me." She shifted her weight to her other leg, crossed her ankles over eachother and tilted her head. "I know you'd rather not, but I urge you to let me know what's going on. Because whatever's pent up between you and Capitain Mitchell, will continue to be used by your peers to better you and that's a disservice to yourself and your skill, Lieutenant." She spoke smoothly, with utter calm. She matched his evasive formality with her bluntness. She was determined to get something out of him that she might gauge him from.
"My father was a good man, Ma'am." He spoke, still stern. "He trusted Maverick." He continued, building a tone of frustration. "You know how that ended, and considering, do you really think he should have?" He twitched slightly as he asked that, his voice maybe slightly louder than it should have been. He paused before he remembered his formality considering who he was talking to. "Ma'am."
"That's not why you don't speak." She looked at him, his solid stare, over her head. He was good at being a military man, it didn't seem he was very used to being much else.
"He's selfish, reckless and dangerous." Bradshaw reaffirmed his stance.
"He held you back." She replied quickly.
"He held me back." He repeated with a nod and finally looked her in the eye. He spoke that back to her with an unwavering inference that that was exactly the point. Good. She'd pushed him to the right spot. His tone was angry now, for sure.
"You're here anyway." She nodded, after a short pause.
"Despite him." Bradshaw bit back.
"Then you won." A small smile turned at the corner of her lips. He didn't seem to entirely appreciate the sentiment of what she was telling him.
"I lost four years." He argued, trying to justify himself. Now his chest was heaving up and down, his jaw tense and he was otherwise stock still.
"And still you're one of the top twelve pilots in the Navy. Handpicked." She nodded again.
"Yeah. And I'll do whatever I'm asked. That's my job. Mitchell doesn't matter." He calmed himself, tried to reassume the evasive stance he'd started with before she had provoked him into something more emotive than that.
"Yes he does." She replied quickly as he revoked the eye contact he had earlier initiated.
"Hangman is just a jerk, he's always been that way. It won't happen again. You can take that as a promise, Ma'am." He seemed to have entirely returned to his battle stations behind the rather large brick wall he'd been building.
"Don't avoid my questions." She suddenly spoke with alarming ferocity, startling him. He looked back to her, his body tensed in a different, less disciplined way. "And don't look at me like you aren't."
"I-" Bradshaw tried to make it right but she cut in.
"I know. I said I won't force you to tell. But I suggest you decide if you're angry or not. Stop letting people fuck with you." (Y/n) spoke with a sudden seriousness.
"You make it sound like I'm in denial." He said quietly but seriously.
"Are you angry?" She asked, after a beat, cocking an eyebrow.
"With Maverick? Yes, Ma'am." He just looked at her for a moment before replying.
"Maybe you should be." She replied, a little cocky.
"You're the one fucking with me." He spoke, displeased, his tone returning to anger for just a moment.
"Yeah." She once again replied quickly and then paused and shook her head. "It's not for fun. You just gotta understand, that- Well that this ain't gonna work if you're walking around with a chip on your shoulder. I'm not forcing you to make it up with him, or ignore Seresin; Hell- tell him he's got one less ball than Hitler and a goat for a mother for all I care. Just, don't let it get under your skin. If that's the way you wanna play it, it'll all be over soon enough and you won't have to deal with either of them; or me, again." She calmed and returned to her smooth and knowing tones, drifted from her authoritative, disciplinarian ones.
He looked back to his spot on the wall, straightened up and spoke.
"It's not you I don't like dealing with."
She was slightly taken aback by that comment, wasn't entirely sure what he meant by it. He wasn't that kind of pilot. Or if he were, he was good at keeping that on the down low.
It was her turn to ignore a comment.
"You understand what I mean? Don't you? About how this whole situation makes it easy for competition to worm out all your vulnerable spots?" She spoke, now much softer, and with a sigh. She tilted her head and stepped forward a little, her expression soft and she chewed her lip, looking for some reaction on his face. She often thought she cared too much about these guys, but it was her job.
"Yes Ma'am." He spoke softly, the words were his normal good Lieutenant role, but the way he said them was different. She hoped it meant she might have broken through a little.
"I don't wanna see this fail." She spoke as she stepped back toward the door. She turned from him and began to walk away. She stopped, breathed in deeply and looked back, half turned. He was relaxed for a second, he'd pulled his hand through his wet hair and still the water was dripping down him and dissapating steam backgrounded the image. He breathed deeply, like he'd been so tense he'd not been breathing fully. His eyes were closed until she spoke again. She spoke one last line before retreating from the room for good.
hii, im just wondering if part 2 of recall is coming any time soon, im sooo obsessed w it (& u !!)
Hi!
Yes, it took me ages to finally decide where to go with it! But I'm working on it as we speak and it should be out tonight. I have at least one more part planned out and I'll probably do another one after that so I'm glad you're enjoying it!
Lost and Found (Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x Reader)
Word Count: 1746
TW: Death, grief, swearing
AN: Okay, so this was just a quick indulgent piece I had laying about. I've finally figured out where to take RECALL so part II of that should be out tonight? And I'm slowly getting through the requests, I just wanna get them right and I've been distracted with other stuff recently but I hope you enjoy!
Feedback is invaluable and very welcome so please feel free to let me know what you thought of any of my posts <3
REQUESTS (OPEN)
MASTERLIST
She froze up. She'd never felt the phrase 'like a deer in headlights' so viscerally before.
She looked, scared. Her stance like she was halfways through stepping away and making her escape, her eyes wide and lips turned into more of a grimace than a frown.
The only movement in her, was her jaw, as she tensed it and ground her teeth. She had nothing to say, but no means of getting out of this.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Pete asked, trying to sound angry but it was plain to see he was just hurt as he stood there, unable to look her in the eye.
She didn't mind that, she thought she was going to cry, and whilst he couldn't see the sickly lump forming in her throat, he'd be able to see the tears welling up in her eyes.
"Pete-" She whimpered, the sound barely escaping her lips before she choked up and could continue. She couldn't see him like this.
Her heart was broken, and she didn't know what to do about it.
"You blame me? Don't you?" He spoke more than asked, with every muscle in him tensed and his eyes fixated on the sidewalk at her feet.
She was horrified. She didn't blame him. She couldn't have- she never wanted him to think it either.
She'd not seen him since Goose had died.
Her, Goose and Maverick had known eachother for years. She'd known Pete first, as teenagers, met in highschool and bonded over both being military brats. Her father was till serving of course, unlike his.
When he went into the academy, she visited him on her breaks from college, and then she'd known Goose too.
Soon Goose met Carole, and then three became four, and eventually four became five. It didn't matter that everyone assumed she and Pete were dating, it wasn't true but she could see how it looked when they were all together. It was the natural division of things.
They were all, a little family. She and Pete had been part of the wedding party when Nick and Carole married, she was Bradley's godmother.
They were so excited when the boys had gotten sent to Top Gun.
And this wasn't supposed to be how the story ended.
She had been walking back from the beach, to the motel where she was staying for this particular visit, her towel over her arm, when the receptionist stopped her.
"Miss- Someone's been trying to call you for the past hour?" The young girl had told her and pushed a receiver into her hands.
"Hello, (Y/n) (L/n). Speaking?" She spoke nervously into the phone, bringing it to her ear as she leant on the counter so as not to pull the wire so far.
"Goose is dead." She heard a monotone voice on the other end, crackling through the old phone system. She recognised the voice, though it's tone was uncharacteristic and unusual.
She felt her heart drop.
"W-what?" She questioned, stumbling quietly on her words, letting her towel fall from her arm as she put her other hand on the receiver, pressing it to her ear to make sure she heard it right.
"I'm sorry." She heard, and then knew she heard right. She could say nothing as the line buzzed with static through the silence for a moment. "I'm sorry." Was repeated, the voice cracking and fading as it spoke. Pete repeated the phrase down the phone over and over.
Gently, (y/n) whispered down the phone.
"Pete..." Was all she could think to say, her voice almost wispy then, far away and she wasn't sure she was breathing.
A few more moments of silence ensued, as the pair both just listened to eachother down the phone, there was a hollow comfort in hearing the other's shaky breath down the line, but it didn't last long.
(Y/n) let the phone drift from her face, it just lay in her hands which rested on the counter, one in the other in front of her, whilst she just stared out into the small motel office. She slowly lifted her hand, but even that seemed a Herculean effort considering the shake in it and how faint she suddenly felt.
She hung the receiver back on it's hook and breathed out.
"Bad news?" The receptionist asked, a little meekly.
(Y/n) took a moment to look at her but eventually turned her head, and nodded slowly and absently.
"I think I'll be staying a few extra days." She spoke quietly before turning around and going back to her room in a daze.
She'd locked herself in and didn't come out till about 4am, when light began seeping in through the gap under the door and between the curtians.
She didn't know what to do. She'd gone outside and sat on the curb for a while before going back in. By then someone had gotten a message to her to say what happened.
At a reasonable hour of the morning she managed to drag herself up and put on some clean clothes.
She walked the couple of miles to where Carole and Bradley were staying whilst they were here. She stopped on the way and bought some sweet treats from some convenience store she passed.
She walked slowly, and mulled everything over.
She'd been thinking all night. She'd cried a lot. But she didn't know what to feel.
She'd grown up around people who did this every day, she'd known people who'd lost people. But she never had. Not like this either.
She knocked on the door to the little apartment and eventually Carole opened it.
(Y/n) just put her arms around the woman. She mumbled how sorry she was into her shoulder and they just stood there, rocking eachother back and forth.
(Y/n) stayed with them, supported her friend, for the next few days. She refused, though Carole tried to convince her to, to visit Pete in the hospital.
But she was too scared, to unsure of herself. She didn't know what to say to him. Facing him was aknowledging what had happened and she didn't want to.
And now they were here, he'd been cleared of any wrongdoing, Carole had taken Bradley home, seen Pete and collected all of her husband's things.
Finally she'd gone down to the base.
"I don't need you to blame me. I blame myself enough without you-" The young pilot continued on, gradually louder and louder.
"Pete- No." She spoke, putting her hands to her face like a scared child.
He stopped mid sentence and looked at her, saw how scared she was by his raising his voice. He'd never done that before. But he'd never lost Goose before.
"I don't." She sighed and told him, pulling her hands from her face and knitting her fingers anxiously together, holding them in close to her body. "I just- don't know what to say to you." She shivered in the sunshine as she spoke quietly. "I've known you all these years and I've never felt that. But I've been terrified of seeing you because I don't know what to say. And I'm sorry."
Pete just looked at her, and she couldn't meet his eye.
"I don't know what to say." She spoke again, choking on her words.
"You're right- we've known eachother all these years, and now is the time you don't talk. After everything? Cos' maybe I didn't need you to say anything! Maybe I just needed you to be there!" He started off speaking quietly and quickly it crescendoed into an awful, hurting shout.
His nostrils flared and his eyes were twinkling now with tears.
Once again, silence. She finally pulled her eyes to meet his, but couldn't hold it. She looked away and held steadfast.
"I don't want it to happen to you." She spoke, very quietly.
"What?" He asked, his tone still angry and yet this was softer than what had come before.
"Seeing you- Talking about what's happened. It's not just admitting that Goose is gone, it's admitting that, any day, any moment, I could get a call saying the same thing happened to you." She choked out the words. "I don't want to lose you too, Pete."
He lauched foward and wrapped his arms tightly around her, she buried her head in his neck and both of them let tears fall.
"That'd be the worst thing. To lose you would kill me Pete. It'd be..." She sobbed as she wrapped her own arms around him. "I'm sorry. I know you needed me. I know you did. But I had to be selfish because losing you, even if it were only in my head, and losing Goose all at once was going to kill me. And nothing is ever going to be the same again without him. Nothing." Pete could only nod. He had no words to speak because he felt the same way. Without her in the aftermath, was like he'd lost her too. It was a parallel experience that had lead to this moment of grieving catharsis.
Breifly they had lost eachother, but now they had stumbled through the darkness and found eachother again.
Their little family was broken, and would remain so, for many years, they expected. They'd learn to live without Goose, even if they didn't want to, and they'd learn how to talk to Bradley about his Dad and answer his questions. Carole would learn that life hadn't much changed, without Goose- not everyday life. Just there was no X marked on the calendar, no giddy anticipation for the day when her husband would come home. It was just like he was permanently at work. Sometimes she would catch herself thinking of having to do something to prepare for him to come home, reset his alarm clock on his bedside table, stock the refrigerator in the garage with the sodas only he drank, before realising she didn't need to. Sometimes she did it anyway, just to make herself feel better- or sometimes to justify to herself why she felt like she was going insane.
The thing was, as (Y/n) and Pete stood on the sidewalk outside of the base, the evening sunshine shining down on them, they knew all that was to come. All the really hard parts were on their way. But it didn't matter in that moment, because suddenly it felt like they might just about manage to do it. They might manage to keep their little family nearly whole.
But, God, did they know they'd have to do it together.
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